21. Sarah
Sarah
“Thank you, Sofia,” I say, hugging the three containers of leftovers against my chest as Luca and I head for the front door.
She waves a dismissive hand.
“Nonsense. You eat that. Don’t let my son touch any of it. You need more meat on those bones.”
I laugh.
Before I can protest, Luca takes the containers from me and slides his hand to my lower back.
“Alright, Ma,” he says. “We’ll see you in a few weeks.”
“Drive safely!”
“We will,” I call.
He bends toward my ear. “Keep talking to her and we’ll still be standing in this driveway tomorrow.”
I bump his arm with my shoulder.
“Stop.”
Once we’re back in the car and on the road, he laces his fingers with mine.
“Ma is going to try feeding you for the rest of her life.”
Something warm settles in my chest.
“You think I’ll be around that long?”
He looks over, one corner of his mouth lifting.
“I wasn’t aware that was negotiable.”
“I love you,” I say, squeezing his hand.
He winks at me. “Always, Baby Girl.”
As we’re getting ready for bed, my thoughts drift back to Sofia.
Taking care of people seems to come as naturally to her as breathing.
Luca’s told me his dad died when he was five.
Carmela was just a teenager. Sofia had to navigate unimaginable grief while raising two children on her own, yet she never seems hardened by any of it.
She still welcomes people with warm meals, packed leftovers, and enough love to make you feel like family before you’ve even finished dinner.
Luca comes in from the bathroom.
“Want me to grab your water?”
“I’m okay.”
“Take your medicine?”
“Yes.”
He studies me for a second.
“You sure?”
I pat the mattress beside me.
“The only thing I’m missing is you.”
He gets onto the bed and rests against the headboard, his hand finding my thigh.
“Tomorrow’s your sleepover with Katie?”
“Yeah.”
“Nervous?”
I let out a slow breath.
“Terrified. I hate lying to her. Every conversation feels wrong because I know something that could change her entire life. She loves Michael so completely, but she only knows one side of him. I don’t know if she’ll be able to reconcile that man with the one who orders people killed.”
“We both know he’s more than that.”
“I know, but Katie’s different. Losing her mom was heartbreaking enough. One day she’s going to discover that the man she trusts most has been keeping something this enormous from her. It feels like too much for one person.”
I pause.
“Luca, I’m really scared that I’m doing the wrong thing by not telling her myself.”
“Baby Girl...”
“I know. I know. But what’s going to happen when she finds out I knew?”
“Katie knows your heart. When the anger fades, that’s what she’ll remember.”
I don’t know how he can believe that so easily.
He pulls me against him, his arm looped around my shoulders. His hand comes up to cradle my cheek, and he presses a gentle kiss to the temple closest to him.
“Let’s go to bed, okay?”
I shake my head.
“I’m not really tired.”
“I know a pretty effective bedtime routine.”
I push him away.
“That’s not what I had in mind.”
He throws his hands up in mock innocence.
“Fine. Deprive me.”
I snort.
“Please. You are the most satisfied man in Los Angeles.”
He grins.
“Very true.”
“Anyway,” I drag out out the word, and he laughs. “I was actually hoping you could tell me a little about your dad.”
“Oh,” he says, shifting to look at me. “I mean, there isn’t much to tell. He died when I was five. I don’t remember a lot.”
“I know, but must have heard stories, right?”
“Yeah.” He nods, slowly. “What’s this about, Baby Girl?”
“I guess...” I glance down at our hands. “Watching your mom made me curious. She’s one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. It made me wonder what kind of man she loved.”
He takes my hand in his.
“To a little kid, my dad was a superhero. He wore nice suits. He carried a gun. He said things like, ‘Forget about it,’ in that thick Italian accent of his. He kissed Ma every chance he got. He made sure Carmela knew never to settle for some idiot, and he always told me, ‘Luca, you treat every girl you meet with respect.’”
I smile.
“He was everything to us. He loved us like we were the most important thing in the world.”
“That’s because you were.”
He doesn’t answer straight away.
His thumb drifts back and forth over my hand before he looks away, his jaw tightening.
“Sometimes, I wonder,” he says quietly.
I frown.
“Why would you say that?”
