21. Sofia
21
SOFIA
A ngelo’s tires screech as he leaves the hospital, and I hurry inside, heading up to Zip’s room. As I approach, I see a doctor talking to Zip, and I quicken my pace.
“Nonno!” I call out as I enter the room.
Zip’s face lights up when he sees me. He looks better than I expected—still pale, but alert and sitting up in bed. The bruises on his face have faded to a sickly yellow.
“Fee!” he exclaims. “Come here, let me look at you.”
The doctor turns to me with a smile. “You must be his granddaughter. I was just telling Mr. Saldano that he’s making excellent progress. The concussion is healing well, and his ribs are on the mend.”
Relief washes over me, and I smile. “That’s wonderful news. When can he come home?”
“If he continues to improve at this rate, possibly tomorrow,” the doctor replies.
As the doctor leaves, Zip reaches for my hand. “Now, tell me everything. How are you? How’s Lou? And Angelo?”
The rapid-fire questions catch me off guard. “I’m… we’re fine, Nonno. Lou’s with Shawn, and Angelo’s been very supportive.”
Zip’s eyes narrow as he studies my face. “You don’t look fine, Tesoro . You’re pale, and there’s something in your eyes… What’s going on?”
I try to brush it off. “It’s nothing, Nonno. Just worried about you, that’s all.”
But Zip’s not buying it. His voice takes on a stern tone I rarely hear. “Sofia Saldano, I know my girl. And I know when something’s wrong. Tell me what’s going on.”
I bite my lip, torn. Part of me wants to confess everything—about Jonah, about what I did. I have a feeling Zip would understand, maybe even approve. But I can’t bring myself to burden him with that knowledge, not when he’s still recovering.
And not in a public facility like a hospital where anyone could hear me.
“It’s just been a lot to handle,” I say finally. “The shop, Lou, worrying about you…”
Zip’s grip on my hand tightens. “Fee, look at me.”
I meet his eyes reluctantly.
“Whatever it is, whatever’s happened, we’ll face it together. You hear me? You’re not alone in this.”
His words, so similar to Angelo’s, bring tears to my eyes. I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
Zip pulls me into a gentle hug, mindful of his injuries. “That’s my girl. Now, tell me more about this Angelo situation. He treating you right?”
I can’t help but laugh through my tears. “Yes, Nonno. He’s… he’s been amazing.”
“And Lou? What has my littlest girl been up to?”
I can’t help but laugh as I recount Lou’s victory over the bully. “You should have seen her, Nonno. She was like a tiny ninja!”
Zip roars with laughter, wiping tears from his eyes. “That’s my girl! I always knew Lou had it in her. Saldano women are fighters, through and through.”
As I describe the look on the bully’s face when Lou took him down, suddenly, unbidden, a flash of memory hits me. The resistance of Jonah’s flesh as my shears plunged in, the shock in his eyes. My stomach seizes, and I feel the laughter die in my throat.
Zip’s expression changes immediately. “Alright, Fee. Enough’s enough. Something’s eating at you, and I want to know what it is. Now.”
I glance at the door, making sure it’s closed. My lip trembles as I turn back to Zip. “Nonno, I… I did something terrible.”
Taking a deep breath, I confess everything. The confrontation with Jonah, the fear, the shears. As I speak, Zip’s face remains impassive, but I see his mouth tighten when I start to cry.
“Oh, Tesoro ,” he says softly when I finish, reaching out to take my hand. “Come here.”
I lean into his embrace, careful not to hurt him.
“Listen to me, Fee,” Zip says, his voice gentle but firm. “You did what you had to do. Jonah was a threat to you and to Lou. You protected yourself and your daughter. There’s no shame in that.”
I look up at him, sniffling. “But I killed someone, Nonno. I’m a murderer.”
Zip shakes his head. “No, you’re a survivor. And a mother protecting her child. Jonah made his choice when he came after you. You just made sure it was his last bad decision.”
His words, so matter-of-fact, startle a laugh out of me.
“Now,” Zip continues, “what’s done is done. The important thing is to move forward. You’ve got Angelo helping you, right?”
I nod.
“Good. Trust him, Fee. And remember, you’re a Saldano. We’re survivors. We face our problems head-on and we come out stronger.”
I’m not sure if I believe him, but the fact that he’s not judging me or recoiling from me in horror helps a lot. “Thank you, Nonno,” I whisper.
Zip kisses my forehead. “Always, cara mia . Now, tell me more about Angelo. I think I need to have a talk with this young man who’s stolen my granddaughter's heart.”
I visit with Zip for another hour until I can tell he’s getting tired, and then I take my leave. As I wait for the elevator, I text Angelo.
