Chapter 3

The pharmacy line was long.

I stood at the window holding my mother's chart, waiting for my number to be called.

She phoned while I waited.

"Don't worry about the medicine, sweetheart. My leg only hurts when it rains."

"I'll get it today."

She hesitated a long time before asking. "Is Nico busy lately?"

I tightened my grip on the chart. The corner bent under my fingers.

"Busy."

"Then don't fight with him. Every marriage has its bumps."

"The hotel last year was really fine, Mom. The mattress was even softer than home."

She was making excuses for him again. I didn't know what to say, so I told her to eat on time and hung up.

That's when I heard the familiar voice from the concierge exit across the lobby.

"Watch the step."

Dominic came through the private door with Carmela on his arm—one hand steadying her elbow, the other holding a thermos and a stack of medical reports. Sofia trailed close behind, gazing up at him with that look of helpless dependence she wore like perfume.

At the curb, Carmela let out a small groan.

Dominic bent down instantly. "Is it your knee again? I'll bring the car around. Don't move."

A security guard reminded him the emergency lane was no-parking. Dominic pulled a few hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and held them out.

"The lady's knees are bad. Two minutes."

The guard took the money. Didn't say another word.

Sofia spotted me first. "Elena, you're at the hospital too?"

Dominic turned. His eyes dropped to the chart in my hands, and his tone went flat.

"What's wrong with your mother now?"

"Picking up her medication."

He glanced at the pharmacy queue, brow furrowed. "Don't start comparing again. Carmela was really unwell today—that's why I brought her through the VIP."

"My mother broke her leg last year. Was she not really unwell?"

Irritation flickered across his face. "Can you stop putting an edge on every sentence? I really did have a sit-down that week."

Sofia shifted closer to her mother and said softly, "Nico, don't argue with Elena. If she's upset, let her take it out on me."

I looked at her. "You're not worth it."

Her chin dipped. She pressed her lips together and looked away.

Dominic stepped forward, half shielding her. "Elena, Sofia's always been sensitive. Don't be so aggressive."

I suddenly felt tired of all of it.

I used to be sensitive too. After the miscarriage, the sound of a stroller bell on the street below would keep me up all night. Dominic would close the window, pull me against his chest, and whisper, "Don't be scared. I'm here."

I'd believed, then, that I had been chosen. Firmly and finally.

Later he started telling me I was overthinking. Making mountains out of nothing. Making things hard for him.

The cruelest thing about having been loved is how long it takes to admit that someone's heart has already left the room.

I reached into my bag and found the Miraculous Medal.

Two years ago, Dominic was ambushed by a rival family. Shot in the shoulder. I drove to St. Patrick's Old Cathedral in Little Italy in the middle of the night and knelt before the statue of the Virgin until morning. I bought the medal at the church gift shop. By the time I got home it was four a.m. and my fingers were blue with cold.

Dominic had worn it around his neck for two years, the silver disc pressed against his heart.

A few months ago he said the chain didn't go with his new suits. Took it off and tossed it in the nightstand drawer.

It was never just the chain he'd discarded.

I dropped the medal into the trash can beside me. The lid swung shut with a soft clang.

Dominic's face went white. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Old things. No use anymore."

Carmela shook her head. "Nico, your wife has some temper. Throwing away a holy medal—what kind of woman does that?"

Dominic's phone rang. He turned away to answer, spoke briefly, then relayed the message without looking at me.

"Mamma wants us at the house for Sunday dinner. She says to bring Sofia and Carmela." A pause. "And you, if you're coming."

If you're coming. The ordering said everything.

My own phone vibrated. A flight confirmation from Savannah. Tomorrow evening, seven forty-five.

I tapped confirm.

Behind me, Dominic's impatient voice: "Did you hear me? Don't be late tonight. Mamma hates waiting."

The pharmacy called my number.

While I waited for the prescription bag, I pulled up my messages and texted Gianna.

【File the petition. I'll sign when I get home.】

This dinner would be my last.