Sempre (Forever) (56 page)

He smirked. “Sounds like something she’d do.”

“She doesn’t flinch anymore, either.”

“Yeah, I hated the flinching.”

They passed the flask back and forth for a moment before Dominic spoke again. “It was her, wasn’t it?” Carmine glanced at him cautiously, knowing what he meant by the look on his face. He nodded and Dominic sighed, handing the flask back to him. “I figured.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since we had the family meeting,” he said. “You just got this look on your face, like she wrecked your car or something.”

He took a deep breath, feeling guilty that he’d blamed her. He still sometimes had moments where knowing the truth was hard. It would always hurt, but it was a pain he’d learn to live with.

“I think Mom would be happy to see her,” Dominic said. “To see how much she’s changed. I guess that’s what she wanted, and you did that for her.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

Dominic laughed. “The hell you didn’t. You think that’s Dad’s doing? He brought her here, but you’re the one who made the difference. Mom always said you’d do great things in life, and I see it now, because no matter what you do tomorrow, Carmine, what matters is that you did that today.”

Carmine gazed at Haven as he mulled over his brother’s words. She seemed so relaxed, so at ease, so much like a regular girl. Just looking at her, laughing and chatting, it was hard to imagine she’d been through the things she’d endured. “All I did was love her.”

“Ever think maybe that’s what she needed? Sometimes we don’t have to really do anything. We have to just be.”

They sat there until the flask was empty. Carmine slipped it back into his pocket as Dominic stood up. “You know what’s kind of funny? Well, not funny, but ironic, maybe? She’s been here nine months now, and it takes nine months to create life. It’s like she’s been reborn. And the fact that tomorrow you turn eighteen is just another piece of it. It feels like right now is the start of something, like we’re at the beginning and not the finish line.”

Dominic started to walk away but paused after a few steps, his brow furrowed. “Actually, I don’t think that’s what irony is. Haven would probably correct me again and say I was being symbolic.”

Carmine chuckled. “Or metaphoric.”

Chapter 35

A shiver ran the length of Carmine’s body, causing his muscles to grow taut. Haven stared at his sleeping form for a while, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. There was a stirring inside of her, warmth that started deep inside her chest and spread out through her limbs. It frightened her, but yet it made her feel like she was floating on air.

It was
hope
.

Carmine often spoke about the two of them having a future together, but she could never picture it. All she could see was where she was, never where she was going, but sitting at graduation the day before, she finally saw it. She saw a life on the outside, a life full of promise. A life where marriage and children were options, and education and friendships were possible. A life full of love, where the hope won and the fear was defeated.

It was the future her mama wanted her to have, and the guilt she carried with her faded as she started to think maybe she deserved it.

Haven grabbed the blanket and covered Carmine up before climbing out of bed. She dressed, giving him one last look before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

She pulled out the ingredients for an Italian Cream cake and had the batter together when she heard subtle footsteps behind her. They were restrained, the steps of someone trying to go undetected.

But Haven noticed.

Her hands shook as she scooped the batter into pans, attempting to ignore the presence. Queasiness brewed in her gut as her heart pounded furiously, the eyes boring into her like a drill.

She put the cake into the oven and set the timer. A cold chill ran the length of Haven’s spine when Corrado finally spoke, his voice quiet and flat. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Mr. Moretti,” she said, turning to look at him. He was dressed in a black suit, his jacket open and hands in his pockets. “Can I get you something?”

He didn't move, his stance so statuesque she wondered if he was even breathing. “No,” he said finally, the word echoing in the tense silence.

She resumed making the frosting as he moved toward her. Instinctively, she took a step away. If Katrina had taught her anything, it was to stay out of the way whenever possible.

Corrado grabbed a bottle of water and stood off to the side, watching some more. Dr. DeMarco walked in after a few minutes and gave Corrado a curious look before his eyes found their way to her. “Good morning,
dolcezza
.”

She breathed a surprising sigh of relief at the kindness in his voice. “Good morning, sir.”

