Fidelity (Infidelity #5)(32)

IT HAD BEEN years since I’d stepped foot in the master suite at Rye. I know that sounds crazy. I didn’t sell the house after Jo died. I couldn’t. It was my mother’s. She loved this house. I had to separate myself from my loss.

I stayed away. I avoided my childhood home like it was the plague. In my mind it’d killed not only my mother but my wife too. For all practical purposes I gave it to Silvia. She deserved it more than me. She cared for it and honored it. I probably wouldn’t be here now, nor would Oren or Adelaide or Charli, if Silvia had taken me up on the offer I made her.

Despite what I knew would become an argument with Oren, I had the deed ready to sign over to Silvia. Everything was there except my signature. Deloris was the one who convinced me to take the paperwork to Rye, sit down with Silvia, and let her know that the house was hers. I was ready to do it from New York City and forget about it.

The conversation that ensued was one that only siblings can appreciate. Charli called Chelsea her sister. Silvia was mine. Fuck blood. Siblings weren’t defined by blood, but by life, by triumphs and heartbreaks. My mother had told me that Silvia came to live with us because she needed a family. I don’t think I really appreciated that until I needed one too.

With my mother and wife gone and father halfway around the fucking world, I made an interesting discovery the day I came back to Rye. I learned that Silvia shared my loss. My mom was like her mom. My wife had been like her sister-in-law. Yes, Silvia had maintained the house, but not out of obligation to me. She did it out of love and devotion to the women who loved this house and who loved us both.

I handed her the papers. She had the ownership in her hands and in classic Italian-family reverence, she threw them at me and told me to grow up. I’ll never forget the look on her face as the papers scattered all over the kitchen floor. “I don’t need this house. I don’t need the money you say I can make by selling it.” She pointed directly at me. “I would never sell it. It’s not mine to sell and, Lennox, it’s not yours either. It’s Angelina’s. She loved this house because it represented her family. Face your ghosts and man up. This house needs you.”

She challenged me to stay one night. Dared me. Like a fucking sister would dare her brother and because that’s how my mother wanted us to be, I accepted. It was one of the longest nights of my life.

To this day, I don’t know if Oren knows that I wanted to rid myself of the house. I still don’t think it’s his concern. Nevertheless, I made peace with it. The next day, Silvia and I made our peace too.

She’s my family—blood or no blood.

I started making an effort to visit more often. It was usually only for dinner, but when Oren was in town, occasionally I’d stay. I told myself it was to keep him away from my apartment in the city. Perhaps that was true.

We never discussed it, but Oren always took the master suite. I admit that at first it pissed me off, thinking of my mother there alone while he was off doing whatever in the hell he was doing. However, with time, I secretly appreciated his saving me from reentering that room. Over the years I’d avoided it.

The room down the hall was perfectly acceptable.

When I arrived tonight, I imagined finding Charli asleep in the bed we’d shared. I assumed that would be the room Silvia would give her. I’d only just opened the door to the darkened room when I’d heard her voice—not only her voice, her despair. It flowed down the hallway in a cloud, emanating from where she was and reaching out to me.

Stepping through that doorway to the master bedroom suite… there was so much at once. Though my eyes immediately went to Charli, I couldn’t help but see my father holding the hand of another woman. My teeth clenched knowing that this was the same room he’d at one time shared with my mother. In that millisecond, I took in Charli’s mom. It was the first time I’d seen her in person, and yet I’d barely noticed her. My Charli had dominated my vision and needed my attention.

Ghosts no longer registered. My father was no longer relevant. All that mattered was Charli—her swollen eyes, tearstained cheeks, and broken expression. The woman in the bed had her attention. That woman wasn’t someone taking my mom’s place: she was Charli’s mom.

I was running on fumes. We all were.

If her devil of a stepfather and even the law couldn’t keep us separated, memories wouldn’t.

I closed Oren’s door and left him, the nurse, and Adelaide behind.

I held tighter to Charli’s hand as we began down the hallway. It was time for us.

I needed to hold her, comfort her, and do everything in my power to ease the tension surging through her beautiful, petite body and emanating from her.

Pulling her close, I brushed my lips against hers and sighed. Damn, it didn’t matter where we were or who was fighting against us, as long as I had her in my arms, life was right.

“Amore mio?” she asked.

“Always.”

Her golden eyes opened wider as I opened the door to our suite. “What does it mean?”

Closing the door, I pulled her against me. “It means my love. And you are. Seeing you, holding you, having you here, makes the hell of the last nearly two weeks worth it.”

As her arms encircled my neck, she buried her cheek against my chest. “I don’t understand. Why would your dad say that to my mom?”

“Princess, can we save all other topics for tomorrow… after we sleep?”