Sempre (Forever Series #1)(50)

And while she lived in Sunny Oaks, respected was something Gia didn’t feel.

Vincent waited as his mother finished telling a story about Antonio and one of their adventures back when Vincent and Celia were young. He found himself smiling as he thought about those days. It was before tragedy had struck. Before Maura and the kids. Before the Antonellis and the girl. Before Salvatore’s family had been murdered. Before the world had imploded around them.

Gia turned to him when she finished, the crowd disbursing and saying their good-byes.

“Ma, are you ready to—?”

“You didn’t take communion.”

He sighed. He’d planned to ask if she was ready to head back to Sunny Oaks, but it was senseless now. She wouldn’t go until she had said everything she wanted to say. “I couldn’t.”

Gia smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

He stood frozen as those words sunk through his thickened skin. Never in his life had he heard them from her. She must be demented. “You’re proud of me?”

She nodded. “You see it now, don’t you? After all these years, you understand.”

“Understand what?”

“That you were living in sin. Your marriage wasn’t recognized by the church.”

Vincent’s smile fell. Not demented, just evil. “It was recognized.”

“You were young, Vincenzo. And she was Irish! She wasn’t even like us!”

Celia responded before Vincent could. “Maura was Catholic, Mom. It was sanctified. Father Alberto was the one to marry them.”

Gia glared at her daughter before waving her hand dismissively. “How was I supposed to know? I didn’t even get invited.”

She’d been invited, of course, but she had shunned the service. Antonio had shown up out of respect for his son, but Gia refused. In her mind, if she didn’t see the wedding, she could go on acting as if the marriage didn’t exist.

“You were invited,” Vincent said. “You chose not to come.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Gia said. “I didn’t know anything about it until it was over.”

“If that’s true, Ma, how did Dad know to come?”

“What does that have to do with anything? Your father always snuck around, never told me anything. What makes this any different?”

Vincent tried to keep his anger at bay. “Because I handed you the invitation. You took one look at it and tossed it in the trash.”

Gia scoffed. “And the quacks say I have memory problems. That never happened.”

Corrado strolled over, his hands in his pockets. “What are we arguing about now?”

“Vincent marrying Maura,” Celia said. “Again.”

“Ah,” Corrado said. “I regret I wasn’t there.”

Gia laughed. “They didn’t invite you, either?”

“Oh, I was invited. I just didn’t think it was appropriate for me to attend.”

“See!” Gia looked at Vincent. “I told you it wasn’t a real marriage. Corrado agrees!”

Corrado started to correct her, but Vincent shook his head. Although it stung that his brother-in-law had skipped the wedding, sending Celia to the ceremony alone, Vincent understood. Unlike Gia, Corrado meant well.

“It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks,” Vincent said. “I know it was real.”

* * *

Haven spent the morning cleaning and finished near three o’clock when she heard cars outside. The alarm beeped and the front door opened as she stepped into the doorway to the kitchen, a few voices carrying through the house. Dr. DeMarco walked in with two men behind him. The hair on the back of Haven’s neck stood up at the sight of them.

Dr. DeMarco’s eyes met hers. She realized these men were probably like Master Michael—uncaring and cold, with no regard for people like her. They were like that part of Dr. DeMarco she’d seen in his bedroom. They were dangerous. More monsters.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward to gauge his reaction. The corner of his lips turned up, and she took his reaction to mean she should stay. Her legs trembled as she walked into the family room, where they gathered, the men taking notice of her right away.

“Bring us a bottle of scotch and some glasses,” Dr. DeMarco told her with a flippant wave. Haven scuttled to the kitchen. She searched the cabinets until she located the alcohol, and she scoured through the bottles, finding a brown one in the back with GLENFIDDICH SINGLE MALT SCOTCH WHISKEY written on it. She wiped off the unopened dusty bottle and juggled three glasses on her way back to the family room. She delivered the drinks, too nervous to make eye contact with any of them.

“So this is the girl.”

Haven chanced a peek at the man who spoke, his voice grating like metal scraping against glass. An air of authority surrounded him as he sat in the center, the others flanking him. He was clearly older than them.

“Yes,” Dr. DeMarco said. “It’s her.”

“I’m curious, Vincent,” the man said. “Do you think she was worth it?”

Dr. DeMarco’s bitter laughter sent chills down Haven’s spine, putting her more on edge. “Personally or as business?”

“Personally.”

“Of course she wasn’t worth it.”