2. Lucas #2
Quinn catches me watching him and gets embarrassed. He returns his attention to juicing a lemon. I’m the one who should be embarrassed. I am, a bit, but it just feels so good to be here and to watch the two of them learning how to be happy .
Quinn is still pretty reserved, but ever since his and Vitali’s relationship evolved from bodyguard and boss to a real partnership, more of Quinn’s personality has emerged. I know why, because the same thing has happened to me with Roman. Quinn feels safe now, like I do.
“Jesus,” Vitali mutters. “There are four kinds of mustard in here.”
“The Dijon,” Quinn says, but Vitali grabs them all. Quinn snorts. “You couldn’t tell which one was Dijon? They have labels.”
Vitali sets the bottles on the island. “I thought you might change your mind.”
“Since when am I indecisive? I do know what I want.”
Vitali wraps his arms around Quinn from behind. “Well, it’s not always obvious, and you’re not always honest. You did spend two years pretending you didn’t want me.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Quinn mutters, trying to shrug Vitali off. “If you’re going to be an asshole, maybe you should go away.”
Vitali nips Quinn’s ear. “No.”
Quinn sighs and pretends to ignore Vitali being draped on him while he works on his marinade.
I glance at Roman to see if he’s enjoying this show as much as I am, but I find him watching me instead.
Roman has always watched me very intently.
I don’t mind. I like it. But there’s something in his eyes that I can’t read, something dark.
It’s not aggressive. It’s not even directed at me. It’s inward.
Instinctively, I reach for his hand where it’s resting by his plate.
His hand twitches and almost pulls away from mine.
He catches himself and overcomes the impulse, but it has me fighting an impulse of my own.
I want to pull back. Even though Roman stopped himself, I’m stung with a sense of rejection.
A lifetime of being unwanted rushes up at me, an unwelcome reminder of my life before Roman.
But I stop myself, like he did. I make myself stay in the moment until Roman turns his hand to let my palm settle against his.
“Do you want to go back upstairs?” I ask quietly.
Roman shakes his head no.
“Okay.”
As I go back to eating my toast, I try to be less obvious about watching Quinn and Vitali, though I do continue.
But I’m watching them now less for enjoyment than for comparison.
Their relationship is different from ours because they are different from us.
I’m not envious of their ribbing and wrestling for dominance.
I wouldn’t want that, even though I enjoy seeing their obvious pleasure in it.
And, yes, it’s entertaining. But what I’m really looking at, all from the corner of my eye, is Vitali as Roman’s brother.
There’s so much similarity in the structure of their handsome faces. They both have dark eyes and dark hair, though Vitali’s longer hair is wavy and stylish. His clothes are stylish too, even his V-neck t-shirt and jeans.
I know that Roman used to dress more like Vitali because his closet is full of expensive clothes.
Most of them don’t fit him anymore. Roman is still huge, but he’s so, so lean, his muscles sharply delineated, his whole body vascular.
Vitali is lean too, but it’s different. Vitali is lean from working out and eating well.
Roman is lean from suffering and because it’s taking a long time for him to remember how to enjoy things.
Then there are Roman’s scars, of course, in contrast to Vitali’s intricate, artful tattoos.
I don’t often let myself compare them. It only ever makes me sad that Roman’s life got yanked off track. Things haven’t been easy for Vitali either, but Roman spent so long in hell that he forgot he was even human.
I accept Roman like that, not because I’m okay with what happened to him but because even when he was at his least human, he was still, somehow, the most human person I’d ever met.
He’s wonderful. I fucking love him. But it’s hard to see him struggling now.
It’s hard to not push him to talk about it.
Should I push him? I don’t know. I really don’t.
When we were captive together, I didn’t have such complicated questions. Our existence was simpler. In some ways, it was easier.
I feel guilty as soon as the thought occurs.
Our situation was terrible. Roman was getting hurt all the time, not just in the fights he was forced into but also by the guards.
It was easier for me only because Roman was protecting me.
I don’t want to go back to that. I just … wish things weren’t so hard.
When I finish my toast, Roman gets up and takes our plates.
I start to get up too, but Roman puts his hand on my shoulder.
I settle back in my chair while he takes the dishes to the sink.
He rinses them and puts them in the dishwasher, then he starts cleaning up the things that Quinn is done with. I love watching them interact.
Roman wasn’t always this easy with Quinn. He was wary, even jealous. Once, when he felt his claim on me was threatened, Roman fucked me here in this kitchen in front of Quinn. And yet, in spite of that incident, I think he always trusted Quinn. Roman is very instinctive.
