Chapter 25
EMILIA
Standing at the window, I didn't care that the cold was seeping through the glass.
The compound was bathed in moonlight, snow falling in fat, lazy flakes that caught the security lights.
My eyes were locked on the taillights of vehicles leaving the compound, red beacons disappearing into the December night.
"You can't stand there all night." Cecilia walked up behind me and put her hands on my shoulders.
"You'll make yourself crazy waiting." She turned me from the window, and I nodded.
It was something I'd never seen my mother do. She was more or less indifferent to my father, but I would have been, too, if I'd been treated the way she had been.
"Okay. This tree is pathetic," Trixie said as she set a large cardboard box on the coffee table.
The massive evergreen in the corner was bare, with naked branches waiting to be dressed.
"These were still in the basement, and we've got nothing but time.
" She put her hands on her hips and looked at her mother and me.
"Where's Loz? There's more boxes down there." She looked around and walked out of the room looking for him.
"I really should warn him so he can hide," Cecilia chuckled as she opened the box and pulled out a stack of stockings. The scent of cedar and old fabric filled the air. "So many people are gone," she sighed.
She set them aside, and I watched her eyes fill with tears as she looked at them again. "Just because they're gone doesn't mean we forget them. What if we hang them on the stairs?" I reached out and took the one off the top. The velvet was soft, well-worn.
The name on the top read Constantine. Nico's father. Without another thought, I grabbed the hook, walked to the stairs, and hung it up. "Could you tell me about them as we hang them?"
Cecilia moved to my side, the firelight casting shadows across her face. "Nico looks like his father; sometimes it's uncanny." The corners of her mouth turned up. "We married the day week we met.”
"What?" I couldn't even hide my shock.
"Time was of the essence, because my family was after me. So I do know a little of what you're going through." She put her arm around my shoulders. I listened to her story as I grabbed the next stocking with Dante written on it.
Handing it to Cecilia, she ran her hand over the name.
"Nico's grandfather, my father-in-law." Her eyes glistened again as she hung it.
"He was fierce, but frail when I met him.
Cancer was wracking his body, but you could tell even though Constantine was technically the don, he was still running the family. "
Time passed quickly as I ran up and down the stairs hanging the stockings and listening to her tell stories.
While I'd never meet any of these people in person, I felt like I knew who they were thanks to Cecilia.
The house was beginning to feel like Christmas, the stockings creating a memorial of love and loss.
"Mom, that looks amazing," Trixie said as she walked back into the room with another box. Garland spilled over the edges, silver tinsel catching the light. She set it down and put her arm around her mother.
"Lorenzo, would you like to hang Aria's?" Cecilia held out the final stocking to the man she loved. He nodded but didn't say anything. Standing in front of it, I saw him reach up and wipe a tear from his eye.
"You're missed, darling." He said as he pressed his hand to the red stocking. "What's next?" He asked as he cleared his throat.
We all took turns hanging stockings for everyone in our home. I hung Nico's and stood staring at it, my fingers tracing the embroidered letters. "Hang this one next to his." I was handed a stocking and hung it before noticing the name.
"You have one for me?" I asked my words breathless.
"Of course, you're part of this family." Trixie flung her arm around me. "Look, I get your family kind of sucks, but you'll always have a place for you here. And we've decided if you divorce Nico, we're keeping you and kicking him out." She added as seriously as could be.
A bubble of laughter worked its way out of me, and I hugged the woman who'd quickly become my best friend and confidant.
With the main floor looking like Christmas had thrown up on it, we smiled and happily drank our spiked hot cocoa as the fire blazed before us, the snapping and popping the only sounds in the room.
The tree was now covered in ornaments, gold and silver and red, lights twinkling like stars.
Garland draped the mantle, stockings lined the stairs, and candles flickered on every surface.
It was magical, warm, everything Christmas should be.
This evening had done the trick of occupying my mind, but now in the quiet, I glanced at the windows every few seconds.
"Love take me to bed," Cecilia said, patting Lorenzo's leg.
"Gladly." He replied, standing and pulling Nico's mother off the sofa. "If you need anything, Emilia, don't hesitate to come get me." His eyes bore into mine, and I nodded.
Trixie yawned, and I looked over to her. "You don't have to babysit me. Go to bed."
"No, I need to keep you company," her mumbling words made me roll my eyes. She let her head fall back and closed her eyes again.
"You won't be much company when all you're going to do is snore. I'm serious, I'm fine. Go to bed." I pointed at the stairs, and she nodded.
Reaching for my phone, I checked the messages, but there was nothing. Sighing, I opened the reading app, but even a cowboy romance book couldn't keep my thoughts from drifting to the mafia boss I was in love with.
Tossing my phone down on the sofa, I wandered into the kitchen. This place was a baker’s dream come true. Rifling through the cupboards, I smiled as I looked at the pile of ingredients before me. Chocolate chip cookies would be the perfect way to keep my mind occupied.
As if on autopilot, I added ingredients, mixed the cookies, and placed them on the cookie sheet, making sure I had enough dough left over to drown my sorrows while I waited for them to bake in the oven. The scent of vanilla and butter filled the kitchen, comforting and warm.
I didn't have to bake one batch at a time; the four ovens in this place let me get it done quickly. So quickly, I realized that not much time had passed. Dipping my spoon into the mixing bowl, I grabbed a scoop of the raw cookie dough and set out to figure out what I could make next.
Preferably something that would take longer, maybe something that didn't taste just as good raw as cooked. And something I could make in my sleep.
Pulling the bag of flour out of the drawer, I set it on the counter with a thud and set to work on the one thing I could take my aggression out on. Bread. Kneading dough until my arms ached seemed like exactly what I needed.
"Oh my dear, I saw the light on, and I thought I forgot to turn it off." Camilla walked into the kitchen and looked around. Flour dusted every surface, mixing bowls stacked in the sink, the air heavy with the smell of baking.
"I promise I will clean up when I'm done." I looked at her, and I watched her eyes scan my body. The slight frown on her face let me know I must look like a walking snowman. Flour covered my borrowed sweater, streaked my face.
"I trust you will, dear. I will leave you to it. Goodnight." She said, reaching out to grab one of the cooling cookies. "These are wonderful," she exclaimed, and as quickly as she'd arrived, she was gone again.
Clapping my hands over the sink, I grabbed a bowl off the oven door and wiped the flour down the front of myself before reaching out and turning on the water to wash my dishes.
Glancing at the clock, I worried that this was taking so long.
These small families shouldn't have put up much of a fight for Nico and his army of men, but why wasn't he back yet?
The kitchen smelled like Christmas, cinnamon and sugar and warmth, but all I felt was cold dread.