Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
LUCA
I t’s been two weeks.
Two weeks of utter hell on earth.
I flick the light off in my former office, turning back to look over the space. Tomorrow, a new priest will move into the office and the rectory, taking over my job and making it his own. It’s surreal to think that I’ve taken this step.
Even with her gone, though, I’m changed. Down to each molecule rushing through my body. My very makeup is altered because of her. She came when I was already faltering in my faith. When I should have been gripping on even harder.
“Ready, love?” Mom asks as I enter back into the nave. Standing, she slings her purse over her shoulder.
I grip my box firmly. “I am.”
“I’m proud of you, you know?” she says as we load my last box into the trunk.
I nod.
There isn’t anything to say to her.
I’d resigned my post, with pushback from the bishop and the church because of my pristine record and standing within the church—if they only knew what happened in that confessional between Sloane and me.
A grin plasters on my face, but it falls into a frown at the thought of her.
Ardesia hasn’t been able to pinpoint where Matteo is keeping her hostage, and with the politics between the five families so tense right now, he’s treading carefully.
Without a word about her, I’m going insane.
“You want to come over for dinner?” Mom asks, and I shake my head.
“Take me home, please.”
She sighs from a deep place that likely has so much pent-up frustration bubbling over that she wants to spew at me, but she keeps it to herself and puts the car into drive.
I secured a job at the local university in the theology department. With all I’ve saved over the years by living in the rectory, I got myself into a decent apartment close to campus.
Everything feels new and odd. I know it’s because Sloane is still missing.
Every day, I fall to my knees and beg God to bring her back, to give us a lead, anything.
But every day, my prayer goes unanswered.
“Any word?” Mom asks, breaking the ringing silence in the car.
I shake my head, unable to put words together.
I’ve cried about all I can.
Though, when I think I’ve cried myself to death, more tears come.
There will probably be more.
Taking out my phone, I text Ardesia, as I do each morning.
Anything?
Nothing I’ll speak about over text or phone conversation. Dinner tonight?
Where?
My place
I’ll be there.
6 p.m. Bring wine.
Pocketing my phone, I try to slow my heart down some. He’s done this before, and it boasted no more information than we had before. I can’t let my hopes get too high.
“They’ll find her,” Mom says, returning me to the here and now.
“And if they don’t?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “You can’t think like that. I know you’ve left the faith, Luca, but you need to keep the faith about this. She’s going to come back to you.”
“But in what shape?” I counter.
As she pulls up the curb of my apartment complex, she heaves another sigh from her broad chest.
“The shape doesn’t matter. You love her?”
I lick my lips. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. Too much fucking time. “I do.”
Something inside me feels as if it clicks together at the admission, as if my body was waiting to mend itself until my brain caught up to my heart.
“I love her,” I add. “So much. I know our ages make little sense…”
Mom tsks, rolling her eyes. “Who cares about that?! Love is love.”
“John will never let me live it down, and you know it.”
She scoffs. “You leave your brother to me.”
Her stern face is one I’ve seen often. One that says she won’t be challenged .
“If you think you can handle him,” I joke, smiling for the first time in forever.
When she pokes me, I pull away and laugh. “If I could handle your father, I think I can handle his sons, don’t you?”
I nod.
A sadness spreads between us, and my smile falls.
“You truly think I made the right choice?” I ask her.
Her renewed smile is filled with light and love. “I do, my love. I do.”
It makes assurance blossom in my chest. It makes me feel validated, even if I feel like I’m in limbo until I get her back.
“Well, I need to get inside and get things tidied up. I have dinner with Ardesia tonight to discuss what he found out about Sloane.”
“Go, go, don’t let an old woman keep you. Good luck on your first day of classes next week. Call me and let me know how they go, hm?”
I lean over and kiss her cheek softly, lingering to inhale her perfume for strength.
“I love you, Mama.”
“And I, you,” she replies as I push into the chilly air.
Once I’ve got my boxes inside, I lock up and look over the expanse of the apartment.
Mama had ordered furniture delivered yesterday, and she even arranged it. John had brought me a bed and furnishings for the bedroom.
And to my surprise, he hasn’t prodded me for info on what happened or why I left the church as if he expected it to happen. I don’t know if I’m relieved by that or angered even more.
Either way, they rallied and helped me get my life in order when I was sure it would crumble and crush me.
Now, I need to get my girl.
Then, I’ll be set.
Ardesia Ricci lives in the most lavish apartment I’ve ever seen. Marble floors and granite counters look to be shined and polished daily. The table has six chairs, but only three places are set for dinner.
“You can put the wine on the table,” Brynne calls from the kitchen, and I do as I’m told.
Ardesia comes down the hall in slacks, a button-up shirt, and dress shoes. Even dressed down, he looks every bit the part of the powerful Don he is.
“Oh, you’re here. I didn’t hear the door,” he says, waving me toward a drink cart in the living room.