But something is still in the way with him and his brother. The pressure has eased, but the block is still there, obvious in the way that Vitali is holding himself apart from Roman and Quinn’s interaction.
Sasha comes in, dressed now in her customary black fatigues and tank top.
I can tell instantly that something has happened. Her stride is quick and her expression serious. She’s carrying a tablet.
The energy of the room shifts.
“What’s up?” Vitali asks.
Sasha hands him the tablet. “This is from the camera we have aimed at Arete. ”
That alerts me. Arete is the DiMaggio club, and the DiMaggios are a problem. A longstanding rivalry blew up into a war between crime families when Roman was captured, with the help of the DiMaggios, and sold into a brutal existence.
Two months ago, the Constantines executed a plan to turn the DiMaggios on each other.
Cecilia DiMaggio betrayed her brother, Alesso, who then killed her and a high-level FBI agent that was on the take with the DiMaggio family.
Alesso has been lying low ever since. His father, Gavino, head of the family, has been mostly out of sight as well.
The family is in shambles, and Gavino’s health is failing.
Things have been quiet for the past couple of months, but I can see from Vitali’s expression that this is trouble and that he’s not surprised by it.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Vitali glances at me. “Just some big asshole going into the DiMaggio club.” He hands the tablet to Quinn. “Any idea who he is?”
“Not from this. Maybe if I saw his face, I don’t know. Roman?”
Quinn angles the tablet for him, but Roman shakes his head.
Vitali pulls his phone from his pocket. “I’ll have Joe put some guys on Arete. Maybe we can at least get a better picture to ID him.”
Quinn hands the tablet back to Sasha. He says to Vitali, “I don’t want you at Eclipse tonight. ”
Vitali gives Quinn an annoyed look. “You know I have a meeting with Benito Manzoni.”
“Cancel it,” Quinn says.
“I would look weak and he would get spooked,” Vitali argues. “His operation has the exact right amount of strength to start eroding the DiMaggio territory without threatening us. I need this alliance, and I’m plenty safe in my own club.”
“But—”
“I’m not canceling, Quinn, and I’ll need you focused on your job, not worrying about me.”
“I can do my job just fine while worrying about you,” Quinn says. “I always fucking have.”
Vitali’s expression softens. It’s so strange to see. It’s so nice to see. Vitali can be a really hard man. I know that he kind of has to be, given his position, but Quinn brings out something different in him.
Even so, Vitali argues, “It’ll be fine. Gavino DiMaggio is dying. He’s losing power by the day.”
Quinn crosses his arms. “That’s exactly why he’s extra dangerous right now.”
“I agree with Vitali,” Sasha puts in. “I get where you’re coming from, Quinn, but the meeting’s important. That said, I do think extra security would be a good idea.”
It’s clear that she means the extra security should be her, but Roman says, “I’ll do it.”
My breath catches. I don’t like that. Roman doesn’t do well in the chaos of the nightclub.
But then … he’s not doing well here either. He hasn’t been for a while .
I know that he’s trying. I can feel his effort, like this morning when he tried so hard to sit in the library with me. I felt it, too, when his hand twitched away from mine at the table and he overcame the impulse.
I want to simply give Roman credit for his effort, but as the day goes on, I find myself fixating on the fact that all these efforts are, specifically, efforts to be with me. And he jumped at the opportunity to leave.
I know that’s not really fair. Roman is part of the family business, and of course he wants to protect his brother. But … maybe he needs some space?
Idon’t question that Roman loves me. I know he does. I trust that completely. But what if something about me is bothering him? Am I being needy? Clingy? I thought maybe I should be pushing him to talk, but maybe I should be leaving him alone?
I don’t know what to do.
I try to hide my doubts and fears, but I know Roman senses a change in me. He touches me even more than usual, trying to check in without words. I try to communicate back, to tell him that it’s okay, that he can put his own needs first for once. But I don’t know if he understands.
I should speak. It’s on me. I’m not the one that words are hard for.
But I find myself as silent as he is by the time we sit down for dinner at nine.
Quinn has grilled the steaks to perfection, along with asparagus and roasted red peppers.
I’ve made the garlic mashed potatoes and bread, the brownies too. It’s perfect, or it should be .
But I’m too caught up in myself. I’m aware of it. I hate it. I try to throw off the weight of my insecurities, but I just can’t.
And then it’s too late.
From the entryway window, I watch the red taillights fade down the long driveway to the gate. Roman is gone, and the silence now, without him, is empty.