Leaving the hospital. I’m going to head back home.
I don’t expect a text back from him. Whatever was going on at the shop sounded important, so I call an Uber to take me back to Angelo’s place.
As the Uber winds through the city streets, I can’t shake the images flashing through my mind. Jonah’s face, contorted with rage. The shears in my hand. The sickening sound as they pierced his flesh.
Everyone keeps telling me I did the right thing. Zip, Angelo, even Jimbo in his gruff way. They say I was protecting myself, protecting Lou. That I’m not to blame.
But if that’s true, why do I feel like this?
The guilt is a physical weight, pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Every time I close my eyes, I see Jonah falling, the life draining from his eyes. I took someone’s life . How am I supposed to live with that?
I catch my reflection in the car window. The woman staring back at me looks haunted, her eyes shadowed with the knowledge of what she’s done. Is this who I am now? A killer?
The thought sends a wave of nausea through me. I’m the woman who preaches to Lou about non-violence, who believes in second chances. And yet, in one moment of fear and desperation, I became everything I’ve always stood against.
The car pulls up to Angelo’s brownstone, and I see Jimbo standing at the front door, his face set in its usual scowl. He’s a bear of a man, all broad shoulders and intimidating presence, but right now, he looks worried.
“Jimbo?” I call out as I hurry from the car.
He turns, his frown deepening. “Fee. Is Angelo home? I’ve been calling and texting, but he’s not answering.”
I shake my head. “He had to go to the shop. Is everything okay?”
Jimbo curses under his breath. “Dammit. No, everything is not okay.”
I fumble with my keys, letting us both inside. “Does this have anything to do with…” I can’t finish my sentence.
Jimbo shakes his head. “No. This is about business.”
“Oh.” Why don’t I feel more relief at that? “Do you want something to drink while we wait for him?"
Jimbo nods, following me to the kitchen. As I busy myself making coffee, I can feel his eyes on me.
“You okay, kid?” he asks gruffly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
The irony of his words nearly makes me laugh. A ghost. That’s exactly what Jonah is now, isn’t it?
And it’s all because of me.
“I’m fine,” I lie, focusing on the coffee maker to avoid his gaze. “Just tired.”
But as I pour the coffee, my hands shake, nearly spilling the hot liquid. Jimbo steadies the cup, his large hand engulfing mine.
“Fee,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “What happened wasn’t your fault. You hear me?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. But inside, the guilt continues to gnaw at me. Because no matter what anyone says, the truth remains. I took a life. And nothing can ever change that fact.
Jimbo studies me for a moment. “You’re feeling guilty about Jonah, aren’t you?”
I nod, unable to hold it in anymore. “It’s killing me, Jimbo. I can’t stop thinking about it. I took someone’s life . How am I supposed to live with that?”
He’s silent for a long moment, then sighs. “Look, I don’t usually share this, but I’ve got some psychology training. Never practiced, mind you. It was just to help Angelo’s father cope with managing the family.”
This revelation surprises me as I look up from my mug. “Really?”
Jimbo nods. “Yeah. And let me tell you, what you’re feeling? It’s normal . But it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”
He leans forward, his voice gentle. “You did what you had to do to protect yourself and Lou. That doesn’t make you a killer. It makes you a survivor.”
His words echo Zip’s, and something in me starts to ease.
“But here’s the thing," Jimbo continues. “You can’t let this eat you up. Because if you do, it’ll affect everything—your relationship with Lou, with Angelo, even how you see yourself.”
I take a shaky breath. “How do I stop it?”
Jimbo offers some practical advice—mindfulness techniques, ways to redirect my thoughts when the guilt hits. As he speaks, I feel some of the weight lifting from my shoulders.
Then he says something that catches me off guard. “You know, Angelo suffers from the same kind of anxiety his father had, both of them believing they don’t deserve happiness because they can’t show up when their loved ones need them.”
“But that’s not true,” I protest. “Angelo showed up for me.”
Jimbo nods. “Exactly. And that’s huge for him. You and Lou, you’re good for him. But he might need reminding of that sometimes.”
As I absorb this, I realize Jimbo’s given me more than just coping strategies. He’s given me insight into Angelo, into us.
“Thank you, Jimbo,” I say softly. “Really.”
He gruffly waves off my thanks, but I can see the warmth in his eyes. For the first time since that awful moment with Jonah, I feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I can get through this.
“Well, well. Am I interrupting a kumbaya moment?”
I startle at Angelo’s sudden appearance, his trademark smirk on his lips, but my relief at seeing him quickly turns to concern. He’s pale, and I notice his hands trembling slightly. Something’s wrong.
