Chapter 19
ISEULT
Yesterday, my father and I arrived at Michael’s, and I did everything I possibly could to avoid Gio.
That was harder earlier today, though, when we all went to interrogate Giancarlo together. By interrogate, I mean torture him until he told us where he’s keeping Nicolette. But he told us more than any of us bargained for.
Thanks to Giancarlo, I finally learned the truth of who owned my father’s heart all those years. Instead of giving his whole heart to my mother, half of it belonged to Gio’s mother, Fernanda.
Yep, that Fernanda.
Of all people in this fucking world. She’s the one he loved.
No. Loves, apparently! He’s still in love with her!
My stomach churns as I wander into the foyer, back at Michael’s home.
I can’t handle this.
My mother deserved better.
We both know Fernanda was always too good for you, he told Giancarlo. But circumstances and bloodlines prevented me from being her husband the way I was always meant to be.
“Fuck!” I groan, aimlessly roaming around this damn house, climbing up the spiral stairs where I don’t have to hear my father talking to Fernanda. Probably planning their damn future together, now that nothing is stopping them.
I pace into a large, dim hallway, wishing I had driven my own car from Cherry Grove so I could get out of here. But my father said it would make sense to take his car and come to New York together.
How could he do this to Mom and to her memory?
She deserved more than to be married to a man who didn’t love her like his whole world revolved around her. She deserved more than to be scorched alive, to die in such excruciating pain.
A raw ache pounds behind my eyes, and I feel them coming. The tears. The endless river of grief. It comes whenever I think about her. Whenever I recall the vivid details of her death. And seeing your own mother die like that is something you never forget.
Silently crying, I lower onto the floor with my back against the wall and bury my face in my lap.
Suddenly, a door squeaks from my right. Michael’s six-year-old daughter, Sophia, widens her big brown eyes at me, rays of bright sunlight flitting behind her, with her long, chestnut-colored hair glistening from around her shoulders.
I met her already when I first arrived, but I never actually said a word to the girl.
“Are you okay?” she asks, squinting, her voice syrupy-sweet.
That has me plastering a wide grin and wiping under my eyes, hoping she didn’t catch those damn tears of mine.
She continues to assess me with a speculative expression, and it’s a bit unnerving. I need to get the hell out of here.
“Yeah, just fine. Sorry,” I mutter, quickly rising to my feet. “I didn’t mean to be up here.”
“That’s okay.” She smiles widely, bright pink lipstick on her mouth. “You’re our guest.” Her brows knit from the doorway. “You were crying?”
“I was not.” I clear my throat, brushing my hair off my cheek.
She throws a hand on her hip and stares knowingly at me. “I know what I saw, and you had tears on your cheek. Why would you have tears on your cheek if you weren’t crying?”
Where the hell did I just end up?
“You’re six. What do you know?”
We’re arguing with kids now, Iseult? Really?
“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” Her words are laced with kindness, and I swear my body breaks with hives.
“Okay, kid.” I draw my features into an uncomfortable grimace. “Gonna go now. Nice chatting with ya.” I turn, giving her my back.
“You know…” she goes on, halting me in place. “It’s okay to cry. Mabel tells me that all the time.”
I exhale sharply, staring up at the ceiling because now I really wanna know who the hell this Mabel is so I can tell her how wrong she is.
“And who is Mabel?” I whirl back around, finding her just where I left her.
“She’s the nice lady who cleans our house and also babysits me sometimes. She’s also my friend and very smart.” Her little mouth pinches with a smile, cheeks just as rosy.
Was I ever this happy? Because this child, she’s happy. If I was like her once upon a time, I don’t remember. Sometimes I wish I could recall all the days I spent with my mom from when I was little. I’d hold on to all those beautiful memories.
“Sophia?” a woman’s alarmed voice rings from behind the little girl.
Sophia turns, just as a strikingly attractive woman appears. Her long black hair is pinned up in a messy bun, her dark brown eyes bouncing from me, then to the child.
“I go to the bathroom for five minutes and you’re already making new friends?” She smiles politely at me, and I force one back. “Daddy said to stay inside, didn’t he?”
“Yes…” Sophia curves her neck up to look at the woman. “But I heard someone in the hallway and saw Iseult crying.”
“I was so not crying!” I twist my face with a scowl.
“Elsie and I were just having a dance party. Wanna join us?” Sophia’s face lights up at me, ignoring what I had just said.
So this is Michael’s wife. I haven’t had the chance to meet her since she arrived yesterday.
“A dance party? Me?” I shake my head, tight-lipped. “No. Not my thing. But thank you for the offer.”
