Chapter 27
the sister life gave me
Mark
“How did it go at the hospital?” I ask, turning toward her.
Cecily lets out a long, tired breath.
“Hard. Obviously. Alicia was the one who cried the most. The last time she saw her grandfather, he was the proud, affectionate man she’d always known. Now... all he can do is blink to signal that he understands.”
The bartender sets our drinks down. We murmur our thanks, and I turn back to Cecily, giving her my full attention.
She had to explain to the kids what happened to their grandfather, including the preliminary diagnosis of locked-in syndrome. He’ll stay fully aware, fully conscious, and able to understand everything happening around him, yet trapped inside his own body, without control or autonomy.
It’s a condition that sounds unreal until you picture it, and then it’s unbearable.
Naturally, she spared them the full, ugly details that would only make the pain worse.
But she told them enough to get the gist of who their grandfather really is, explaining that this was the real reason they hadn’t seen or heard from him much lately.
It wasn’t something that was going to change, either.
He was transferred to Houston yesterday, so Cecily told them and took them to say goodbye before he left. And from what she just told me, I gather that seeing him like that was more of a shock than finding out that dear old grandpa is a lying cheater.
“And how are you?”
She takes a long sip of her drink before looking at me.
“It hurts. I won’t lie and pretend it doesn’t,” she says, a sad smile touching her lips.
“I never wanted to see him like that. I’m not going to stop worrying about him overnight or pretend he doesn’t exist. But he and my mother made their choices…
and staying close out of obligation, or letting my love for them keep putting me in a place where I keep getting hurt, isn’t a choice I’m willing to make. ”
She pauses.
“As you know, I covered the hospital expenses the insurance didn’t cover. And the transfer,” she adds. “Even though my mom could afford it, they’re financially stable for the rest of their lives.”
She looks at a spot beyond my shoulders, her eyes distant. “But like my therapist said, no matter what bond you have with someone, even if you’re blood-related, there are cycles that need to be closed. And that’s what I’m doing.”
I reach for her hand on the bar, giving it a gentle squeeze. Just a reminder that she’s not alone and she’ll always have me. Then I shift the conversation, telling her about the security program I’m coding for a company, offering her a place to rest her thoughts for a while.
I catch her glancing toward the door again.
“Starting to think he’s going to stand us up?” I tease.
He better not.
“What?” She frowns. “No, of course not. He wouldn’t do that. He said they’d be a little late. They should be here any minute.”
The certainty in her voice tells me everything I need to know. Yeah. My friend is completely gone.
“Mark...” She hesitates. “Could you maybe, try not to be too hard on him? At least until you get to know him?”
I smirk. “Worried I’ll put him through an interrogation?”
If you only knew, Cecily...
She groans. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I talked you up so much to him. He’s going to think I was lying.”
I laugh and pull her into a half-hug, careful not to tip her off the barstool.
“Relax,” I say. “It’ll be fine. Let’s see if he makes it through the night with my seal of approval.”
Cecily rolls her eyes, and I lean in to kiss her forehead, just as the man of the hour reaches the bar with a blonde woman I recognize immediately.
Damn. She’s even prettier in person.
“Your hot Italian stallion just arrived,” I murmur, making her turn at the exact same moment.
Alexander smiles at her. She smiles back. And the rest of us might as well cease to exist. It feels like, to them, there’s nothing else in the room.
When he reaches for her, she slides off the barstool without hesitation. He pulls her close. One hand at her waist, the other at the back of her neck. He kisses her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and finally presses a chaste kiss to her lips.
“Ciao, amore.”
This motherfucker is smooth as hell. And the voice? Pure leading-man energy. Think George Clooney, but deeper. Rougher.
More intense.
I should probably take notes.
Because it’s not just me, half the room can’t seem to look away from the sparks flying between them.
Or maybe it’s the Italian.
Do I need to download Duolingo, or does that kind of charm come preinstalled?
And my friend—who has never enjoyed being the center of attention—doesn’t even register it. Right now, only he exists for her.
I shake my head, breaking whatever spell they’ve cast over the place, and stand.
“Well,” I say, slipping into my most bored tone, “if you two are done making half the restaurant jealous and the other half deeply uncomfortable... mind if I introduce myself?”
Alexander’s sister bursts out laughing. Cecily leans her forehead against Alexander’s chest. He laughs too, his thumb brushing over the exposed back of her neck.
