13. Francesca
FRANCESCA
We slept in a second-floor bedroom.
My father’s primary suite was spacious with an outdoor terrace, but I would need some time before I was able to move in there. I had to go through all his things and decide what to keep and what to toss, and that seemed like too emotional a task right now. We should probably have a funeral first.
I slept like shit all night. Even with Wolfe beside me, I couldn’t relax. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my dad’s body in the hallway and my brother crying as he lay on the floor. I would jerk awake again and look in the shadows of the bedroom I didn’t know.
By the time I woke up the next day, it was past noon and Wolfe was gone, probably getting to work on all the things that needed to be done.
After I left the bed, I saw the duffel bags on the floor, and when I unzipped them, I found the things I’d taken to his place.
He must have had someone go back to retrieve it all so I would have my things.
I took a shower and stood under the warm water for a while, just staring at the colored tile and thinking about all the events of my life that had led me here.
I stepped out and looked at myself in the mirror, seeing my wet hair clinging to my face and neck.
I looked different—at least, my eyes did.
I got ready for the day, put on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, and then headed outside. When I walked down the steps and looked at the dirt road, I expected to see dead bodies everywhere and cars sprayed with bullets, but the road was clear, like nothing had happened.
“Frankie.”
I turned at the sound of Elio’s voice, the closest thing I had to an uncle.
He walked up to me but stopped several feet away, like his presence wasn’t quite welcome. He looked at me with that fatherly gaze, concern and sadness in the lines around his eyes. “You doing okay, sweetheart?”
He’d never called me that before. “Not really.”
He gave a nod. “Yeah, me neither.”
“Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. “Wolfe said you killed Warren.”
“Shot him in the face four times.”
“Good. Your father would be proud. He’d be proud of you for so many things.”
But I would never hear him say those words in the flesh.
“I was wrong about Wolfe. We all were.”
I didn’t gloat. Being right gave me no satisfaction at all. I knew it didn’t make Wolfe feel better either. At the end of the day, my father was dead and gone, and no amount of arrogant self-righteousness would bring him back.
“He’s right for you.”
Wolfe had always been right for me. Since the moment our eyes connected.
Since he’d cut his arms however many times just to get a moment of my attention.
Since he’d kissed me and told me he wanted me and would never let me go.
I wished my father had seen that too. But he didn’t, and now he wouldn’t dance at my wedding.
He wouldn’t hold my children when they were born.
The loss was so unnecessary, and that was what made it hurt so much.
“I know you’ll do a good job running this place. Whenever you’re ready, let me know what you need, and we’ll get to work.”
“I need some time. I feel like we should have a funeral.” My father had a lot of friends in a lot of places.
For a reserved man, he was quite social.
Maybe it was just about networking, but he seemed to care about everyone he mingled with.
Remembered the names of their children and even their grandchildren.
To him, business and friendship went hand in hand.
“Yeah, we should,” he said. “Maybe we can do it here. People can pay their respects at his grave, and then we can have dinner on the terrace like we used to. I think he would like that.”
“Yeah, I do too.”
He moved a little closer to me and pressed his hand on my shoulder. “You know I’m here for you, Frankie. Whatever you need, I’m your man.”
“Thank you, Elio.”
He squeezed me before he let go. Then he walked off.
“Baby.”
I looked behind me and saw Wolfe appear at the top of the stairs. He was in his dark jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, the skin of his neck glistening from the sweat. He’d probably been working all morning getting this place back in shape.
He came down the stairs but didn’t kiss me like he normally would. He seemed distant, like he wanted to give me space after the hard day I’d had yesterday. His eyes flicked back and forth as he took in my appearance, seeing the despair I didn’t try to hide. “You should eat something.”
“Not hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten in over a day.”
I usually got a headache when I fasted too long, but apparently my body had shut down in the sadness.
“Come on,” he said as he nodded toward the terrace. “At least have some coffee and a couple pastries.”
I didn’t want to fight it. I also didn’t know what else to do with myself at the moment. My brain was in a fog, and I couldn’t think beyond the present.
His hand moved to the small of my back, and he escorted me to the terrace.
