Page 8 of The Silence Lies

Still, I can’t help but smile at his encouragement. I’m taken aback by his weird choice of words and support. Luca is right, though. I do whatever the fuck I want—within reason. I know I’ll be able to convince Sera somehow. It’s just going to take a hot minute for me to wear her down.

“Thanks, Luca. So, can we count on you to help us?”

His breath rushes out against the speaker, making a loud breezy sound. “I can’t promise shit with Ferrante or Rocco, but since it’s revenge Serafina is after…” there’s a long, hesitant pause. “I’m in.”

I lean back against the wall of the corridor I’ve found myself in, that leads to the back of Serafina’s club. Relief washes over me, and the gradual confidence of us rebuilding La Cosa Nostra begins to take shape.

“I don’t need to remind you about telling the Elders,” I warn.

“Not if I want to keep my head.”

Pretty soon after, we hang up, and I make my way back to Sera with one thing on my mind. She’s not going to like it, but we both need this. We both need to do this for the sake of our sanity.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Sera hisses from the backseat of the SUV.

Luckily, everyone who attended today had the same idea. Black limousines and SUVs line the drive to the cemetery, guards block the majority of our view. With the sunshine, it makes it even more difficult to see who is actually in any of these vehicles or out at the grave.

“We’ll wait until it’s over, then pay our respects.” Sera’s eyes drift outside the window, to where the LaRosa family are gathered around Enzo’s coffin. What happened in her office earlier hasn’t escaped me. I know I was only playing with her, trying to lighten the mood, but she took it to another level and I can’t deny how fucking hot it was.

Luca Fontana’s words repeat in the back of my mind as we all sit in silence. I knew how Enzo felt about Sera. He adored her, more than a best friend should, but he never overstepped.

It was the same for me. I was instantly drawn to her all those years ago. But unlike my cousin, I remained on the periphery. While Enzo was the protective friend, keeping in his boundary, I was watching from the sidelines wondering if he would make a move, or if I would bulldoze that. I’m not one to ruin relationships, though. Whether they saw it or not, I knew I didn’t have a shot with Serafina Bianchi. That didn’t stop me pining for her for years. With chocolate brown locks and hazel eyes, an attitude to boot; she’s gorgeously powerful, defiantly beautiful. I could forever drown in Donna Bianchi and not give a flying fuck about coming up for air. I was lost to her from day one, but until today, I thought that was as far as it would go between us.

Giovanni sits in the front of the SUV, a stoic expression on his face. I don’t miss the way he glances at Sera through the rearview mirror. She’s undeniably stunning. His presence still sits a little uneasy with me, though. Regardless of how much Alfredo trusts the man, I need a little more convincing.

My gaze turns to our leader, a rogue tear rolling down her soft cheek, and as much as I want to reach over and wipe it away, I don’t. I know that Sera has been beating herself up about Enzo’s death. I’ve tried time and time again to tell her that it wasn’t her fault. The Verdis did this and they have to pay. Unfortunately, it’s pretty damn hard to convince someone like Sera that she wasn’t to blame.

Turning my head toward the procession outside, I see my aunt, Enzo’s mother, burying her head into her husband's shoulder. There’s no way we can hear what is being said, but I’m sure it’s all bullshit. Very few people knew the real Enzo, and two of them are currently sitting in this car. He’d be laughing this shit up, making sarcastic comments about the pretentious pricks crying over him, and how the priest douses his fucking coffin like it might set alight at any moment. He’d even remark on the fact there are people drowning in sorrow, all while wearing their best dress and jewelry, people he’s not seen or spoken to in years. Those are probably the things I miss most about him. The way he could turn something shitty into something funny. The way he could light up a room, even if he was a grumpy fucker most of the time.

It takes another hour before the funeral ends and everyone starts to depart. The cars ahead of us disperse in unformed fashion, and once I’m certain it’s clear, I step outside. I hold my hand out for Sera, her eyes pausing on my palm as she chews her lip. It’s a big step for her, I know. I’m not sure how well my words of encouragement will go but she’s got this far, what’s another little nudge?

I reach forward, untucking her lip. “In the words of Enzo LaRosa, let’s get this shit over with.”

Sera laughs softly, taking my hand and lowering herself to the ground. She takes a look around the silent cemetery, uncertainty warring with her usual stubborn confidence.

Giovanni’s boots hitting the ground avert our attention. His burly figure shadowing us both is something I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. His presence does relax Sera a little, though. I’ve already noticed how her shoulders visibly roll back whenever he’s around. Maybe having him around isn’t such a bad thing after all?

“Let’s get this shit over with,” she mutters under her breath.

“Atta girl,” I tease, squeezing her hand.

With Giovanni only two paces behind us, I guide Serafina to Enzo’s grave. The only thing visible is the dirt mound covering the hole, but even that’s surreal in itself. The realization that my cousin is actually gone hits deeper than I thought it ever would. I feel that lump in my throat return, lodging in my windpipe until it’s too hard to breathe.

“You know what the last thing he said to me was?” Sera speaks up, her meek words piercing the silence. There’s a soft tremble to the way she speaks, like she’s trying so hard to be strong. This is the only time I’ve seen her so vulnerable. Any other given day she would be causing havoc or pissing someone off, but any mention of Enzo does something to her. Something I hate to see but know is necessary.

I turn to her, but I don’t say anything. I fear my voice will break too if I do.

“He told me I was his everything,” she sniffs.

I watch the tear roll down her cheek, observing her quickly swiping it away. I know she hates showing any kind of weakness, but out here, she needs to know it’s okay. I just can’t find it in me to say it. The words are too hard to pull out, because I’m doing exactly what I don’t want her to do.

“I never got to say it back. I was too angry at him and at myself.” She peers up at me, her round doe eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. “Why did he wait?”

I shrug. Fuck knows why the asshole waited until a bullet was in his back to tell his best friend how he really felt. I don’t think we’ll ever know the answer to that question, either. Timing, huh?

Sera tugs something out of her hair, sighing as she opens her palm to expose a hair pin. “He used to get so pissed at me for wearing these,” she giggles lightly. “They would fall out all the time and he would end up standing on them or sitting on them.”

There’s a brightness to her words. Reminiscing the good times seems to make her happier, even though I can tell it’s tearing her apart inside. I remain silent as I watch her drop the pin into the dirt. It just sits there, resting like it’s one with the ground.

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