Chapter 39
ENZO
We binge watch TV all afternoon.
Father’s calls still come, but I ignore them. I give Molly my full attention, but while she watches TV, my mind is all over the place.
She seems to have lost her optimism and that kills me. She no longer believes that things always work out, and I hate that she’s become so jaded. Like I was.
I finally understand everything about her, why she does what she does, why she’s always so ridiculously upbeat.
She isn’t carefree. She’s careful. Molly isn’t sunshine because her life was easy. She became sunshine because she’d experienced so much darkness in her younger years. She notices everything. I now understand why this cozy little apartment and her job mean so much to her.
Later, I make dinner. Molly offers to help, but I can tell from her somber expression that today has battered her. I tell her to rest. She doesn’t protest. She sinks back onto the couch while I make chicken pasta.
I get out the plates and cutlery as I wait for the pasta to boil, and that’s when Father calls again. This must be the sixth time. He’s probably seething. I pick up.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Making pasta,” I reply, calmly.
“Making what?” Judging by the pitch of his voice, I’m guessing that he’s positively apoplectic. This can’t be too good for his health.
“Spaghetti, if you must know.”
“Where the hell are you? I’ve called you dozens of times. What the hell are you up to?”
“I’m in Chicago—”
“Doing what? Haven’t you seen the headlines? The media wants blood.”
“That’s their choice.”
“Have you gone, mad, boy? I presume you’re with that …that … that—”
“Her name is Molly.”
He loses it at the other end and utters a string of profanities. I hope Emanuel, his nurse, is close by to check his blood pressure.
“She’s dragging the Knight name through mud.”
“How?”
“Her father is a convicted criminal. She’s after your money, that’s all she wants. Don’t let her delude you into—”
“She’s not doing anything. I’m not deluded. In fact, my mind has never been clearer.”
“You need to get your carcass back here, boy. We have serious reputation management to do.”
I laugh. “What reputation control do I need to worry about?” I inhale a deep breath. “Molly hasn’t done anything. And neither have I.”
He doesn’t say a word.
“I am coming back,” I tell him. “To see Mama.”
I hear him gasp. “Is Isabella is here?”
He didn’t know. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t. Or that Rio and Matteo wouldn’t have wanted him to know
I’m sick of keeping secrets.
I’m sick of hiding.
“I’ll let you know when I’m ready to talk.” I hang up, placing my hands on the countertop. I think I’ve overboiled the pasta. Molly comes up behind me, pressing her chest into my back. Her arms slide around me.
“What’s up?”
I turn around and slide my arms around her waist. “The pasta seems overdone.”
She lifts a shoulder. “I don’t mind. Mine is always soggy.”
I’m not too worried about the pasta. There’s something else I need her to know. “I’m going back to New York tomorrow. Need to sort out a few things.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I don’t want to.”
“I don’t want you to.” She gives me a sad smile.
An idea pops into my head. “Would you like to come?” I really don’t want to leave her here all by herself.
“Yes.” She nods. “Yes, please.”
Her answer fills me with a sense of peace I desperately need. Her eyes are still shadowed with sadness. But I’m determined to prove to her that her sunny outlook on life is a good thing.
I lean down and press a kiss to her lips. I can’t make today’s trauma disappear for her, but I can be with her and help her find her footing again. I caused damage all those years ago when I showed Mama the photo. I kept quiet, because Mama told me to never talk about it.
Molly dealt with her childhood in her own way. She learned to be useful. To keep things calm. Not to rock the boat.
Maybe we aren't as different as I thought.
Molly chose sunshine.
I chose control.