21. Georgia
21
GEORGIA
Then
“ I don’t believe you,” I said as I watched my father’s sympathetic face. He was sitting behind his desk and had just delivered the unbelievable news that Elio had skipped town.
My father shrugged. “ Amore , I wouldn’t lie about this.”
“He wouldn’t. He wants to marry me…” I trailed off. He’s going to save me.
“Where is he, then?”
“You’ve done something to him,” I accused, standing so quickly my head spun.
“No, amore , I would never. You chose him, I would have respected that, gotten him a suitable job, made sure he took care of you and your future children, God willing. I would never hurt you.”
My father’s face was grave. I couldn’t stand that expression.
I picked up my phone and scrolled for the number of the local police station. It rang a few times before someone answered.
“Hello, I’m calling to see if a young man has been brought in. Elio Santori?”
“Let me check... No, no one by that name. It’s been quiet here today, actually.”
I hung up without saying goodbye. “Just because he’s not in the local jail doesn’t mean you didn’t do something to him.”
“Georgia, please, stay calm. I have an idea of what happened… and even some evidence… if you’ll trust me to show you?”
I flinched away when he tried to touch me, folding my arms over my chest. “Show me. I don’t trust you, but I want to see.”
My father nodded and pulled his laptop toward him. “I asked Elio to get the delivery that you were missing earlier. Somehow it ended up at the De Sanctis house. Salvatore’s right-hand man sent me this.”
A CCTV video played. In it, Elio was walking into the kitchen of the De Sanctis house and over to a package and bag on the floor. He grabbed both and left.
“What did the bag have in it?” I asked, lightheaded.
“Nearly one hundred thousand euros,” my father said quietly. “The last he was seen was leaving the property with the bag. The delivery box was abandoned just down the road from the De Sanctis property.”
I stared at my father so long tears burned my eyes. “What are you saying?”
“He took the money, amore , and ran. He was nothing but a hustler, after a quick buck. Getting saddled with a wife at twenty wasn’t in his plans. He’s gone.”
I shook my head. “He wouldn’t go. He wouldn’t leave me. He wouldn’t just leave me,” I said again, pressing a hand to my chest. My heart was beating too hard.
My father’s face was the picture of pity. I couldn’t stand to look at him.
“Then where is he? What could keep him from you?”
I don’t know.
But I was going to find out.
A month later, I was exhausted, but I hadn’t given up, even though the scant information I’d uncovered had pointed to my father’s theory being true.
Today, I was meeting with a taxi driver who the PI I’d hired had tracked down.
I sat in the meeting, numbness creeping over me.
“I gave the young man a ride to the train station. He said he was going to find someone… a girl. Said he had gotten what he needed here. Seemed eager to get gone.”
A girl? His sister, or someone else? A cold feeling flooded my chest.
“He had a bag with him, a leather one. He was gripping it like it had the crown jewels inside. Gave a good tip, though… He hustled into the station, and I went on about my day.”
The driver gave me the once-over, up and down.
“You okay, Signorina Bellisario?”
“Are you sure he came from the De Sanctis estate? He never said his name, right?”
I was clutching at straws, but I couldn’t quit. Not yet.
“No, no names, but he had an accent. He was from Naples.”
It was still circumstantial. It still didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t definitively Elio.
“The only other thing was his eyes,” the driver continued.
The cold dug its claws into my heart.
“They were green, memorable… light and weird.”
Just like that, my heart froze over.
Every night for a month, I’d sat at the window and shined the flashlight toward the barn. Come to me. Come to me . Please . Come to me.
No one had come. Elio was gone. He’d taken the money and left. He’d really left. And if he ever came back, for all I knew, Salvatore De Sanctis would have him killed for stealing from him. Elio, what have you done?
“Stop crying,” Tommaso murmured, running his hands through my hair strewn across my pillow. Lately, I was either looking for Elio, or crying, sometimes both at the same time. I’d never been so tired.
I’d made it home before the tears had come, and now they wouldn’t stop.
“Georgie. Stop,” Tommaso murmured, his voice sounding wretched. “You need to shower. Come on, get up.”
“Pass.”
“No, I’m not taking no for an answer. You stink,” he said and whipped the covers back dramatically.
“I can’t,” I sobbed.
Tommaso dragged me out of bed, losing patience.
I crawled to the window and grabbed the flashlight. I flashed it at the barn while tears dripped down my face.
“Georgia, stop. He’s not there. He’s long gone, and he’s not coming back. He left you, sweetheart. He left.”
I shook my head frantically. That earlier feeling that my heart was going to burst out of my chest returned tenfold.
Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. Spots danced in front of my eyes, and the air in my lungs burned.
I saw Tommaso reaching for me, then the world went black.
I sat in an exam bed hours later, empty. I had no tears left. I’d cried them all. I stared at the sun sinking below the horizon. My father had been to see me and left when I failed to speak to him. The doctor had already been in.
“You had a panic attack. It was a severe one. Passing out allowed you to breathe again… it was a lucky break. The body’s fail-safe.”
The door opened, and Tommaso came in, shutting it behind him.
“Here, I brought you this.” He lifted a bottle of red wine from a bag and shook it temptingly. “Times like these, you just need to get wasted.”
I swallowed, my throat dry and raw, then reached for my water glass.
Tommaso sat beside me. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I just lost everything that matters,” I muttered. “Like I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“The hospital?”
“Earth,” I admitted with a sigh.
Tommaso gripped my hand. “Don’t fucking say that to me. You’re my best friend. Yes, this is shitty, and awful, but you’ve got a whole life to live. This cannot be the thing that destroys you.”
“I can’t get over it. I know I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Fuck being sorry! Just snap out of it. Sure, take time to grieve, but then move on.”
“I don’t know where Elio is—” I started.
Tommaso snorted, his patience running out.
“I don’t care! He’s not here… he’s not here when you need him. Do you think he’s dead? Did your father have him whacked?” he demanded.
I shook my head. “I don’t think he would. He might not be the best person in the world, but he’s still a prosecutor…”
“Okay, then, where is he? You called all the prisons and jails, every single hospital in the country near enough. Where is he?”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
Tommaso looked furious and wretched as he twisted the cap of the cheap wine and took a swig. “He should be here. Even if it cost him everything, he should find a way. He ran away, Georgia. Took the money and ran. Fuck him.”
I glared at Tommaso. “Stop it.”
“No, I won’t stop it. Fuck that guy. Something happened, or not… but he should be here. It’s been a month.”
“Stop. Just stop. Don’t try and make me hate him.”
“You should hate him. He fucked up your life and broke your heart. Hate him, Georgia, and move the fuck on. You have to live… you have to live.” He pulled me close. “My dearest, sweet friend… you have to live. If you have to hate him to live, then hate him.”
“How can I live? Here, in that house where we were together?” A sob caught in my throat. So, I could still cry, after all?
“No, not here. Fuck here. Fuck your father, and Castel Amaro.”
Tommaso fixed me with a determined look. “I know it’s not New York, or Parsons, but California has a great design school, too.”
“And?”
“And — my internship begins in a few weeks. Come with me. Live in your mother’s homeland… forget everything here. Come with me to America. My parents want to set me up with some girl, a family friend over there, and see me married. I can’t, Georgia, I just can’t. Come with me instead.”
“What? I can’t come with you. My father would never let me and?—”
“He would if we got married. Marry me, Georgia. Agree to be my lawfully wedded bestie, my fake wife, make my parents happy, and let’s get the fuck out of here, together.”