Chapter 38
Romeo
Ihave my mother’s ashes in hand. The urn is still sealed inside the box it arrived in, unopened. It’s been sitting in the bottom of a cupboard in my spare room for weeks because, truthfully, I didn’t know what to do with them. Now I do.
When Lucia first told me she’d been to see my grandparents, I thought she was referring to my mother’s parents. For some reason, that felt like the ultimate betrayal.
As a boy, I yearned for a relationship with them, but over the years, that want turned to resentment. After the way they acted at my uncle’s funeral, it morphed into full-blown hate. They’ve known about my existence before I was even born, and wanted nothing to do with me.
They could’ve helped me when I was a kid. They could’ve helped my mum, and the underlying hurt that comes with that knowledge is unforgivable. That kind of blinded silence doesn’t fade.
It stays.
It builds.
It eats away at you.
But if I have any chance of making this marriage with Lucia work, by being the kind of man she deserves, I have to put my demons to bed once and for all. It’s time to let go of the past and put my mother and all the emotional baggage she left me to rest.
So, we’re heading to the cemetery where my father is buried. My parents are about to be reunited, and I hope once that’s done, I’ll finally find some peace.
As for the information Lucia gave me on my paternal grandparents, I’m going to sit on that for a while. I need time to wrap my head around it first.
There’s a part of me that desperately wants to meet them, but there’s another part that isn’t sure. What if I don’t live up to their expectations, or worse … what if they don’t like me?
I’ve spent a lifetime feeling like someone nobody asked for. Unwanted and unchosen. I’m not about to unwillingly reopen that festering wound inside me. I’m not rushing this. I won’t put myself back in a place where I’m begging to be enough.
Never again.
“Are you okay?” Lucia asks as we meet in the foyer.
“I’m fine,” I lie, because the truth is I’m nervous.
It feels like I’m about to meet someone I’ve thought about often throughout my life. But the reality is, I’m going to a gravesite to visit a headstone … a ghost. To see my father’s last resting place, not the man himself.
I tuck the box under my arm and open our front door, gesturing with my free hand for Lucia to exit first.
The moment I step out behind her, though, I stop dead in my tracks.
“What the fuck is that?” I mumble under my breath when I see the black Ferrari sitting in the driveway with a large red bow sitting on the bonnet.
Lucia dips her hand into the small bag hooked over her wrist. “Your last present,” she says, pulling out a key fob and dangling it between her fingertips.
The diamond ring I bought before the wedding—the one meant for her, but never given—now sits on her finger, catching the sunlight like it was always meant to be there.
The night after we consummated our marriage, I pulled the ring from my drawer and slid it onto her finger. No words were needed, just the quiet understanding that she was mine, and I was hers. I’m grateful it’s me who gets to be her forever guy.
“You bought me a Ferrari?”
She lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug, like it’s nothing.
But it’s something.
It’s massive.
It’s completely over the fucking top.
I’ve gone from a lifetime of receiving no gifts to this …
“You like?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows.
My eyes move from the key fob to the car, then snap back to her face. “Are you fucking insane?” When a smile curves her lips, I find myself immediately adding, “Actually, don’t answer that.”
She bounces on her feet as she holds out the key. “You have no idea how turned on I am about seeing you sitting behind the wheel of that car. I’m wet just picturing it.”
I bark out a laugh because this woman drives me crazy in the best possible way.
I step towards her and slide my arm around her waist, tugging her petite body into mine. “It’s too much—”
She lifts her hand, placing a finger against my lips, effectively cutting me off. “It’s not. The Famiglia in Italy is thriving under Dante’s rule. That,” she says, gesturing towards the car with a tip of her chin, “costs less than I make in a day.”
I don’t doubt that for a second. Dante’s father seriously underestimated his son when he was alive. He’s got a sharp eye for business. He’s expanded way beyond Italy. We’re global now. We have deals with the Colombians and Chinese, among others.
I lean down and place a chaste kiss on her lips. “How wet?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.
“So wet you’re probably going to have to pull over on the side of the highway somewhere and take care of me.”
A grin spreads across my face because damn if this woman isn’t a dream come true. “I think that can be arranged.”
