Chapter Twenty-Nine
BEC
Istared out of Rome's bedroom window. I wasn’t sure what day it was, let alone the month—time had ceased to exist in a world without Rome.
Grief was a fascinating journey. I waffled between depression and denial, but didn’t believe I would ever reach acceptance.
Lucia sat next to me on his bed, reading through letters Rome had sent his family while he was deployed.
She pointed to a line. I could barely make out the words; his handwriting was atrocious, but oh so him. “He always talked about his friends throughout these, never himself.”
I smiled softly, “He was subtly selfless.”
Lucia nodded, “Just like his father.”
“How did you survive that? Losing Romeo?” I asked.
Lucia sighed, her head falling against the headboard softly.
She was an incredibly strong woman. We spent many of the days together, and she kept me briefly distracted from my grief with her stories.
She had immigrated here with her first husband, Romeo, against all of her family’s wishes.
While she eventually reconciled with her family, during the first decade of living here, she was on her own.
Lucia hadn’t meant to get pregnant, but when she did, she knew that Rome was sent to make her life a little brighter. Her little light, as she called him.
“Rome. I survived because of him,” she answered sadly. “I couldn’t drown in my grief, because he needed me. He was just a little boy who had lost part of his world and was too young to understand. I survived losing his father, because I had him.”
I felt a tear slide down my cheek slowly, my heart breaking at her words, “How do we survive now… without him?”
Lucia took my hand in hers and held it tightly. “We survive for him, piccina. We wake up each day and spread the light he would have, for him.”
Mateo then stuck his head through the cracked door. “You have a visitor.”
I sat up slightly as Alexandra made her way into the room. She had been on the other side of the country for the last month. She had called every day, but it didn’t make up for her physical absence. Seeing her here, in Rome’s room, caused me to instantly break down.
“Alex,” I cried, and she closed the distance between us, sitting on the bed with Lucia and me… wrapping me in her arms.
“Shhh,” she murmured. “I know it hurts. I’m so sorry, Bec.”
We sat there for a while as I cried in my best friend's arms.
2 Months Gone, December 11th
They had never found his body.
Andi had led the police to where she claimed Rome had been shot.
According to her official statement, after they were taken in the car, the two were drugged.
She awoke, tied up in the back of a van.
Rome was unconscious next to her as their captor pulled her out and deposited her in the corner of the warehouse.
Her captor was masked, and she claimed that he told her she was simply collateral damage.
She stayed, forgotten in that corner, as Rome awoke, and she witnessed his death.
Her captor fled after Rome was shot. This gave Andi the chance to run as well, after getting herself untied. That was all of the story I could bear to listen to. I did see where he was shot. I had to in order to believe it. They had tested the blood, and every last drop belonged to Rome.
No one could have survived after losing the amount of blood that was found… not even him.
People were investigating. At least, I assumed they were. I didn’t care anymore. None of it mattered. After it was announced that Rome couldn’t have survived that blood loss, I completely checked out. The people responsible were still out there, but Rome wasn’t.
It had been two months since Rome had died, and none of us were able to move on. We didn’t have any form of closure, and it was hitting Rome’s family the hardest.
My heart broke for Lucia. They were burying an empty casket next to Rome’s father.
We had waited a month, hoping to find anything, and then we waited another.
There was hope that by some miracle, Rome was alive out there.
That he would pop out of the shadows with that smirk of his.
But it was time to put Rome to rest, to give us all some closure.
There wasn’t a traditional funeral. They were, instead, planning a celebration for what should have been his birthday in a few weeks. Today was simply a graveside service, and what was supposed to be a small gathering at the family’s restaurant afterward.
More people than expected were in attendance.
Rome had made an impact on the world that I had never quite understood the gravity of.
Every person here recognized the light he had held within.
They had all come, wanting to honor his life and his legacy.
It ranged from old army buddies to school classmates, and there was even a group of women that I couldn’t help but assume were his scorned lovers that he used to joke about.
