Chapter 33 #2
She gasps, her eyes bathed with tears, her fingers falling over her lips. “I knew she was dead but hearing it…it’s hard.” Wiping under her eyes, she shuffles in her seat. “I’m sorry for your loss, Dom.”
He leans back, ankle bopping over his knee.
“I’m sorry I never said anything before, Chiara. Your mother didn’t want you to know anything about Francesco until you really had to.”
She gets up, kneeling beside me, clutching my hand.
“Please, forgive me,” she begs, tears shining brightly in her eyes.
“I understand.” I nod, my tone cut with so much turmoil.
Clearing her throat, she rises to her feet. “She left you a letter.”
“What?” My pulse quickens. “Why didn’t you ever give it to me?”
She purses her lips. “She asked me to only give it to you when you came looking for answers. I wanted to respect her wishes.”
“Where is it?” I stand up instantly.
“I’ll get it.” She pats my hand. “Sit. I’ll be right back.”
A moment later, she returns, handing me a white business envelope. I quickly remove the paper inside, unfolding it, unable to wait another second without reading my mother’s words.
Dear Chiara,
If you’re reading this, it means I’m gone. I’m sorry, baby. That was never my plan. You were my whole world. Are my whole world. No matter where I am, you’ll always be my everything. You’re the only good thing I did in my life.
When I met your father, we were both young and fell in love so fast. My parents were old-fashioned, wanting me to marry young.
They liked the sort of family your father belonged to, so they had no objections when he asked my father for my hand.
Back then, all I saw were hearts, even when he was possessive over what boy spoke to me or looked at me.
I brushed it off as him loving me. I was a fool. I know that now.
Your father was awful to me, to us. It’s my fault. You should’ve never been on the receiving end of it, but by that point, all I could do was run away. And I tried, but I think he knows and that’s probably why I’m dead now.
Plop.
Plop.
Tears drip down onto the black ink, smudging over her words.
I hadn’t even noticed I was crying. I swipe under my eyes, ignoring them, and continue to read.
With Francesco’s help, I planned to take us to France, so we could eat our crepes and wear our fancy dresses like we’d always pretend to when you were younger.
Do you remember that? I’m sorry we never got that chance.
I wish I didn’t have to leave you, especially knowing who you’re left with.
It kills to even write this letter. My heart’s breaking with every sentence.
Please, don’t be mad at your aunt. This wasn’t her story to tell. I asked her to only give you this letter when she felt the time was right.
I love you forever. I’ll always be with you.
Hold on to your aunt, and to Dom. It’s okay to hold on to the strength of others when we need it.
Love,
Mom
Clutching the paper against my chest, I pull in a breath so shallow, it clenches my chest, my heartbeats stuck in my throat.
I let the tears cleanse my soul, my eyes falling to a close for mere seconds before I’m standing up, running outside. The air feels good on my lungs as I force myself to inhale, exhale, and then repeat.
I hear the heavy thud of his footsteps.
“Chiara, wait!” Dom calls, as I round the house, heading for the yard.
I try to shut the door in his face, but he plants a palm, stopping me. Marching inside as he closes the gate, I turn to him, hand on my hip, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.
“What the hell do you want from me?!”
“Baby, I’m sorry. That must’ve been a hard letter to read.”
He stands where he is, a few feet between us. When I don’t respond, he continues with a sigh.
“I care for you, Chiara. So much. Can we talk? If you want me to go after that, I will. I promise.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I glare at his softened features. “Fine. Say what you want to say and then get the fuck out of here.”
“The day we ran away, the day your father killed mine…I got a text from you. A cruel fucking text. Do you remember what you said?”
My every muscle goes rigid, cold dread washing over me, prickling at my skin. “Wha—what text, Dom? I never wrote you one. It wasn’t me.”
“Yeah, you did. You told me you never liked me, that you felt sorry for me, that my family and I are all losers like your father always said.” He moves up a step toward me.
“Can you imagine how broken I felt, just seeing Matteo and Dad shot in front of me, then reading those fucking words from you, of all people?”
He palms the back of his neck, his triceps flexing through his clothes from the force of it.
I clutch my chest, gasping. “You saw them die?”
“Yeah, Chiara, I did.”
