Chapter 33 #2
Without thinking, I reach out. My fingers curl around her wrist. “Stop, Rosa. You don’t have to tell me anymore; this is painful, I can see that.”
“No, I want to tell you, Aria. I see the way you look at me. At this life.” Rosa’s eyes shine with knowing. “You’re wondering why a woman like me. Someone who loves cooking and visiting an old woman in a dementia home chose this life.”
I swallow hard, throat tight. She’s so right.
Rosa turns back to the stove, stirring in slow, rhythmic movements.
“I was young and na?ve when I came to America. On a work permit. When I met Roberto, he was charming–so charming. Like the prince from the American movies I watched as a girl. Mr. Perfect with a loving family.”
A humorless smile touches her lips. “I thought I had found everything I ever wanted.”
My stomach sours. She thought of Roberto the way I once thought of Hayden. Except Rosa didn’t have a Cyan to tear the mask off before it was too late. I step closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, Rosa. You were young. You didn’t know how dark this world could be.”
Rosa tries to hide her pain behind a smile.
“You’re a precious girl, Aria.” Her words settle uneasily in my chest. “We married three months later,” she continues.
“At first, everything was perfect, and then…bit by bit, things changed.”Her grip tightens around the wooden spoon.
“The first time he hit me, it was over nothing. I’d taken too long at the store.
He accused me of cheating. I blamed myself.
Thought maybe I should’ve been faster, maybe I should’ve reassured him more. ”
The detached way she speaks twists my soul. I swallow, forcing air into my lungs. “And… after that?” I manage, my voice as steady as I can make it.
Her laughter is dry, devoid of warmth. “The beatings continued. Each time, for a different reason, if dinner wasn’t hot enough, if I looked at someone too long. Once, I told his mother.”
A bitter smile curves her lips. “Do you know what she said? She told me it was my fault. That I should be a better wife.”
A sharp, burning anger floods my veins. I want to say I’m sorry that no one deserves that. That it wasn’t her fault. But Rosa doesn’t want my pity. “Rosa...I hope you don’t mind my asking, but—” I hesitate. “What made you stay?”
She sighs, her shoulders rising and falling under the weight of a truth she’s carried for years.
“I don’t know,” she admits. “Fear, guilt… hope that maybe he’d change.
But when I found out I was pregnant, I knew I had to leave.
I wouldn’t let my child grow up in that kind of home.
” A lump forms in my throat. Rosa visibly quivers as she continues.
“I started making plans to go back home, but two nights before I was supposed to leave… Roberto found out.”Her voice tightens.
“I can still hear my head hitting the kitchen tiles as the glass I was holding shattered. The cold floor. The way the world went blurry. Then blooming pain across my face when he used a piece of that glass to slice my face. I knew then that he was going to kill me. He dumped my body in a dumpster in an alley, where my Calum found me.” The kitchen atmosphere is heavy, as my tears spill over rolling down my face.
Rosa swallows hard as her own tears fall.
“My little girl fought for three days… but didn’t make it. ”
Rosa again lifts a trembling hand, resting it over the scar on her cheek, the permanent reminder of what she lost. “I didn’t want to live at first. I wanted to die.
” Her voice softens, a flicker of warmth cutting through the grief.
“But Calum wouldn’t let me. He took care of me.
Nursed me back to health, physically and mentally.
Showed me what it meant to be loved by a man.
” I don’t miss the raw grief from her. I’d assumed Rosa had been born into this life.
But she didn’t; she was a survivor, and she chose this life because it chose her first. “I saw what Calum did to Roberto,” she continues, a quiet steel threading through her voice.
“And I didn’t care. I watched as he took revenge for my little girl.
Because by then, I knew the truth.”Her gaze locks with mine.
“Men like Roberto… the ones with clean hands and false smiles. Those are the actual monsters. Men like my Calum and Cyan? They don’t pretend to be something they’re not. ”
Her words slam into me like a fist. For so long, Cyan has been the villain in my story.
But what if… what if he never actually was?
I inhale, forcing my voice steady. “It’s heartbreaking, what you went through.
But you found love again. With Calum.” I swallow.
“I admire your courage, Rosa. Thank you for sharing your story with me.”
She gives me a small smile. “You’re welcome, dear.” She pauses, reaches for a napkin and passes one to me. Rosa wipes her tears. “I saw how you looked that morning at breakfast with the guys—even though you tried to hide it. You were afraid.”
“Rosa, how could I not fear him? The night we met, he made a certain impression. He is dangerous.”
I expect her to argue. She doesn’t, Rosa simply nods.
