28. In Too Deep #2
“No, Mamma. It’s not Vinny.” His whole body tensed as she spoke, and he exhaled a shuddering breath. “It’s me, Sani. Santino. Your son.”
She screamed so loudly down the phone that I heard her. “No! You’re lying! That’s not possible. My baby boy is upstairs in his cot! Vinny! Where is Vinny?”
I couldn’t understand what was happening, but whatever it was had Santino trembling with emotion.
“Mamma, please. You need to calm down, okay?”
“Stop calling me that! You’re not my son. Who are you? Where is Vinny? He should have been home an hour ago.”
It clicked. The knowledge I had from recognising and managing patients with dementia in hospital was enough for me to spot the signs. She was reliving a memory, another time. And when that happened, you should never try to pull that person back to reality. It only caused more anxiety and distress.
“Can I speak to her?” I asked quickly, which made Santino frown at me and shake his head.
He covered the phone. “She’s not well. She has—”
“Dementia?”
He nodded.
“I think I can help. Please?”
He regarded me carefully, then passed me the phone. I took a deep breath and put her on loudspeaker so Santino could hear.
“Is this Cecilia? Cecilia Buccini?”
“Si. Who is this? Who are you?”
“My name is… Quinn,” I said calmly, using my mother’s name because it was the first thing that popped into my head.
“I’m a waitress at the restaurant where your husband is dining this evening.
Vincenzo Buccini? I’m calling on his behalf.
He’s currently in a meeting and wanted me to let you know it’s running longer than expected. ”
“Oh,” she gasped, letting out a shuddering breath. “Can I speak with him? Is he busy?”
My eyes snapped to Sani’s, but I could tell from the pain in his expression that this was too much for him. I couldn’t ask him to pretend to be his dead father.
“Si. He is busy. But I am happy to help if I can.”
“I—I didn’t know where he was.”
“You seem worried. It’s okay, Cecilia. He’s in a meeting.”
She exhaled again, calming down. “Okay. Grazie. I don’t like being alone in the house. I can’t sleep without him.”
Sani covered his mouth with his hand and looked away into the distance, fighting back his emotions.
“I understand, but you’re not alone. I’m here on the phone with you. Why don’t you go back to bed and get some rest?”
“Okay,” she agreed, and I could hear her moving. “Will you tell him I love him and not to stay out too late? I worry.”
“Of course,” I choked, then pressed my lips together. “Would you like me to stay on the phone with you for a while?”
“No, no.” She yawned. “I’ll go to sleep. It’s late. Thank you for calling.”
“You’re welcome. Goodnight, Cecilia.”
I hung up the phone, and Santino stared at me with an unreadable expression. I couldn’t tell whether he was angry, shocked, or completely and utterly devastated.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped—”
“How did you know to do that?”
I placed his phone back on the table. “I’ve seen many dementia patients at work, and one thing I always remember the doctors telling us is that if they are trapped in the past, their brain can’t access the present.
Forcing it on them only causes more distress and escalation.
They need to feel emotionally safe. You have to meet them where they are, rather than where you want them to be. ”
He swallowed, staring at me, then swore, running a hand down his face. “I don’t know how to handle this, Aria. She thought I was my papi. Going along with it felt cruel.”
I put my hand on his thigh and squeezed. “I can’t imagine how hard this is. But don’t see it as lying to her; you’re just protecting her nervous system and giving her a sense of security until it fades naturally.”
He rubbed his eyes with his fingers and placed his other hand over mine, gripping it against his thigh. “I hate how helpless it makes me feel. Thank you, though, for doing that. You calmed her down so quickly.”
I wanted to reach for him, to run my hand along his cheek and comfort him.
I wanted to kiss him and make him forget the pain he was burdened with.
He looked so damn human. So vulnerable. Regardless of who he was or what he did, this was the real him, the person who loved his family and hated seeing them hurt.
His phone rang again, Raya’s name flashing on the screen. “I’d better take this. Raya was upset when she called. Mamma didn’t recognise her and was screaming at her to get out of the house. Gio and Liv were out at an event, so she’s home alone with the nurse my Mamma hates.”
