41. Olivia
OLIVIA
I stand in the courtyard,wishing the speed of time would increase so I could return home and stop pretending I’m holding my shit together when the truth is I’m the slightest nudge from mental breakdown.
I’m surprised I didn’t succumb at the sight of Remy.
I force a smile as the afternoon sun warms my back and well-wishers form a line in front of me to pay their respects.
I’ve seen the tradition play out a million times. I even stood at my father’s side for the very same procession after my mother’s funeral.
But I never imagined the brutally hollow ache of doing it alone.
Distant relatives I haven’t seen in years put their hands on me, offering hugs as if the embrace brings reassurance instead of uncomfortable contact.
Strangers exude pained grimaces and murmur numbing platitudes.
Then Lorenzo hobbles toward me, his walking stick lightly thudding against the cement on his approach.
I swallow, unsure if he’s going to provide the final blow to my composure.
“Mia cara ragazza.” His mouth kicks in a sad smile.
I’m not sure what the greeting means. It could be a threat. A taunt. Who knows? But it sounds nice, and his eyes offer fatherly kindness I wish I didn’t pine for.
“My sincerest condolences.” He leans the walking aid against his hip and takes my hands. “Please know that the family stands by you in this time of loss. Whatever you need is yours. You only have to ask.”
I nod, blinking back the burn. “Thank you. I received the food baskets you sent. They were appreciated.” At least for the few minutes the contents stayed in my stomach before being ejected into the toilet.
“How are you holding up?” he asks.
I clear my throat, unsure if anyone seriously expects me to answer that with honesty. “I’m doing okay.” I glance away, hating the vulnerability that edges its way up my arms. “We all know it takes time.”
My gaze pauses on Remy resting against the building yards away, his foot kicked back against the brickwork, his eyes on mine.
My pulse falters, my heart breaking out in a mass of agonizing beats.
He’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
“Did you hear what I said, Olivia?” Lorenzo asks.
“I’m sorry.” I blink back to the conversation. “What did you say?”
Lorenzo glances over his shoulder, tracing the path to where my attention had been. “You know he mourns for you as much as he does for your father.” His kind expression returns to mine. “That boy has lost himself to you.”
No. No. No. No. No.
Focus.
Breathe.
Relax.
I swallow the emotion-fueled bile that thickens at the back of my throat. “I’m glad he came” is all I can reply.
It’s the truth.
Dad would’ve wanted him here.
I want him here. Well, I did, then I didn’t, and then I did again.
My head is such a mess.
I lean forward, offering Lorenzo an awkward hug in the hopes of sending him on his way. “Thank you for your support. Maybe we’ll talk again later.”
“Of that I’m certain.” He returns the embrace with one arm, then hobbles away, leaving Salvatore to approach.
The formidable man stares at me, then peers over his shoulder to Remy who pushes from the building, his brows creased in a severe frown. He seems poised to storm over here at any moment.
Please do.
“He’s trying to kill me with his eyes,” Salvo mutters. “I wonder if he knows he’s not a Jedi.”
My lips twitch with legitimate humor. “If only.”
He snickers. “It’d take more than that to end me.”
“I assumed as much.” I keep my voice low, not wanting to destabilize the nausea.
His humor fades, his dark eyes gaining a surprising hint of hardened compassion. “Losing a parent is difficult. I assume it’s even worse if they were worthy of the role. So my thoughts are with you, Liv. And like Lorenzo said, if you need anything, you’ll be taken care of—in the near future and as the years pass.”
I don’t acknowledge the offer.
I pretend it doesn’t exist.
I will not cling to comfort from Salvatore Costa. I’m not that unhinged.
“Now I’m choosing to retreat slowly.” He backs away a step. “No sudden movement in case my brother has an itchy trigger finger.”
My lips twitch again, and the warmth that invades my cold sterility at the thought of Remy’s protection becomes a solace I yearn to drown in.
I glance back to where he stood against the building, no longer finding him there. I scan the courtyard, anxious at the thought of him leaving before we can talk.
“I’m so sorry, Olivia,” an elderly voice offers.
I jolt against another unwelcome hug.
It’s one of twelve more I receive until the line of mourners is gone, the crowd already moving on to the wake room for coffee and cake while I’m left to stand staring at my shoes.
If I was strong enough, I’d pull my father’s letter from my blazer pocket to read his final words again, because apparently the three hundred and fifty-five thousand times I’ve already done it haven’t been enough.
But reading his words is the only time I don’t feel alone.
Completely isolated.
There’s no Mom. No Dad. No Remy.
Footsteps approach and I tense, wondering if I’ve willed the keeper of my heart to come find me.
We need to talk. There are things I have to say.
“Liv,” a male voice greets.
I raise my gaze to the man coming to stand before me. “Hugo.” My voice is full of surprise, but I suppose it shouldn’t be. He worked with my father for months before he was fired. “Thank you for coming.”
He scoffs. “It wasn’t for your benefit. I’m actually surprised you haven’t had me escorted off premises.”
I cringe. “We’ve had our differences but?—”
“We’ve had more than differences. You cost me the only good job I’ve ever had. I’ve been unemployed for months. I lost my fucking apartment because I couldn’t pay rent.”
The brain fog I’ve been in for days doesn’t lessen. I’m devoid of words, unable to come up with something to fill the uncomfortable pause.
“Don’t worry, Liv. I have a feeling I’m about to have a stroke of good fortune.”
There’s something conniving in his tone. The sound of it sends dread slithering down my spine.
“I’m sorry, Hugo, but can we discuss this later? My stomach is unsettled and?—”
“I suggest you remain right where you are.” He steps closer, leaning into my personal space. “We’ve got a lot to discuss about my unlawful dismissal, and something tells me it has a lot to do with the shady characters that seemed right at home at your father’s funeral.”