She pulls back and gestures between us. “This ray of sunshine, as you already know, is Mark. Mark, this is—”
“The guy who owns the jet that brought you back,” I cut in. “A jet, may I add, that only someone with more money than common sense would buy. Right?”
To my surprise, he reaches out and shakes my hand, laughing.
“Most people just call me Alexander. Or Alex,” he says easily. “And I apologize for the PDA. Next time I’ll try to remember that single lives matter. It’s just… when I see Cecilia, I can’t really help myself.”
Yeah. He’s good.
“And about the jet,” he adds, smiling, one arm staying firmly around Cecily’s waist, “if you ever want to see for yourself how much of an investment it is, and not a waste, just let me know.”
“Are you trying to bribe me so you can date my best friend?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
He considers it, wearing a serious expression that looks mildly amused. “Would it work?”
“Never.”
“Good,” he says without missing a beat. “Then I know she’s right to trust you.”
I give him a short nod. Point for you, Mr. Santoro.
“Well, if I’m clearly the extra here, I should probably get going,” the blonde says.
The sentence lands before I even turn. Her voice has this almost musical quality—soft, faintly sing-song—that makes it impossible not to pay attention.
I look at her, momentarily forgetting she was even part of the scene. My mistake.
She’s stunning. Pale skin, golden hair, and an off-white knit dress that covers almost everything.
Long sleeves, high neckline, completely winter-appropriate until you see the bold cut right down the center of her chest. And just to make sure the point is made, there’s a slit running halfway up her thigh.
When I lift my eyes again, I catch her watching me. There’s no shyness in her gaze. Just a knowing smile.
“Oh sorry, Aurélie,” Cecily says, a touch of embarrassment in her voice. “Blame these two. They’re impossible.”
Aurélie laughs, and wraps Cecily in a hug.
“It’s good to see you again—sis.”
The word makes Cecily’s smile glow.
They separate, and Cecily makes the introductions. Aurélie extends her hand for a polite shake.
I have other plans. I intercept it smoothly, turn her palm down, and press a kiss to her knuckles without breaking eye contact.
“Enchanté.”[LXXIII]
One perfectly groomed brow lifts. Amused. “Are you trying to impress me?”
“And if I am?” I say with a smirk. “Though I should warn you—I grew up in New Orleans, so...”
That does it. She starts talking about how much she loves New Orleans as we head toward our table.
When we reach the table, I catch Alexander shifting, already gearing up to play the gracious host and give up his seat beside Cecily. I stop him with a gesture.
“Sit with your girl, Alexander. I’ll take the seat next to your sister,” I say, then turn to Aurélie, lowering my voice just a notch. “If you don’t mind.”
Her smile turns downright dangerous. “Not at all.”
Alexander shoots me a look of gratitude. We take our seats and order before the waiter even has a chance to ask.
On our way out of the restaurant, Aurélie notices a bar where a jazz trio is playing—upright bass, drums, muted trumpet—and suggests we keep the night going a little longer. And here we are.
Alexander and I leave the women at the table and head to the bar to order drinks.
Dinner was great. The food was impeccable, and the company surpassed every expectation I had. But the real payoff was watching, up close, exactly why my friend fell so hard for the charms of this smooth Italian.
He respects her autonomy. It shows in his words and all those small gestures—he’s devoted without being stifling, looking after her without hovering or imposing his own ego on the night.
They’re always tuned into each other, moving with the natural ease of a couple shaped by years, not months. It’s even more striking because they spent most of that time as only friends.
I’ve never seen her this happy. And there’s something deeply right about this version of her. Especially when, for a while, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see her let herself love again. Not after everything.
We stop at the bar, and while we wait to be served, I study him as his eyes scan the room.
I already know everything I need to know about him.
That doesn’t mean I’ll stop paying attention.
If he ever turns out to be a selfish asshole, I’ll see it coming.
And if that day arrives, there are always ways to teach him a lesson or two.
“I know it was you,” I say, my voice loud enough for him to hear.
He turns toward me, and I continue.
“I know you’re the one who took down that disgusting site.”
He smiles.
“And I know you bought that rag and turned it into a support platform for women in toxic relationships. With actual funding, enough to help a lot of them start over when they otherwise couldn’t.”