Chapter 35
CHAPTER 35
ALISON
E nvy…
It’s a strong and badly perceived emotion, and exactly what I was feeling at this precise moment of my life. Well, not like an “I hope you fall on your face and be miserable” kind of envy, but the better kind. The “I want that same happiness in my life” kind.
Is that so wrong? I don’t think it is.
All around me, people were finally getting their happy-ever-afters. And I couldn’t help but feel galaxies away from my own.
I was rejoicing for them. These were the people I loved the most in this world. But as selfish as it might seem, I felt my dim light go blind under their bright rays of sunshine.
I was back in New York, sitting at the honored guests’ table at my brother’s wedding in a beautiful mint dress with the most hideous white flower on my shoulder. A matching set with my co-maid of honor, Francesca.
Liam and Jamie were two opposites that completed each other. Two soulmates that life brought together in uncertain circumstances, and this was their promise of happiness to each other. They deserved it, too.
The contrast between this real celebration of love and that prize show of an engagement party I had in California was not lost on me at all.
I felt the love of the people here. Family. Friends. Everyone truly rooting for the happy couple and the fairy tale that followed past torments. They had both gone through hell and walked out tightly holding hands.
Everything here was beyond beautiful. My mother had yet again outdone herself. I could see her luxurious taste in everything. Every detail was primed to perfection. Huge crystal chandeliers were reflected on the mirrored glass of the clothless tables below them. White plates with an elegant gold rim flanked by impeccably clean and shiny goldenware. White, light pink, and mint flowers painted a special romantic scenery that seemed cut out of a magazine page, heightened by the dim lights of the elegant hall.
Our heritage was present on every handwritten seating card and every immaculately set table, scattering Italian cities through the venue to indicate to the guests where they would be spending the evening. Of course, Liam and Jamie were thoughtfully in Venice, the city of love.
The pristine white multi-tier cake was decorated with perfect sugar flowers, matching colors with the real ones. Of course, the parallel with my own doomsday was permanently looming at the back of my mind. Grand would not be my choice if I had one, but now I was marrying a Don. Doesn’t get bigger than that. I’d made my pick, and now I’d have to eat the fucking cake… as long as it’s chocolate, right?
Lavish was an understatement and a huge contrast to what and who Jamie was. But she knew better than to pick a fight with Teresa Battaglia. Everyone did. Everyone except the person I had been avoiding the whole evening. My father.
I called Victor once I got home. I owed him an explanation. I had practically left him hanging after Francesca’s kidnapping, and he deserved at least that much. He had been nothing but nice and understanding. I debated about how much I should tell him and ended up opting for full disclosure.
I told him everything.
About Vincenzo, about the marriage, about Adrianne and my cheating father. About Max, of course, even though he already knew. How I’d come to terms with the damn feelings I had for him and finally gave them a name.
Love.
Once again, he was incredible and told me how much he wished to be able to take all of it away but that he would settle for being there for me if I wanted him to. I was selfish enough to accept after he insisted.
He was my plus one today. Technically, he was already invited, but we decided to go together, as friends. He tried to lift my spirits as best he could, but after I spotted him , my happy poker face went straight to the gutters.
This was the first time I saw Max after California. That was a week ago. He took my words to heart and gave me space to heal the deep wound he had burned into my soul. But if I were to be honest, the distance wasn’t doing what I hoped it would.
Still, I couldn’t afford honesty, so I clung to the fake notion that I needed more time to piece myself together. That was the truth I chose for myself.
Even so, with a metaphorical blindfold over my feelings, I was hopelessly rooting for him to come find me. At least just to find out how I was doing, a small nod, a forced hello, anything. I was searching for any display of affection from him, something that showed me he cared.
Fucked up, I know.
I hadn’t seen him at the church, but as soon as we finished eating and people were happily mingling and fraternizing, he came into view, and my eyes couldn’t help but roam over him. He had a black tux on, a white shirt, and a thin black tie. A gentleman’s attire, indeed, alluring and enticing. But all I saw were his wings under all that, my fingers tracing every feather, coming out cut and bloody from the sharp edges of those weapons.
Black feathers. Black like my heart.