I thought I knew love before her, but that kind of emotion always came tangled with guilt, obligations, and strings I didn’t ask for. It felt like something I owed, not something I chose.
With Lucia, it’s different. There’s no second-guessing or waiting for the shoe to drop. It’s not one-sided or something that comes with hidden costs. There’s no catch, just her and the version of myself that exists when we’re together.
“I love you,” I say, and it scares me how much I mean it.
How easy it is.
How much I need her to believe it.
How effortlessly I can be real and vulnerable when I’m with her.
“I know,” she replies, and there isn’t a day I’m not grateful for that. “Now, go get in your new car so I can see if the image I’ve built in my mind lives up to the real thing.”
When she pushes the fob into my hand, I move through the front gate and approach the car.
It’s stunning. Sleek, powerful, flawless.
But it’s a lot. Even though I could easily afford a whole garage full of these myself, old habits die hard.
Growing up with nothing teaches you to think twice, even when you have everything.
“Go on,” she encourages.
I click the button on the key as I move around to the driver’s side.
The moment I open the door and slide behind the wheel, I’m hit with the sharp scent of new leather, clean and rich. The interior is all sleek black curves and polished carbon fibre.
I glance through the windscreen when Lucia steps forward, takes the ridiculous red bow off the bonnet, and tosses it aside.
She retreats a step, eyeing me sitting behind the wheel. I can’t hear it with the windows up, but when her hand rests lightly on her chest and she exhales, I know it’s a sigh. One of those soft, quiet ones that says more than words ever could.
My eyes don’t leave hers as I reach for the ignition and start the car.
It purrs to life, low and smooth at first, but when I press my foot on the accelerator, revving the engine, it growls, deep and guttural, the sound ripping through the quiet neighbourhood like a warning.
This isn’t just a car, it’s a beast with a heartbeat, and I’m dying to get it out on the open road.
There’s a soft, sweet look on Lucia’s face when she climbs into the passenger seat.
“Did it live up to your expectations?” I ask.
“And some,” she replies, all breathy. “I’m pretty sure I just had a mini-O.”
The cemetery is quiet, tucked into the hillside, where the grass grows too long between the graves, and the sun beats down with no shade to soften its intensity.
Lucia walks beside me in silence, our steps slow. She doesn’t rush me. I’ve removed the small urn from the box, and it now feels heavy in my hand, not in weight, but by what I’m about to do.
On the drive here, I asked Lucia if she thought I was doing the right thing. She told me I was, without hesitation.
My grandparents told her that my dad loved my mum. She was the first girl he ever brought home to meet them, and they were sure that if the accident hadn’t happened, they probably would have gotten married one day.
Hearing that made me feel like I was finally putting together pieces of a life I never got to live but always carried inside me. But it also hurt. All those what ifs ...
What if they’d gotten the chance?
What if things were different?
How would our lives have turned out if the accident had never happened?
Perhaps this is as close as I’ll come to making things right. Giving them the ending they never had. And maybe, just maybe, it’s the start of something new for me too.
I reach for Lucia’s hand when I stop at his headstone, because I need her strength in the moment to hold it together.
The headstone is tall and polished black marble, its surface smooth and almost reflective in the sunlight. Intricate carvings frame the edges, curling around my father’s name and dates of his birth and death.
Above it, a finely sculpted Madonna watches over the gravesite, her expression serene. A silent witness to a life cut short.
I give myself a moment to take it all in before I crouch down and run the tips of my fingers over his name.
“Hi, Dad,” I whisper, a knot tightening in my throat. “We never got to meet, but I’d like to think you would’ve loved me if we did.”
The words come out choked, and I clear my throat, trying to keep it together.
For fuck’s sake, I swore I wouldn’t break down here.
Tears blur my vision, and I feel Lucia’s hand tighten on my shoulder.
I wish I could say I hope he’s proud of me, of the man I’ve become. But I can’t say it out loud because I’ve done some pretty shitty things. Things he may be ashamed of, but I shove those thoughts down.
Right now, all that matters is this moment.
The Mancini Famiglia saved me in ways I could never repay. I simply did the best I could under the circumstances.
I clench my eyes closed for a moment, suck in a sharp breath, and try to settle the storm that rages inside me.
“She never got over you,” I finally manage to say before pushing myself to my feet.