“Dinner will be done in twenty!” Brynne yells.
“Thank you, bunny!” Ardesia calls back, and her head shoots out of the door, a deep rouge on her cheeks.
“Not in front of company,” she mouths, and I can’t help but smile at their banter.
They have a love that some search lifetimes for.
I also can’t help but let jealousy brew in my chest.
“You said you had something you didn’t want to discuss over the phone?” I ask him about the forgoing pomp and circumstance and getting down to business.
He sighs. “I do. But let’s talk about it over food. Brynne wants to be present.”
I take a whiskey from him, and he looks at me knowingly.
He knows if it were him missing his woman, he’d act the same. It would be more severe in his case, being who he is. I am not Ardesia Ricci, the Grim Reaper of New York. I don’t have the power or know-how to find and rescue Sloane.
I wish I did, though.
“I heard something disturbing today,” Ardesia says, dropping into a chair and crossing his leg over the other as he sips from his glass.
“Did you, now?” I sit across from him, letting the small table between us be the buffer.
There’s an aura around Ardesia that’s palpable to everyone, and it’s not one you want to float within too long. Sometimes, I wonder how Brynne does it.
“Mm, a little birdy told me you left the church.”
I nod, letting the whiskey burn its way down my throat and into my soul.
It’s reminiscent, this moment. The first time I met Ardesia, we had a drink together—the afternoon of his wedding.
“Your little birdy would be correct. I cleaned out my office today and moved out of the rectory last week.”
Ardesia narrows his eyes at me. “Because of Sloane?”
I grapple with how to answer. I’d been preparing to answer John’s questions for days after I made the move, but when he didn’t ask me a thing, I stopped worrying about what to say to people.
“Not entirely, no.”
“I knew you were struggling, but I hadn’t realized it was with your faith,” he says, setting his glass on his knee.
I sigh, downing the rest of my drink in one swallow. “It’s not that I’ve lost faith, but I am still wavering, I’ll admit.”
“A crisis of faith is normal, I think. Especially after seeing and realizing the world that I dwell in. You dove right off the deep end when you brought me that confession, and I don’t think you were ready to see the dark, seedy side of this city.”
I swallow. He’s not wrong. I had no clue about the world I was stepping into. Sure, I know what’s going on around me. I ran charities for the church and visited shelters and hospitals, but to see it firsthand, instead of seeing it on the news, is an entirely different story.
“Part of the reason I left is Sloane, I’ll admit. She made me realize how much I was missing in life. I don’t need to step away from the faith entirely. I took a job at the university, teaching theology, but I know in my soul that I don’t want to live in a future where she’s not in it. Where she’s not beside me.”
Ardesia looks up as Brynne walks into the room. She’s in a sleek black dress and matching high heels. The apron she has tied in front of her dress has roosters on it, and it makes me immediately think of the day Sloane and I went against Satan’s Rooster back at the cabin.
I look down at my glass, twirling the remaining thin amount of whiskey at its base as I smile.
“Daddy,” she whispers, low enough she likely thinks I can’t hear her. “Dinner is served when you’re ready.”
“I’ll be right in, baby girl.”
The sound of a kiss makes my heart yearn for Sloane even more, and I swallow the tightness in my throat.
“More whiskey to have with your food, Fath—I mean, Luca.”
I smile, standing and offering my glass to him. “Sure, Slate.”
He shakes his head. “About damn time you get my name right.”
I follow him into the dining room, where Brynne has set out a beautiful meal and poured our wine.
I sit down, bow my head, and pray.
“Aloud, please,” Slate says, and I smile, something untangling in my chest as I do just that: bless our food and pray for guidance and strength.
“Now, please tell me what’s happening before I lose my mind.” I look between them as unease spreads on the table like a tiger about to pounce.
“We’ve found Sloane,” Slate says, and I can almost feel the ‘But’ hanging heavy in the air.
“But,” Brynne adds, confirming my suspicion. “It needs to be handled delicately.”
I nod, my stomach souring as I tightly grip my fork for something tangible to hang on to.
“I’m going, of course.”
Slate gives Brynne a look of I told you so , and she pushes him with a flare of her eyes.
“We need you to hang back, Luca,” she says.
She always calls me Father. Slate must’ve told her I left the church. Of course, he told her.
“We don’t know what state she’ll be in or if she’ll want to come with us,” Slate adds.
My brows quirk. “Why wouldn’t she want to come with us? We’re rescuing her.”
They share another look, and my nerves sizzle through my body.
“She’s been with him nearly three weeks, and what she’s likely had to do to survive can fuck with you…mentally,” Brynne tells me, reaching for my hand and wrapping her own over mine.
Because mine is shaking.
I swallow. “You’re saying she might not want to return to me?”
No one speaks.
No one has to.
I bow, tears falling into the beautifully cooked steak Brynne had plated for me.
She might not come back.
It’s a truth I hadn’t even considered, and now that I’m faced with it, I can’t breathe.