He looked like an angel of sin. A dark lord with the power to show me heaven but taking me straight to hell. I could manage the fire and brimstone, the tortured souls and angels of darkness. But I was alone, burning for no apparent reason.
I wanted him to be as miserable as I was. I wanted him to be wrecked from the distance and especially the silence. I wanted him to hurt… for me.
When did you become so selfish, Alison?
I followed his movements, watching as he chatted and laughed with my brothers as if he was a fucking family member.
Suddenly, Max turned around, maybe sensing my eyes leaning on him, invading him, calling him. He caught me looking, burning me with his glacial glare. I turned mine away, fiddling with the seating card in front of me, but I knew he had seen me staring. I looked at the card for the first time and saw fate.
Verona, how fitting!
The city where love went to die.
I was an unconditional fan of Romeo and Juliet, but not so much now that I felt the tragedy burning my own flesh .
“These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume.”
As that caption came to mind, I finally saw it. Max and I were complete opposites. Maybe not opposites who have the power to complete each other, but opposites who extinguish each other’s light. I had seen mine being consumed, going out like a firefly at the end of days.
I risked a glance towards him again, and his eyes were still stuck on me. He started walking my way as if my prying eyes had given him the invitation he needed. I turned my back to him, closing my eyes and trying to stop my heart from flying out of my chest.
A fucking dream inside a nightmare.
I both craved and repelled his closeness. Seeing him again brought clarity to my state - I wasn’t healing or anywhere near it. I was still burning for him and him alone.
A strong presence beside me charged the atmosphere with a heavy strain. He was looking down at me, waiting for me to turn. I felt it could only be him. But when I turned, it wasn't. It was my father.
I wasn’t sure if relief or dread filled me first. I couldn’t bear to be broken further, and this was not something I wanted to do here and now.
“Father-daughter dance.” He said, nudging towards the dance floor where I saw Jamie swaying to the sound of the soft music with her father, Enzo Amato. “I thought I could dance with mine?” I noticed a few other couples followed suit, and when I turned back, my father had his hand extended, waiting for me to take it. Little did he know that he would be giving me away soon, too.
I forced a smile and took his hand, following him to the dance floor .
“You’ve been avoiding me, Ali. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
I swallowed the words that wanted to spill from my mouth, together with the tears that I felt the urge to let loose. I looked up at him and shook my head, trying to tell him it was nothing, another small smile on my lips, but not a word. Speaking now would open the dam, either a flood of tears or a plague of truths.
“You can talk to me,” He pushed.
“It’s nothing. Not today.” I inhaled deeply, hoping he would just let it go.
“Is it because I’m passing the company’s reins to your brother?” He insisted again, making me look at him in disbelief.
“No!” I didn’t want to go there. This was neither the place, time, or even state of mind. Right now, I couldn’t give him the benefit of the doubt to hear and try to understand his side of this story. If there was any.
“It will always belong to the three of you.”
“Don’t you mean the four of us?” I cut in. I couldn’t hold it back as hard as I tried. My mind was directly wired to my mouth. No brakes, no detours.
“What?”
“I know about her, Dad! I overheard you and Mom.”
He studied my bitter face for a while before releasing his captive breath. “So that’s why.”
“Kinda, yeah.” Any more sarcasm, and I would be changing my name to Acid.
“Have you told your brothers?”
“No. I thought you should do the honors.”
“I will, soon. She’ll be coming to work at AD.”
“WHAT?” I stopped dancing, freeing myself from his hold. Out of love and respect for Liam and Jamie, I found forces in hell to steady my voice and calm down as much as I could.
“She’s my daughter, Alison. It’s my responsibility to take care of her.” I couldn’t believe my ears. It’s like he had just squeezed the rest of my heart dry.
“Forgive me if I never thought you knew what parenting responsibility was. Where was this version of you when I was fourteen? I was your daughter, too.” My voice cracked, matching my broken heart.
“You are my daughter.” He corrected me, but it had no effect on me.
“Just not the one you truly wanted.”
“Don’t say that, Alison.”