But she ignores me. Again. Instead, she dashes toward me, her fluffy pink dress fluttering as she grabs my hand and pulls.
“Come on, just one dance,” she pleads. “You’ll see how fun it is, then you can leave.”
Her eyes twinkle, and she drops her head to her shoulder with a pout.
Oh my God. Does that actually work on people? I roll my eyes to myself.
But instead of staying firmly in place, I find my feet moving until I’m in her bedroom, my ears bleeding from girly pop music bathing in the distance. I much prefer eighties rock. Hell, I’ll take anything but this. Anything.
Sophia continues to drag me further into her room. A large canopy bed with a light pink comforter to my left, shelves with books and stuffed animals set neatly against one wall.
What the hell just happened and how did I end up here?
“How did she just do that?” I lean in and whisper to Elsie, who laughs softly just as Sophia drops my hand, wanders toward a cell phone, and changes songs.
“Magic,” she whispers.
It has to be, because there’s absolutely no way in hell I’d ever willingly agree to a dance party.
When I glance back at Elsie, she sighs as her tender eyes go to the girl who’s already twirling.
She loves her. It’s not her biological daughter, but to her, it clearly makes no difference at all.
That familiar gnawing hits my gut, and I instantly want to bolt. Seeing them together reminds me of all the years I missed out on with my own mother.
Maybe it’s better that she’s gone. She’s not here to see what kind of disappointment I’ve become. She’d barely recognize me.
“Dance with me!” Sophia says.
“Ugh.”
Elsie laughs at my dissatisfaction. “She’s not going to leave you alone until you agree to do whatever she says.”
“Great,” I mutter.
“Come on.” Elsie grabs my hand. “Let’s get crazy and forget our problems for a little while.”
I look to her, holding her stare. Does that even work?
The little girl squeals with excitement as we approach.
Once a new song starts, I kneel and grip Sophia’s shoulders. “Okay, kid, before we do this, you have to promise me something.”
“What?” Her eyes grow like I’m about to ask her to keep the biggest secret of her little life.
“You have to promise to never tell your uncle Gio I did this.”
She giggles. “Why?” She lifts a shoulder and gives me a knowing look. “Do you have a crush on him?”
My mouth parts and I quickly right myself, scratching at my temple. “I absolutely do not have a crush on him.” My eyes dart to Elsie who looks at me with amusement. “Would you two stop staring at me like that?”
“You’re blushing.” Elsie purses her lips to hide her smile.
“What?” I pat my cheeks with the backs of my fingers. “I don’t blush.”
Sophia giggles again. “Does Uncle Gio kiss you on the lips with tongue like Daddy kisses Elsie?”
“Nope! We are not doing this, kid.” I huff out. “You know what? Forget I said anything.” I fall back a step. “Tell him whatever you want, because your uncle and I are just friends. Actually…” I pause. “We’re not even friends. He’s so…”
I grit my teeth in frustration, throwing my hands in the air while Elsie’s gaze grows a fraction, probably thinking I’m insane. And clearly I am.
“You don’t like Uncle Gio?” Sophia gasps. “But he’s the best. He tells funny jokes, he takes me to the park, and he can eat more pizza than even Daddy.” She places both palms on her hips and inclines her chin like she’s about to fight me for insulting her dear uncle.
I seriously just entered the scariest room in this house.
“He sounds great.” I grin wide, hoping she leaves me alone and ceases this form of questioning. “But he’s supposed to marry my sister, so I kinda can’t be kissing him.”
Even though I want to all the fucking time, and it’s a major problem.
“But he doesn’t want to marry her,” Elsie challenges.
I level my attention on her as she goes on.
“Last I heard…” She pinches her lips. “He’s got a thing for someone else.”
Shit. She knows. Gio must’ve told Michael, who told her.
“Well, it doesn’t matter what he wants,” I retort. “This arrangement can’t be broken.”
“Why not?” she questions.
I laugh nervously, groaning under my breath. “Can we dance now?”
I grin at the girl, whose gaze zigzags between Elsie and me.
“I thought you don’t like to dance?” Sophia counters.
My God, this child.
“I changed my mind, ’kay?” I grab her hand just as an upbeat song plays.
That’s when Elsie joins us, increasing the volume until the sound pervades the space around us, until the questions have been forgotten. All three of us throw our hands in the air, jumping around, swaying side to side, our laughter filling the room.
And I get it now, what Elsie said. Because for a few minutes, I forget why today was such an awful day, and I have the most fun I’ve had in a while.
GIO
Never in a million years did I think my mother and Patrick fucking Quinn were in love when they were young.
Surprise, surprise.