The color drains from my face. I can feel it just as much as I can feel my heart squeezing, as though shrinking into nothing.
“I’m so sorry.” My voice splits with a cry, my hands wanting to reach for him, to hold him.
Something trickles down my cheek, and I realize it’s my tears. I swipe at the remnants of my pain, hurting for the both of us.
“You need to know I never sent you those texts, Dom. I promise you. I would never say that to you. Not ever.” I shake my head, my brows huddled close. “You were my best friend. You meant everything to me. So did your family.”
Dom’s expression pales. “Then how did—”
My heartbeats thunder in my ears, the shock of it all drowning me in icy waters. My father always knew how to destroy lives. He did it flawlessly, especially to me.
“My father took my phone the day my mom di-died.” I flinch, taking a deep breath. “I never got it back until days later when he changed my number. I kept texting you to tell you I had a new one, to find out where you were, but you never replied.”
“Oh, fuck! If only I had my damn phone! I tossed it after I read your texts.”
He clenches a fist and slams it into his palm, pacing back and forth. When his eyes are finally on mine, he takes an unsure step toward me, and then another.
“If I’d known you didn’t send them…if I’d known it was him… My God, Chiara!” he roars, his features tortured.
“I can’t believe you thought so little of me and our friendship.” I shake my head in disbelief.
“I didn’t know what to think!” he shouts, not with anger, but with complete grief.
“I swear, at the time, I was broken. I thought I’d lost you too, that you hated me and my family like your father did.
I thought you took his side, that our friendship was over.
Then as I watched you years down the line, seeing you working at the club.
At his club. I thought your alliance was with him. ”
This is too much to handle right now. I struggle to breathe, unable to pull air into my burning lungs.
Moving even closer, he destroys all the space between us, taking my hands in his. But no matter how close he gets to my body, I won’t let him get close enough to my heart.
Not again.
He broke all the trust I used to have in the boy who’d slay dragons for me. I never thought that one day, he’d be the dragon I’d need to slay.
“Why were you following me?” I ask. “All this time that was you, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was. I told myself it was because of your father, but that was a lie. I wanted to know you, to be close to you somehow. I missed you, Chiara. Don’t you get it?
Even when I was at my lowest, thinking you hated me, I still missed you.
I still cared about you.” His fingers tighten around my hands, his gaze delving into mine.
“Please forgive me. Forgive how I did what I did. I wanted to protect you from him, but I went about it all wrong.”
My heart coils with the beauty of his words, but instead of letting it consume me, letting it take me to a place where I can sympathize with his decisions, I clench my jaw and yank my hands away.
“It’s too late for all of that,” I whisper-shout, not wanting my aunt to hear. “We’re not the friends we once were.” I pin him with a glare. “All this time, you thought I was this awful person who could say those awful things after everything we’ve shared?”
I look to him with disbelief, a cry falling from my lips.
“I know I fucked up,” he whispers, “I should’ve—”
“You should’ve what, huh?!” I shout. “Should’ve come to me years ago? Confronted me?” I poke him with my finger. “You should’ve!”
My brows bend with agonizing pain. “You could’ve come to me.” My voice drops. “You could’ve told me what was going on. I would’ve helped you. I would’ve done whatever you wanted.” An ache builds behind my nose, tears stinging my eyes.
He grips my shoulder while his other hand feathers under my jaw, sending a jolt down my spine.
“I couldn't take the risk,” he tries to explain. “I couldn’t tell you my plans, because I wasn’t sure who you were loyal to, and I couldn’t let anything get in the way of what we had in store. I waited so long for it, Chiara. We all did.”
He grips my jaw within the large span of his palm, his own eyes glazing with his own hurt.
“I knew that the only way to destroy your father was to grow my kingdom so I could watch his burn. But even through it all, I wanted you. I always did. I just thought you didn’t want me, so I let my heart die the moment I read those texts.
But, baby…” His voice softens with the beat of my heart.
“Since I got you back, I can feel my heart beating again. I never thought I’d be capable of loving anyone, but now I've realized that the only person I want to love is you.”
My hand closes around his wrist, a silent whimper falling out of me, wanting to hold on while at the same time knowing I should let go. Of him, of us, of any chance we could’ve had. How can I ever trust him after what he’s done? How can we build a future on top of the ruins of us?