Until We Meet Again(66)
even less.”
“But that didn’t stop you from dating her?”
“Don’t be this way. Please, Cassandra. I never gave myself to
her. You have to believe me.”
I can’t even look at him. “I need some time.”
He sighs. “Time is the one thing we don’t have.”
Bitterness rises in my throat. “You think I don’t know that?”
It’s taking every ounce of my strength not to cry. “I have to go.
My mom will be up soon.”
“Cassandra, please.” He sounds miserable. “Will you come
back?”
I turn back to the house without responding.
“I’ll wait here,” he says. “All day if I have to.”
Back in my room, I crawl into bed and curl up in a ball
beneath the blanket, body and spirit spent. I lie there for at
least an hour, eyes shut, heart aching with each beat. But sleep
won’t come. It’s probably just as well.
Eventually, the clanking sounds of breakfast being cooked
drift up into my room. I have no intention of going downstairs, but the longer I lie here, the more I realize that I can’t risk getting on Mom’s bad side. I slink down to the kitchen
and sit zombie-like through breakfast with Mom, Eddie, and
Frank. They’re discussing a sailing trip up the coast for the
weekend. I feel like my insides are being ripped apart. I want
to be furious with Lawrence, but I may only have two days
left with him. Do I really want to waste them being angry?
Last night was very special. Some people never get the chance
to have that kind of romance. I know that. I can’t let my
insecurities taint that. But to think of Lawrence being with
another girl… it makes me physically exhausted.
After breakfast, I drag myself upstairs and collapse on my
bed. I get under my blanket again. Part of me wants to stay
here the rest of the day and feel sorry for myself. But thankfully, the rest of me knows I can’t do that. It’s already nearly eleven. The day is slipping away. Every minute I waste in this
bed is a minute I could be spending with Lawrence.
Rolling onto my back, I press my hands over my eyes, wishing I could push the knowledge of this Fay girl out of my head.
But I can’t. So it’s time to grow up and deal instead of sulking
about it. Lawrence is all that matters now.
I grab my laptop and flop it on my stomach. I enter “Fay
Cartelli” into the search engine. It’s a long shot, I know.
Sure enough, I find the website for a graphic designer in
Dallas. Some random girl’s Facebook page. Pursing my lips to
the side, I try “Fay Cartelli 1925.”
After sifting through five pages of search results, I find nothing. I try at least ten more variations of her name, adding different words with no success.
And then I search: “Cartelli Lower East Side New York
1925.” On the second page, I notice a site dedicated to New
York during Prohibition. It’s right there.
The Cartellis. A prominent crime family from the Lower
East Side.
The hair on the back of my neck prickles. I stare at the
screen. It can’t be possible. There are probably dozens of
Cartellis on the Lower East Side. The likelihood of one of
them being related to this Fay chick is astronomically small.
But then…what if? We’re dealing with a murder here. Last
time I checked, murder is kind of the mob’s specialty. Of
course, you have to wonder why they would bother killing a
seventeen-year-old living in ritzy Massachusetts.
Unless, of course, he was cheating on their daughter. The
thought slams me right in the chest.
Am I the reason Lawrence is killed?
Chapter 26
Cassandra
ou can’t think of it that way, Cassandra. You’ll drive
Y
yourself crazy.”
It’s ironic that Lawrence is the one with less than forty-eight
hours to live, but he’s trying to calm my panic attack.
“I knew we shouldn’t have messed with time,” I say, unable to draw a good breath. “I said it from the very beginning. You
mess with the past, and you screw up the future. Once we realized what was going on, we should have left each other alone.”
He grips my hands. “We have no way of knowing if Fay’s family is even responsible for my death. You could be panicking for nothing.”
“They’re mob, Lawrence. An Italian mob family. Have you ever seen The Godfather? Do you not understand how these
people operate? They kill at the drop of a hat. You said Fay was
mad when you guys parted?”
He scratches the back of his neck reluctantly. “Yes.”
“And why was she mad? Because you told her about me?”
“Well no, but she did find out about you…in a way. I can’t imagine her actually trying to have me killed for it.”
“Not her. But what about her big, mean, mobster daddy?