“I cannot speak about how you met. Even my actions that night…” she bows her head, shame flickering across her features, “are unforgivable. All I can say is this: Cyan had to become this person, Aria. If he hadn’t, we’d all be dead.
He doesn’t know any other way to keep us safe. ”
Rosa’s sorrow, regret, and understanding—catches me off guard. I want to disagree. To insist there’s always another way. But the memory of Leo’s hands on me… the gunfire… Cyan shielded me with his body…keep my words in my mouth.
“What made him become this? Cyan is smart. He could have been…” I shrug, “normal.”
Rosa’s expression darkens. “He was never given that choice, and what is normal, Aria?” Her words snap sharper than she intends.
Rosa pauses, rubbing her forehead. “Remember what I got from my ‘normal’ husband.” I flinch.
She exhales softening and looks out at the ocean view.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap, I’m just…
just—”She shakes her head. “This life isn’t for everyone.
I’m not saying my story has to be yours.
But sometimes, life chooses for you. I can’t tell you Cyan’s story, that’s his to share.
So instead, I told you mine.”An amicable silence stretches between us.
Until, I force myself to ask, “Why does he want me?”
Rosa sighs. “Maybe because he sees in you what he can no longer be.”
She tilts her head in my direction. “I’m biased when it comes to my boys, but Cyan has sacrificed more than you could ever know. He deserves someone good in his life. Someone like you.”
“But I’m not those things,” I whisper. “If you knew what I’ve done—”
Her fingers are warm and rough as she lifts my chin.
“Honey. We all have a past. Don’t let your past self, decide for your present self.
You are not that girl anymore.” Her words chip at the walls of my sins I’ve spent years reinforcing.
“I can tell you something else about the MacBrady men… their love is as fierce as the men themselves. If Cyan wants you, it’s not fleeting.
If you let him in…” She leans closer. “You won’t have to pretend. ”
A strange panic digs its claws into my chest. “He can’t care for me. He can’t.”
“I think he already does. More than care.” Her voice is quiet, but the force of it slams into me.
“He doesn’t,” I breathe. “ He can’t.” I say again.
Rosa only smiles, like she knows something I don’t. “I see the way Cyan looks at you,” she murmurs as she stirs the sauce. “Not just desire…though there’s plenty of that. It’s deeper.”
“Rosa, Cyan… he’s not—” I stop. The words crumble my thoughts again, fracturing.
“I’m not saying you have to accept it,” she continues, “Only that it’s rare for him to let someone in, even a little. Whether you push him away or not… that’s your choice.” Her voice softens. “But he’s never brought a woman home before. Not in the family fold.”
Confusion swirls thick —about today. About him. About myself.
Rosa senses it and sighs. “I won’t push. Just… think about it.”
Needing space, I turn toward the sink. My hands move on autopilot as I sort the dishes.
“I don’t know what to make of my feelings for Cyan,” I admit.
“If you’d asked me this morning, I could’ve kept lying to myself.
But after today… I’m confused.” Rosa stays silent, letting me babble.
“How did you love Calum?” I ask. “How did you become a mobster’s woman? ”
She smiles glowing. “My heart chose Calum. Being a mobster’s woman… that simply came with him.”
My voice wavers. “I-I don’t know what I feel. But the man who, without ever meeting my grandmother, thought of her needs. Also, the man I saw at breakfast, the one who teased his brothers, who made you laugh—him? I… I think maybe I’ll like to know him.”
Rosa’s eyes warm. “That’s all I ask. Get to know him, not the Capo. Give it time. Let him sort out the danger circling our family, and if afterward you don’t want him, don’t want this life… I’ll help you escape it.”
Escape. The word wraps around me like a lifeline. Because escaping Cyan isn’t the real problem. It’s escaping the part of myself that doesn’t want to.
I hesitate, then say, “Alright.” Not to Rosa, but to myself. Setting a fragile truce between my mind and my heart.
Rosa nods, then turns to the cupboard. The gentle clink of glass fills the air. “This kitchen is getting way too dreary. We need wine.”
She retrieves a bottle, dark glass gleaming like garnet.
With practiced ease, she draws the cork free with a soft pop echoing between us.
The scent of rich red wine unfurls in the air as she pours.
“Here,” she says, handing me a glass. “Let’s have a drink while we finish cooking.
I want you back in that good mood of yours. ”
I lift the glass, watching the ruby surface ripple. Rosa is impossible to resist. Her story is one of survival, of love found in unexpected places. But I’m not Rosa and Cyan… he’s not Calum. A single thought flickers through me, unbidden.
He can’t be. Can he?