“I’m surprised to see you awake so early today,” he said. “I take it Carmine’s still asleep?”

“Yes, sir.”

The timer for the oven went off. Haven pulled out the cake layers while Corrado addressed Dr. DeMarco. “I took care of it. I got back about an hour ago, long enough to clean up.”

Dr. DeMarco sighed loudly as he strolled over to stand beside her, gazing out of the window with a wistful expression on his face. The sun was rising, lighting up the driveway and the thick forest surrounding the property.

“They’ll be here soon,” he said after a moment, his attention shifting to the cake in front of her. “Italian Cream cake.”

“Yes, I made it for Carmine’s birthday.”

Irritation flashed across his face.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Corrado asked from across the room. “I’ve never felt such a strong sense of déjà vu before.”

Dr. DeMarco clenched his teeth, turning to gaze back outside. “When you finish, child, I need you to make sure Carmine’s awake. I’d go up there myself, but something tells me he’s probably not decent.”

He stressed the word decent. Haven’s cheeks flushed. “Yes, sir.”

Corrado laughed. “I’m quite sure this is one of those times Carmine was referring to, Vincent.”

Dr. DeMarco shook his head and left the kitchen without a word. Corrado lingered a moment longer. “When you wake Carmine, tell him his godfather is coming.” He started walking out, muttering, “
Tale il padre, tale il figlio
,” under his breath.

Haven finished the cake and cleaned up before heading upstairs. Carmine’s bedroom door opened as soon as she reached it. He stepped into the hallway, still half-asleep. “Hey,
tesoro
. I was wondering where you ran off to.”

He held his arms out, and she slipped into his embrace. “I made a cake for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “Not to say I won't eat the fuck out of the cake, because I will. I’m just saying I’d rather have you this morning.”

She smiled against his chest. “Your father told me to wake you up.”

“They’re home?”

She nodded. “Corrado said he got back about an hour ago from somewhere. I’m not sure when your father and Celia got back… if they were even gone.”

He looked down at her curiously. “I don’t even wanna know what he was doing all night, but whatever. Wanna go back to bed? It’s still early.”

“I wish we could, but Corrado told me to tell you that your godfather was visiting soon.”

The color drained from his face. “My godfather?”

“Yes.”

Carmine suddenly looked panicked. “Do you know who my godfather is, Haven?”

She shook her head. “Who?”

“It's Salvatore, the man that visited from Chicago.”

She wasn’t sure why he seemed so upset about it. She ran her fingertips across his lips. “Why are you frowning?”

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen,” he said. “I don’t know what he’s gonna say or do, or how he’s gonna act. I told you, people expect things from me.”

“You’re worried he’s going to try to get you to go with him?”

“It’s not just that. I can handle myself, but he controls my father’s life. He has say over what he does. When it comes down to it, my father can’t do a damn thing without Salvatore’s approval. It worries me what that means for you.”

She felt sick. “Are you saying he could take me away?”

“No one’s taking you,” he said, his tone serious. “I’d never let that happen. I’m just saying he can tell my father what to do.”

“Oh.” She still didn’t understand.

Celia was awake when they made it downstairs, the smell of bacon and eggs filtering through the house from the kitchen. Haven offered to help, but Celia vehemently shooed her away.

After an awkward breakfast with little conversation, everyone scattered throughout the house. Dr. DeMarco and Corrado took a seat in the family room while the boys headed upstairs. Haven slipped away to the kitchen to steal a few minutes alone, but Celia spotted her and followed behind.

Haven barely had time to wash one plate before Celia jumped in and took over. “My husband’s not a bad man, you know.”

Those words made Haven think of what Carmine had said.
He’s a decent guy, minus the whole murdering in cold-blood thing
. “I, uh… I didn’t say he was.”

“I know you didn’t. I just felt the need to tell you that. Corrado can come across as cold, but he has a heart.” She paused. “Remember the story I told you over Christmas? Do you remember what Corrado said when he first spoke?”

“Something about protecting family?”

She nodded. “Times may be different, but not a lot has changed since then. He’s a man with good intentions, but he’s a man that sometimes has to do bad things because of it. Do you get that?”