It had rained last night, leaving dew on top of the grass surrounding us. It was seeping through my pantyhose and into my skin, chilling me from the outside in. Not that it mattered anymore. All the warmth had left me when Rome did.
I was angry with him. Which was ridiculous, but it was better than the never-ending grief that was drowning me each day.
I was angry that he had shown me how good life could be, how to add color back to my black and white world.
He had shown me happiness, and then disappeared… taking all of the color with him.
Alexandra sat on one side of me and Malachi on the other, dressed in his army blues…
his hand clasped in mine. We were the outsiders here, sitting next to Rome’s family.
Malachi’s wife couldn’t come as their newborn baby was too young to fly, but she had shipped his clothes for the funeral, along with photos of him and Rome to share with the family.
I had gone through each and every one, memorizing these little glimpses of Rome throughout his years in the Army.
It was the years that Rome didn’t talk about because of his PTSD.
But, discussing them with Malachi had given me the chance to finally learn something new about him.
Malachi wasn’t much of a talker—the exact opposite of Rome—but I could see why they were best friends. They balanced each other. It was humorous how similar Malachi and I were. Rome would have called us ‘grumpy assholes’.
Malachi was processing his own grief, accepting that his best friend was gone before they were able to fully mend the rift between them.
He was helping with the nightmares. I hadn’t left the Romano’s, still sleeping in Rome’s bed every night, always wearing his clothes because it made it hurt a little less.
Not that I slept. My nights were bombarded by images of Rome and the pain he must have suffered in those final moments.
With where Andi said he was hit, his death wasn’t immediate.
He had lain there… alone, bleeding out, wondering if we were coming.
I had hope that he knew how hard we were looking for him, how we still hadn’t given up.
It was those nightmares that had me waking up in screams most nights. Malachi, who had started by sleeping on Lucia’s couch, had moved to Rome’s floor to help snap me back into reality.
I wasn’t sure if my dad was behind Rome’s death, though that was the most likely scenario, but if he was, he had gotten away with it.
The police had interviewed him and were still investigating, but they had no evidence to charge him officially.
Without Rome’s body, every investigation was at a standstill.
I had a private team looking into it, the police were looking into it, as was Malachi, but no one could find the answers we so desperately needed.
I hadn’t spoken to my father since. I couldn’t face him, knowing he was probably getting away with murder.
It had been weeks of expertly avoiding him, though it wasn't too difficult. I hadn’t been to work since that fateful day.
I couldn’t think about spreadsheets and stocks while mourning the man who made life worth living.
Our stocks were tanking due to reported instability.
My probationary period was up in just a couple of weeks, and I didn’t care what the board decided. None of it mattered anymore.
The army taps played through the cool air, harmonized by the sounds of tears and heartache from all those who had loved Rome.
The flag was folded with expert precision, each movement solidifying this new reality. A reality without Rome Cipriani. It was finally handed off to Lucia, who collapsed onto the flag as she held it tightly to her chest.
She had already cleared off the mantle where she had picked out a spot for it.
It would live beside Rome’s father’s flag…
the one he had kept in his bedroom. The two would be a testament to Rome’s life that he had dedicated to his father.
She wanted it to be seen and to be remembered.
Rome’s life may have ended… but his legacy had not.
Malachi squeezed my hand and helped me stand.
I hadn’t been fully cognizant of my surroundings for weeks, lost in my own world.
The only times I felt truly present were when I was helping Malachi and Mateo comb through Rome’s finances.
There I could be useful. My undergraduate degree was in accounting, and I had spent years as a CFO.
Helping with the finances gave me a sense of control.
Rome had been sending most of his paycheck to his mother over the years.
It was helping to support his family, helping with the bills when things at the restaurant got tight, and building interest in trusts he had set up for each of his sisters.
I had added hefty sums into each, wanting to do anything I could to help his family, like they had helped me.