I let go of his leg and stood up. “I’ll go to the bar and get another drink. Give you some privacy to talk to her.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I think your sister would prefer it.” Soraya didn’t seem the type to open up to strangers, and if she knew I was sitting beside him, she might have held back when she needed to talk. He nodded, and I gave him a small smile. I was about to walk away when he grabbed my hand, halting me.
“Hey. Thank you,” he whispered, then turned my wrist and kissed the inside. My heart lurched, and a swarm of butterflies charged through my stomach. He let go and answered the call.
I stood at the bar, waiting for the server to notice me, and let out a deep breath to shake off the intense feelings.
They felt new, unfamiliar, and absolutely terrifying.
The reality was, I cared about him. I couldn’t pretend it was merely sexual chemistry or physical attraction anymore.
It was more. I liked him. A lot. More than I’d liked any man, possibly ever.
“Aria?”
My head whipped to the left, and my mouth dropped open when I saw the last person I expected to see. In fact, I’d hoped I’d never see his face again. My most recent ex-boyfriend, from three weeks ago, had just strolled past me with his arm slung over some leggy blonde’s shoulders.
“Orlando.” I gave him a curt greeting, then turned back to the bar, praying the bartender would come my way and save me from having to make small talk with the cheating bastard.
“How are you? You look amazing.” His brown eyes ran down my dress in a way I used to appreciate, but now it made my veins heat with fire because the last time I saw him, he’d tried to gaslight me into believing the red thong I’d found between his sofa cushions was mine.
I briefly wondered whether this was the girl it belonged to, but I found I really didn’t care.
His obvious ogling didn’t go unnoticed by her, and she scowled at me as if I were the one in the wrong.
“Let’s not do this, Orlando. Have a good night.”
He dropped his arm from his date and told her he’d meet her outside. I rolled my eyes as he came to stand beside me.
“Aria, come on. Don’t be like that. I tried calling you so many times.”
“I blocked your number. So if it still isn’t clear enough, please fuck off.”
He smiled, leaning an elbow on the bar, devouring me with his eyes. “I miss you. Why don’t I ditch my date and we get a drink and talk—”
Orlando’s words were silenced by the enormous arm that slid around my waist, pulling me possessively into a solid wall of muscle. I glanced up at Santino’s face, his jaw clenched, eyes burning, and nostrils flaring.
“Mia moglie. Is this man bothering you?”
“Wife?” Orlando’s pupils blew wide, and then he glanced down at my hand, noticing the ring. “How is that possible?”
“I said I do. That’s how it’s possible. Now leave, Orlando.”
I caught the subtle shift in Santino beside me, the way his eerie stillness thickened and coiled into something vicious.
Whatever patience he had left from tonight was bleeding out of him by the second.
As much as he was a dick, Orlando didn’t deserve a death sentence, and that was where this was heading by the look in Sani’s eyes.
“We broke up three weeks ago. And now you’re married?” He barked a humourless laugh. “Cristo, you gave me so much shit for fucking around. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one,” he accused, seemingly oblivious to the threat standing right in front of him.
Santino’s glare slid over him slowly. “You’re the asshole who cheated on her.”
It wasn’t a question but a judgement. And it was enough to snap Orlando back to his senses and make him finally notice the rage vibrating from my husband. All the colour drained from his face.
“Orlando. Leave. Please,” I was begging because the last thing we needed was a scene in a very public setting.
He twisted away, scurrying out of the restaurant like a rat running from the rain.
I stepped in front of Sani, pressing my palms to his chest. His heart was slamming against them, as if trying to break free, and his deep brown eyes took on obsidian flecks as they locked onto the exit Orlando had just bolted through.
I swallowed thickly as the angles of his face had sharpened with barely restrained fury.
I watched him slip into the darkness before my eyes, ready to detonate.
“Santino,” I warned, lifting my hand to his face to force his gaze away from the exit. “Sani, look at me.”
He didn’t. He stormed past me. Shit. I grabbed my handbag from the bar and raced after him, trying to keep up with his long strides in my heels. He was outside, marching down the street, before I reached the door.
“Signora Buccini, don’t forget your coat,” the server shouted, but I ignored him.
I burst through the door just in time to see Santino grab Orlando by the collar and slam him against a brick wall, a crack echoing down the quiet street.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I ran, yelling his name as Santino’s fist flew into Orlando’s cheek, snapping his face sideways while his date screamed hysterically behind them.
“What the fuck, man—”