Sempre (Forever Series #1)(40)

“Kennedy’s dead,” Vincent said. “Has been for a long time.”

“I know that,” she spat. “I’m not crazy.”

Vincent laughed dryly. The jury was still out on that. The doctors suspected Gia DeMarco suffered from early onset dementia, but Vincent leaned toward her simply refusing to move past her glory days. She didn’t want to admit life went on without her, that the world didn’t stop turning the day her husband died.

Usually lucid, every now and then she’d slip back to those times when Antonio DeMarco was the most powerful man in Chicago and Vincent still cared about making his parents proud.

“Some fresh air would be nice, don’t you think?”

Gia reached up and rubbed her right ear, ignoring Vincent for the third time. “My ear’s ringing. That old hag Gertrude next door must be talking about me.”

“Did you take aspirin today? That can cause ear ringing.”

“It’s not the medication,” she said. “It’s her.”

His mother was nothing if not superstitious. “Gertrude doesn’t seem like the gossiping type.”

“Like you could tell, Vincenzo. You have the judgment of an imbecile! You and your Irish—”

“Don’t start, Ma.” Vincent raised his voice as he cut her off. “I’m not going to listen to it again.”

Gia was quiet, as if considering whether or not to finish her thought, but finally changed the subject. “Your sister visits me all the time. I see Corrado more than I see you.”

It was a lie, but Vincent let it roll off his back.

“Now that’s what I call a good man,” she said. “Corrado’s loyal. Always has been. His only flaw is he never gave your sister any babies. I always wanted grandchildren.”

“You have grandchildren,” Vincent said. “Two of them.”

Gia scoffed but managed to keep her opinion to herself. She stared out the window, shaking her head. “You don’t care about me, Vincenzo. You never even take me outside anymore.”

* * *

Since the DeMarcos had moved to North Carolina, the boys had thrown a Halloween party every year. Vincent was hesitant to agree this year, but after a bit of pestering and a lot of promising, he caved with one strict rule—Haven was to be watched at all times.

The house smelled like Pine-Sol when Carmine arrived home that afternoon, the aroma so heavy it stung his eyes. He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, seeing Haven scrubbing the marble floor. She hummed, oblivious to his presence, and he listened as he tried to place the song.

She stood and turned around, the humming cut off by a yelp. “You’re home!”

He chuckled as she dropped the sponge. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, hummingbird.”

“You didn’t. I was only . . .” She trailed off as she eyed him peculiarly. “Hummingbird?”

“Yeah, hummingbird. Colibri. You kinda remind me of one.”

He felt like an idiot as those words hung between them.

She looked bewildered. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “They’re these little colorful birds that flutter around and hum. And, you know, you’re kinda the same way.”

Her cheeks flushed. “You heard me?”

“I’ve heard you a few times. It’s, uh . . .” He didn’t know what to say. “What song is it?”

“It’s something my mama used to sing.”

She fidgeted, averting her eyes. Her sweatpants and tank top were splattered with soapy water, her hair all over the place.

“You should get dressed,” he suggested. “We have somewhere to go, and I’m sure you’d rather put on something else.”

She eyed him skeptically. “Okay.”

She lingered for a moment before heading upstairs. He rolled his tense shoulders as he silently berated himself, wishing he’d loosen up around her. His anxiety fueled hers, and the last thing he wanted was for her to avoid him again.

It only took Haven a few minutes to return, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He opened the front door, and Haven hesitated in the doorway before stepping on the porch. After engaging the alarm and locking up, he helped her into his car. She thanked him softly when he climbed into the driver’s side, her eyes darting around as they drove. “Where are we going?”

Carmine opened the center console, looking for his list, before motioning toward the glove compartment. “Check in there for a piece of paper.”

She did what he said, shifting things around, and blushed when she pulled out a small black box. Carmine groaned, realizing she’d found the condoms he kept in the car.

“Christ, I forgot they were in there.” He snatched them from her hand and rolled down the window in a panic, tossing them out along the side of the road. He ignored her incredulous look, not wanting to have to explain, and waved her back to the glove compartment.

Haven searched again, grabbing a piece of notebook paper. “Is this it?”

“Yeah, that’s it. Read it.”

Wide-eyed, she stammered over some of the words. “Uh, chips . . . pret—uh, pretzels . . . soda . . . Are we going to a store?”

“Yes. That’s what we need for the party. While we’re there, we’ll stock up the house. You know, kill two birds with one stone.”