Chapter 14
Xavier
It’s her birthday.
The first one I have to live with knowing she isn’t here to celebrate it. Tonight, the manor is empty. The men have been cleared out of the house. Our business continues as if everything didn’t change for me overnight a year ago.
The men don’t ask why I'm different. When they speak, and my ears can’t register their words, they let it go. They come back another time, hoping then I’ll be able to manage the burden of this position.
The raging fire in the hearth warms my back as I tighten my grip on the bottle of bourbon. My eyes close as I lift it to my lips, allowing the warm liquid to do its job.
Make me forget.
God, I need to forget.
For a year, I’ve searched in vain. I’ve pored through the whole of Europe, unable to cope.
There are no traces of her. There’s not a single match in any database.
She never returned to that apartment. She never took a flight I could trace.
Cara Alfieri’s last known location was in that goddamn apartment.
The body in Madrid wasn’t even hers .
In that, Dominic lied. Perhaps it was to drive me insane, to make me wonder and search for someone who vanished into thin air. To second-guess forever if they really killed her.
She would have come by now.
She’d have found a way to call.
Shaking my head, I refuse that ending, taking another swig, clearing half the bottle. The logs crumble, flames increasing as a sharp gust blows into the house. It’s the door opening.
Closing my eyes, I imagine it’s her.
For a few sparing moments, it is. Then, arms lift me up, past the only people who understand the significance of this day.
My vision blurs them as I’m helped up the stairs.
Their arms are loaded with food. Their sympathetic eyes pitying my inability to focus or even keep myself upright.
In the haze, I see Courtney holding a tin covered with foil. She’s crying.
They haul me into the master bedroom. My mouth wants to refuse, to tell them I haven’t stepped foot in this room for a year. Inebriation prevents it. I grip the sides of the bathroom door, my throat tightening at the sight of her belongings.
Belongings I salvaged years ago from our ransacked apartment in the city.
They say nothing as I retch everything in me, heaving over the toilet. When the nausea begins to subside, I press my head into my forearm, panting, trying to get my shit together.
Dante grips my shoulder, squeezing to provide comfort. “Take a shower and come down to eat something, alright?”
I shrug him off, unable to speak. If I did, I’d lose it.
Whether they understand or not, I don’t care. I want to be alone. I never asked them to come, to try and make this bearable. Grimacing, I shift to my feet, walking into the shower.
As I reach the top of the stairs with damp hair framing my face, the world becomes a bit clearer.
Going through the motions dressing, I walked right past the tailored suits that felt like a uniform, opting instead for sweats and a t-shirt.
Tonight, I can't pretend to be a true Don.
Barefoot, I cross the marble, hearing the masses in the dining room.
Mimi is the first to welcome me, pulling me closer with a remorseful sigh. As Zeke rises from the table, he holds my face, examining me closely. I lower my gaze under his scrutiny. “You okay?” he asks.
I nod, patting his back as I walk past him to Rosie, who’s alone. She kisses my cheek, breathing in. My shame heightens in her presence. “Izzy isn’t here, right?”
“No, I figured you wouldn’t have the energy today.”
She hesitates to let go of my hand as I approach Courtney, who is meticulously setting the table. Every dish she has ever made for Sophie and me in the city covers the long table, enough to feed a dozen. I'm sure it’s her own way of coping.
“Courtney.”
She shakes her head, unable to look at me. I know she’s hurting and that she hates seeing me like this. But deep down, I fear she blames me, just as I blame myself. Her words from the party are always present in my mind.
“Court.”
She begins to weep, the silverware crashing onto the table. Everyone in the room goes quiet as I wrap my arms around her.
“I hate this!” she wails.
My eyes, they burn. “Me too.”
Amidst suffering, they find a way to laugh.
It never feels forced, even though it must be.
Dante was the first to break the silence, relaying the chaotic details of his and Mimi’s meeting with the wedding coordinator. He must’ve mentioned it to me before, but I can’t remember. I can’t remember much these days.
A master storyteller, he managed to crack a few of the glum faces. When he eventually brought up Sophie, cautious eyes darted toward me.
I only stared at him, waiting for more.
Through many tears, they all partook in remembering her. Courtney spoke of Sophie’s childhood, uncovering aspects of my wife that even I was unaware of.
In this room, Sophie is alive.
My eyes drift to the empty seat across the table, reliving the past. The dinners we shared here, once as strangers and later as husband and wife.
In some memories, she observes me cautiously, reluctant to smile.
In others, she sits beside me, gripping my hand for dear life, just out of my father’s view.
As everyone disperses to bring out desserts, coffee, and a cake they made in her memory, I'm left staring at Courtney from the other side of the table.
She smiles softly. “Did you know she came to see me in New York one day you were out working? She told me she was late. Her cycle was off.”
My breathing sharpens. “No, I didn’t know.”
“It wasn’t a baby, but that night, she thought it was.
She was so terrified. She never wanted one.
” I drop my head with a nod. Yes. For months, we used protection for that very reason.
“When she realized it would be yours and look like you, she wasn’t crying anymore.
She couldn’t stop smiling, imagining how happy you’d be about the news. ”
Our night on the train makes sense now. How she guided herself onto me, an acceptance shining in her eyes .
You… You changed everything.
“I can’t accept that she’s gone, Court.”
She smiles softly. “Neither can I.”
“I'm still searching.”
“I knew you would be.” She glances at the kitchen, hearing clanging dishes. “You would never give up on our girl.”
My eyes squeeze closed. “And if I find her? Find her and she’s… gone?”
Her lips pale as she presses them together, struggling to maintain her composure. “Either way, you bring her home.”