Unraveled (Guzzi Duet Book 1)(52)

“All right. Ask me your question again, but make more sense this time.”

“How do you care and attach yourself to people who feel like their existence in your life is not guaranteed, but more temporary than you’re willing to admit. Like tomorrow, someone gets pissed off or offended and suddenly, you’re burying your sister … or someone else you love.”

Tommas sighed. “That’s a heavy question for someone who didn’t even thank me for wishing her a happy birthday a month ago.”

“Thank you for the birthday wishes, Tommy.”

He grunted under his breath. “I don’t think about it—that’s how I deal. And I protect those people as best I can, I do whatever I need to do so that my choices and my actions don’t inadvertently hurt them or take them away from me.”

“Huh.”

“Sometimes I fail, too,” Tommas added, a sadness creeping into his tone. “And that kills me, but it’s unavoidable.”

“Yeah, but …”

“What, Cara?”

“What about people like me?”

“I do that for you, too. Why do you think you’re still in Toronto, huh? Not here, in Chicago, advancing my stupid ass in this fucking family or something?”

“I meant, what about women like me—how do I deal with it? I can’t manage it the same way you do, I’m not like you, Tommy.”

“That’s not an easy answer, Cara.”

“Try me. Give me something.”

“Why are you even asking this shit?”

“I need to know how to deal,” she said sharply, offering little else.

“I only know what I see around me,” Tommas replied quietly. “Or rather, the women around me. My cousin’s wife, or the women in my family. My friends’ wives, or famiglia daughters that bury their parents with dry faces and shaking hands. They’re strength, Cara. They are the picture and embodiment of strength all around me. They handle their shit far better than any of us men ever could. They cook dinner, wipe children’s faces, do what they have to do, and they smile when faced with their fears. I don’t know how they do it, because I am too busy trying to keep allowing them the chance to cook their dinners, love their messy-faced children, and have no fears, all the while. Do you understand?”

“But you’re part of the reason they’re in that sort of life, Tommas.”

“And all we made men do is make the best of what we know, Cara. Nothing more, nothing less.”

She took the time to absorb her brother’s words.

Tommas always gave it to her straight, after all.

He didn’t pretty shit up.

“Oh, there’s something else you need to know,” Tommas said tiredly.

“What’s that?”

“Serena’s body was found this morning by the maid. Suicide, apparently.”

Cara wished she was surprised to learn the news of her mother’s death.

She wasn’t.

Something else that was … inevitable.

“I’m sorry,” Cara said softly.

“Are you?”

“For you, Tommy. I’m sorry for you. You’ve dealt with her your whole life, longer than I ever put up with her. You would only do that—and keep doing it—because somewhere inside, you hold affection for her.”

“Not anymore,” Tommas murmured. “I can let you know when the funeral is going to be.”

“I would rather you didn’t.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Please bury her beside Dad, not on the other side of Lea.”

Tommas mumbled his agreement quickly.

“Cara?”

“Yes?” she asked.

“I don’t know what’s going on, or what made you pick up the phone to ask me all of this tonight, but there’s really only one thing that matters in this life of ours, anyway.”

“And what’s that, Tommas?”

“Do what makes you happy. Be where, or with whom, or do whatever you need to do to be happy. Take that risk—it’s worth it. Because this life is fleeting, and tomorrow might be the last time you smile, so it’s better to spend today happy.”





“Sit, sit!” Gian clapped his hands twice, helping to quiet the men milling around the long dinner table. He waved at the waiting seats, and the men began to fill them. “Dinner is served.”

As he said those words, two women, and one man, strolled into the dining room, each holding platters carrying all sorts of foods. Once the food was set down on the table, the help left and then returned with pitchers of drinks.

After they were gone for good, Gian waited to see if any man at the table would reach for food or a drink before he approved it. None did.

Instead, they looked to him, waiting.

As all good made men did for their boss.

It had taken Gian a couple of weeks to really get used to the fact that a great portion of the Guzzi made men saw him as exactly that—their boss.

He thought it appropriate to hold their first unofficial dinner where the last man they respected and followed as a boss had his, too. At Corrado’s home, at his dining room table.

Maybe he had done this for a bit of nostalgia, too.

Gian took his own seat, said a quick prayer as had become a custom when sitting down to eat dinner with family, and then he waved again. “Tutti mangiare.”