He pulled out the chair for me under the umbrella and helped me sit before he walked to the kitchen in the house.
He returned a moment later with a cappuccino and a basket of pastries, a pistachio croissant, biscotti, brioche with a cup of mulberry granita.
“A couple things…or a buffet.”
He smirked at the joke. “I told you food would make you feel better.”
I tore off the brioche and spooned the granita onto the bread before I put it in my mouth, the cool touch perfect against the warm bread. I still wasn’t hungry, but I definitely felt better when the food hit my stomach.
Wolfe relaxed in the chair, his arm draped over the back of another chair as he took in the surroundings and me. He didn’t ask me a lot of questions, just let me sit there and enjoy my food in comfortable silence.
I picked at everything in the basket but never ate an entire pastry. My coffee cup was empty, but the caffeine didn’t have the same effect it normally did.
Wolfe stared at me with a discerning gaze.
“I want to have a funeral for him.”
“We can do that.”
“Elio said it should be here since this is where he’s buried.”
Wolfe nodded.
“Do you know where he’s buried?”
Wolfe turned his head and looked at the oak tree far into the distance. “Under the tree.”
I followed his gaze and could make out the stone cross against the base of the tree. I imagined it had his name engraved in it. “Well, at least Leo did right by him.”
“Leo didn’t do that,” he said. “I did.”
I turned back to look at him.
“He didn’t have a proper burial before.” Wolfe met my gaze.
I didn’t ask for details because I didn’t want to know. I’d told myself whatever happened to his body didn’t matter because my father’s soul had left his body the moment he’d been shot. But it still hurt to think…about the possibilities. “Thank—thank you for doing that.”
“He was a good man. He deserves to be remembered.”
My eyes were able to well with tears, but I blinked them back. “Can you take me to see him?”
His eyes filled with a distinct look of sadness as he regarded me. “Of course, baby.” He left his chair and took my hand, and together, we walked down the path to the oak tree in the near distance. The canopy was full of leaves, and the sound of birds singing grew more audible as we drew near.
The headstone came into closer view. I could see my father’s name written from one side of the cross to the other, and then the shaft of the cross showed his date of birth and his date of death. The mound was still slightly elevated from the ground because the grave was fresh.
I stopped before it, seeing my father’s final resting place.
“We got him a Sicilian blue coffin with silver. Really beautiful.”
I nodded. “Thank you.” I dropped his hand, stepped onto the mound of fresh dirt, and then bent my legs underneath me as I sat back on my calves. With my hands together in my lap, I stared at the tombstone Wolfe had picked out.
He stepped back and gave me time to myself.
I felt the summer breeze move through my hair, listened to the birds up above, felt the beat of my strong heart in my chest. There was so much life around me, and it really hit me hard that he wasn’t a part of it.
He would never be a part of it again. The next time I would see him would be when I was dead too.
“Dad…” Tears streaked down my cheeks as I started to cry, as I mourned the relationship that meant more to me than I’d ever realized.
If he had picked my brother to run the place instead of me, I would have accepted that.
But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t mean the world to me that he did pick me.
That he always recognized my strengths and contributions.
That he never dismissed my abilities because I was a woman instead of a man.
He expected the same out of me as my brother.
He was traditional in a lot of ways, but progressive in a modern world.
“You were a good dad, and I’m going to miss you so much. ”
I couldn’t think about running the business again, not when I needed closure for my father first. So we all worked to prepare for his funeral.
Elio knew all of his friends, so he contacted everyone to notify them when and where we were holding the service.
The staff prepared the food to feed at least five hundred people.
Andre made programs and printed out pictures of my father.
We didn’t have enough tables and chairs for that many people, so Wolfe called in a friend who had a hotel, and they let us borrow their tables and chairs to use for the day since they didn’t have any weddings planned.
None of this was in any of the guys’ job descriptions, but they got it done without complaint.
Shipments arrived from customs and everything with the business was in disarray, but it didn’t feel important to me right now.
I needed to give my father a proper goodbye, to honor everything he’d done for us and his community, to give him the final send-off he deserved.