Before I can ask, Jimbo fires back, “Took you long enough, Boss. Get lost on your way home?”
Angelo’s eyes narrow. “Traffic was a bitch. What’s so urgent?”
Jimbo leans forward, his voice dropping. “Got word from our friend at the docks. The shipment’s been compromised.”
Angelo’s eyes widen for a split second before his face hardens. “Shit. How bad?”
“Bad enough that we need to move. Now .”
Angelo curses, then turns to me. “Fee, I’m sorry, but I need to take care of this. We’ll talk later, okay?”
I want to protest, to ask what’s really going on, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. Whatever this is, it’s serious.
“Okay,” I say softly. “Be careful.”
He gives me a quick kiss, then he and Jimbo are out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I keep myself busy throughout the day, and when it’s time, I head to Lou’s school to pick her up. My heart lifts as I see her bound down the steps. Her face lights up when she spots me.
“Mom!” she calls out, rushing into my arms. “You’re here!”
I hug her tightly, breathing in her familiar scent. “Of course I am. How was your day?”
As we walk home, Lou chatters excitedly about her time with Shawn. “We had so much fun, Mom! We watched movies and played games, and guess what?”
“What?” I ask, grateful for this moment of normalcy.
Lou grins mischievously. “Shawn let me have cake for breakfast!”
I gasp in mock horror. “Cake for breakfast? Oh, no, I guess that means you can’t hang out with Shawn anymore.”
The look of absolute horror on Lou’s face is so comical, I can’t help but burst out laughing.
“Mom! No! I was just kidding!” Lou protests frantically.
I ruffle her hair, still chuckling. “So was I, girl. But maybe we’ll keep the cake-for-breakfast thing between us, okay?”
Lou nods vigorously, relief washing over her face. As we continue our walk, I listen to her stories, cherishing this moment of simple happiness.
Once we get back to the house, Lou immediately heads for the dining table. “I’ve got homework to do,” she announces, pulling out her books.
“Alright. I’ll get started on dinner,” I reply, heading to the kitchen.
As I chop vegetables and season chicken, I find myself relaxing into the familiar routine. The rhythmic sound of the knife on the cutting board, the sizzle of oil in the pan—it’s almost meditative.
The front door opens about an hour later, and I hear Angelo’s voice. “Hello? Anybody home?”
“We’re here!” I call out.
Lou’s face lights up at the sound of Angelo’s voice, but she quickly schools her expression into one of casual indifference. “Oh, hey, Angelo,” she says nonchalantly, not looking up from her homework.
I have to stifle a laugh at her attempt to play it cool. Angelo catches my eye and winks, clearly seeing through Lou’s act as well.
“Hey, Louisville,” he says, ruffling her hair as he passes. “How was school?”
Lou shrugs, still maintaining her fa?ade of nonchalance. "It was okay, I guess."
As we sit down to dinner, the conversation turns to Perfezione. Lou’s excitement about the renovations is contagious, and soon, we’re all discussing potential designs and ideas for the auction.
“We could have a fashion show!” Lou suggests enthusiastically. “With all your best designs, Mom!”
I smile at her enthusiasm. “That’s a great idea, honey. What do you think, Angelo?”
But Angelo seems distracted. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, sounds good,” he says, his mind clearly elsewhere.
I catch his eye, raising an eyebrow in silent question. He shakes his head slightly—not now.
After dinner, as Lou gets ready for bed, I can’t shake the feeling that something's wrong. Angelo’s been quiet, almost withdrawn.
Once Lou’s tucked in, I find Angelo in the living room, nursing a glass of whiskey.
“Okay, spill,” I say, sitting next to him. “What’s going on?”
Angelo sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. “It’s Gino,” he says finally. “He’s got footage of Jonah going into Perfezione and… not coming out.”
The world seems to tilt on its axis. My ears start ringing, drowning out everything else. “What?” I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper.
“He’s had eyes on the place since he got back to town,” Angelo explains, his words sounding distant and muffled through the roaring in my ears. “And now he’s using it as leverage.”
My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. I struggle to breathe, panic clawing at my chest. “How… how is that possible? We were so careful…”
“Fee, breathe,” Angelo says, his hands on my shoulders, grounding me.
I try to focus on his face, on his steady gaze, but the room feels like it’s spinning. “What does he want?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“Perfezione, of course,” Angelo says grimly. “But that’s not all. He wants my business too. The cars, and… Fucina.”
The implications hit me like a physical blow. Not just my shop, but Angelo’s entire operation. All because of what I did.
It’s all my fault.