Tears didn’t need permission to fall now. They had soaked my cheeks in all the past trauma I thought was buried under my always-happy, self-confident, and vibrant mask. Apparently, it was still alive and well and rearing its ugly head right here in the middle of the dance floor at my brother’s wedding.
“It’s the truth, so why wouldn’t I say it? If it weren’t for me, you’d have your dream life away from us, away from the Mafia, with the love of your life and your love child.”
“It’s not that simple, Sweetheart. And even if I had a chance to go back and do it differently, I wouldn’t. I’ve loved you from the moment I first held you.”
“But you didn’t want me.”
He fell silent, searching for the words that would hurt me less, but there weren’t any.
“It’s not like that.” He finally settled.
“It is. I felt it, Dad. I felt it every single day and still fought those feelings. I’ve always felt that I wasn’t quite what you wanted me to be, and now I know why. I never even stood a chance. ”
That was enough to drain the color from his face. Was it guilt? Remorse? Somehow I couldn’t seem to give a damn about what he was feeling. I felt like I was that little girl again, being left behind because something more important than me came along.
I felt a warm hand on the middle of my back, but my burning gaze was still on my father.
“Mr. Dornier, may I cut in?” I heard Max say, his fingers rubbing small circles on my skin. “Maybe it’s best if Miss Battaglia–”
“Come with me,” Victor said, gently pulling me away by my hand, cutting off whatever Max was going to say. I followed behind, only to stop by a passing waiter to drain two glasses of champagne and grab two more for the ride.
Victor walked me out to the gardens, placing his suit jacket on my shoulders as we sat on a stone bench, letting the silence and the booze overrule my otherwise noisy thoughts as I made my way to the bottom of the other two glasses of champagne.
“Are you okay?” Victor finally broke the silence and my staring gaze into nothing. I was holding on by a thread. Maybe not even that.
“Just peachy!” I replied, my voice rising to an annoying screech. Victor took the empty glasses from my hands, setting them on the bench where he was sitting. He pulled me to my feet, making his comforting jacket slide off my shoulders before wrapping my waist with his strong arm. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I warned him, and he nodded in acceptance.
“Come. Dance with me. Let me calm you a little and keep you away from the champagne?” He smiled as he tested the fields, slowly starting to sway to the sound of the distant melody. I fought back at first, but I needed something that could help keep me whole, even if it was just weak glue or a firm embrace.
Victor held me tight, rocking me gently as if I were a breakable and damaged doll, calming me down from my enraged frenzy. The pain, though? It was going to take a lot more than a lullaby and alcohol.
The darkened garden and the night’s shadows helped to hide my grief and my tears that started staining his shirt. I leaned into him, my head resting on his chest while he hugged me closer. I was that little girl again, feeling like I wasn’t enough, like I was the one to blame for my broken family. If I had behaved, not sassed, if I was better, maybe he wouldn’t have left.
Victor calmly sang the lyrics of the sweet, romantic song against my ear in a low-toned voice that reverberated in his chest, trying to soothe my tainted heart.
“Tell me how I can help.” He whispered.
“Not talking about it right now.” I felt his hold tighten even further, almost fusing us together as I used his peace to draw from.
We danced in the gardens for what seemed like an eternity or maybe just twenty minutes. I was too lost in thought to keep track. Victor spun us again, and my eyes landed on Max. He was walking out the glass doors toward us, stopping in his tracks when he saw me snuggled in Victor’s embrace. I noticed him startle and maybe even a flash of pain crossing his otherwise placid expression. A small, forced smile hardly spread his lips.
Behind his stare, I could see thoughts rushing in his icy irises. He seemed to settle on one. One that made him aim a dry, short nod in my direction.
Acceptance?
Permission ?
No. Resignation!
Lingering for just a second longer than necessary, Max slowly turned to leave, his head hanging low.
I watched him go, feeling the heaviness of his footsteps matching each violent beat of my aching heart. My pain burned deeper while my eyes followed him, walking away. I wasn’t sure if I felt like he was giving up on me or, for the first time, I felt his care for me as he relinquished to my pained plea over a week ago and set me free.
The Bard was right. “These violent delights have violent ends,” and I… I was all consumed.