She didn’t get it, but she nodded.

Celia smiled. “My husband takes care of his family, and Haven? That includes you now.”

Haven’s eyes misted with tears. It wasn’t the first time one of them had called her family, but something about Celia saying those words sent her emotions spiraling out of control. Celia seemed so warm and loving, so motherly, and that tore Haven apart with intense longing.

Before she could attempt to put words together, the sound of a car outside pulled their attention away. Celia sighed. “Time to put on our happy faces and pretend to like people.”

Teresa Capozzi enjoyed the finer things in life—the fastest foreign cars, the thickest mink furs, and the best vintage Dom Perignon wines that money could buy. She’d grown up in a life of luxury, her father a high-ranking
Capo
under Antonio DeMarco’s reign. An air of superiority oozed from her pores, her entire demeanor shaped by her greed. It was well-known that Mrs. Capozzi thought of nothing but herself and her next drink.

Nobody liked her, not even her husband of forty years, but she didn’t care. Teresa Capozzi didn’t want to be liked; she wanted to be envied.

Haven watched out of the window in the kitchen as the woman stepped out from the passenger seat of the rented Porsche and smoothed her tight black dress. She sauntered toward the house in her high heels, ignoring Salvatore when he tried to take her arm. He didn’t seem bothered by it and followed behind her to the front door.

The closer Teresa got, the better Haven could make out her features. The woman looked as if she were made out of plastic, her face expressionless and coated in heavy makeup. Her body was rigid and disproportionate, every part of her tucked and tweaked. Even her long black hair was as unnaturally shiny as the gold she wore on her fingers and around her neck.

Dr. DeMarco greeted the couple as Celia started making drinks, ignoring Haven yet again when she told her she could handle it. Haven threw together a Cherry Coke for Carmine, spiking it with a little vodka, and Celia laughed but made no comment.

They carried the drinks into the family room, and Haven’s anxiety grew as she approached their guests. She handed a glass of scotch to Salvatore, her hand shaking from nerves.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he said.

“You too, sir,” she said, avoiding his gaze. Haven handed a glass of some orange liqueur to his wife. “Here you go, ma’am.”

Teresa took it, bringing it to her nose and inhaling. “This isn’t made right,” she said, thrusting it toward her and spilling some of it on the floor. The room went silent instantly.

“I’m sorry,” Haven said as she took the drink back.

She went to turn around and nearly collided with Celia, who grabbed the glass from her hand. “I must be losing my touch. I thought I made it perfectly.”

Teresa glanced between Celia and Haven. “I must’ve been mistaken,” she conceded, reaching for the glass again and taking a sip. “Perfect as usual, Celia.”

“I thought so,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “We all make mistakes.”

The expression on Teresa’s face said she didn’t agree.

Celia took a seat across the room, and Corrado sat down on the arm beside her. She glanced at him, smiling mischievously, and the corner of his lips turned up as he gazed at her.

Haven handed the Cherry Coke to Carmine and started to move away, but he pulled her into his lap and wrapped a protective arm around her. Teresa started coughing as she took a drink, her eyes shifting to Dr. DeMarco as she let out a bitter laugh.

“Teresa,” Salvatore warned. She simply smiled as her husband turned his attention to Carmine. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to stay long. We have a flight tonight for a short vacation in Florida, but I had to take a detour so I could wish you a happy birthday.”

“I appreciate it,” Carmine said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“It’s not every day my godson turns eighteen. This is a big deal.”

Haven considered getting up as Carmine squirmed in his seat, but he gripped her so tightly she doubted it was even possible. “Doesn’t seem that way. I feel no different than I did yesterday.”

Salvatore laughed. “Oh, but it is different. I know you now have enough money to buy whatever your heart desires, but I wanted to get you a little something anyway.”

Teresa pulled out a small box with a red bow on it and handed it to Carmine. “Uh, thanks,” he said, opening the lid. He pulled out a silver watch and eyed it intently. “A Rolex?”