He lets out a long breath through his nose before giving a small shake of his head.
“Pop was in the life, just like me. Just like the rest of the family.” His eyes remain fixed somewhere across the room. “He was Uncle Dante’s most trusted man.”
“Dante,” I say. “That’s Michael’s dad?”
“Mm-hm.” He nods. “Everyone always says they were inseparable. Everywhere Dante went, Pop wasn’t far behind. They trusted each other with everything.”
He pauses again.
“Pop was only a year younger than Dante. They both got married young. Aunt Catarina had Mikey, and then Ma had Carmela.”
His thumb brushes over my knuckles.
“They both worked under my Nonnu. He ran the family until he died right before I was born.” He pauses. “After that, Uncle Dante took over. He was the oldest, so it was always going to be him.”
I squeeze his hand a little tighter, but I don’t say anything.
“Anyway,” he says quietly, “I remember that before Pop died, he wasn’t home as often.”
His thumb continues its slow path across the back of my hand.
“Ma would put me to bed, kiss me goodnight, and tell me to stay there. Then she’d go sit in the living room and wait for him.”
I picture Sofia sitting alone in the dark, watching the clock.
“How would you know that?”
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Because I was nosy.” He lets out a soft laugh. “I’d sneak down the hallway and peek around the corner when she thought I was asleep.”
“Carmela caught me once. I thought she was going to drag me back to bed and rat me out.” He shakes his head. “Instead, she sat down beside me against the wall.”
His smile fades.
“We waited together until Pop finally walked through the front door. Ma was beside herself that night.”
I squeeze his hand.
His throat bobs.
“I don’t remember what they said. I was too young.” He looks down at our hands. “I remember Carmela taking my hand, leading me to her room, and letting me sleep with her that night.”
He looks over at me.
“The next night, he was gone.”
Silence settles between us.
He doesn’t look away, but I can almost see him somewhere else.
“I found out later he took a job.” His jaw tightens. “One he had no business taking. The odds were against them from the start, and he went anyway.”
He shakes his head.
“He thought they were taking territory from a rival family.”
His voice is quiet now.
“The Amatos weren’t as powerful back then. They walked into a shootout.” He swallows. “Pop never came home.”
He looks down at our joined hands.
“He left Ma to raise two kids by herself.”
“Luca…”
“Uncle Dante had no idea Pop had even taken the job.” His gaze drifts across the room. “If he’d known, he would’ve stopped him.”
He’s quiet for a moment.
“Instead, somebody showed up to tell him his little brother wasn’t coming home.”
His expression hardens.
“Uncle Dante declared war.”
He pauses.
“Hit after hit. Week after week. Every time the other family thought they’d caught their breath, another one of their men turned up dead.”
His gaze stays fixed ahead.
“By the end of it, there wasn’t anyone left with enough power to stand against the Amatos.”
He exhales.
“Uncle Dante took the territory.”
I lay my head on his shoulder.
“If Pop hadn’t gone. If he had come home.” He shakes his head. “He’d probably still be alive today.”
“I’m sorry, Luca. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He lifts my head and gently turns my chin toward him.
“Don’t. I’ve wanted to tell you that for a long time. It’s hard talking about him.” He smiles sadly. “After he died, everything changed. Ma raised us alone. Carmela had to grow up too fast, and so did I.”
His eyes fill.
“I always wanted to be like Pop.” He swallows hard. “There are days I wonder if that’s something I should be proud of.”
“Don’t think like that.”
He lets out a humorless laugh. “Baby Girl, I’m a criminal.”
“You’re also a son. A brother. An uncle.” I cup his face. “The love of my life. None of those things disappear because of the life you live.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“And you’re good.”
“You’ve got terrible judgment,” he says with a grin.
He can call himself a criminal all he wants.
That’s not the man I know. I know the man who laughs with his whole chest, spoils every child in his family, and tells his sister she’s beautiful because he wants her to remember it.
I know the son who never lets his mother carry a burden alone.
I know the man who loves me so completely that I’ve never once questioned where I stand with him.
Whatever he does outside these walls doesn’t erase any of that.
Luca Amato is good, and I’ve known it since long before I knew the truth about what he does.