Deep (Pagano Family #4)(48)

To regret was to open the door to torment.

Nick did not regret.

He did not.

He knotted his tie, shrugged on his suit jacket, and went to his office. From a top drawer of his desk, he took out a flat velvet box. And then he left his apartment, nodded at Sam, and went down the hall.

Though he could and usually did simply walk into Beverly’s apartment, today he knocked. When she opened her door, her pretty brow was wrinkled. “Hi. Why’d you knock?”

Stepping in, he hooked his hand around her neck and kissed her. She was beautiful, dressed perfectly for the day in a simple black dress, sleeveless, with a stiff, knee-length skirt that flared out a little from her waist. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail.

“Donnie’s away today. I wanted to knock so you weren’t startled.” Donnie was working elsewhere on this day. Nick would have Beverly with him all day, so they only needed one guard.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’m always okay, bella.” He held her briefly, then kissed the top of her head and set her back. “I have something for you.” From the inside of his jacket, he pulled out the velvet box.

She cocked her head but didn’t take the box from him. “What’s that?”

“A gift.”

With a small, curious smile and a glint of uncertainty in her eyes, she took the box and pushed open the hinged lid. Inside, on a satin bed, was a necklace, a simple, gold chain with a pendant—a sun, its rays gold, its center made of diamonds.

“Oh, Nick. It’s beautiful.” She started to lift it out of the box, but he took the box from her and did it himself, then walked behind her. Knowing what he meant to do, she pulled her ponytail out of the way.

After he fastened the clasp at her nape, he pressed his lips there and then gently pulled her ponytail free of her grasp, letting it lie on her back again. Then he turned her to face him, and he kissed her softly. “Sei il mio sole,” he murmured.

He liked that she never asked him what the quiet Italian words he gave her meant. There was a naked kind of trust in her simple assumption that what he’d said was good. He was by no means fluent in the language of his forebears. He’d told her the truth—he could get by in Italy, but with a few exceptions, the things he could say well in Italian were things to say quietly, in passion, dark or light.

Beverly picked the pendant up from her chest and kissed it, a gesture Nick found powerful and sweet. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She looked up at him. “But today?”

Nick had always enjoyed giving gifts to his women, usually jewelry. His enjoyment had been less about pleasing the woman, and more about the adornment of her. Seeing the small sun lying a few inches below Beverly’s throat, the image of her kissing it still vivid on his eyes, he felt something different.

“Today, yes. I need my sunshine.”

As she looked up at him and smiled, her eyes filled and swam with tears. Then she nodded and took his hand. “Okay. I’m here.”

He picked up her little handbag from the table by the door and handed it to her, and then he led her out of her apartment, and Sam escorted them to his best friend’s funeral.



oOo



Brian’s mother, Pauline, and a younger sister, Janet, were his only surviving family. The mourners at his funeral were all Pagano Brothers family. His mother wanted no visitation or vigil. The Mass was brief, the graveside service briefer still. Pauline stood between Janet and Nick and stared at the casket until it had been lowered into the ground. Then she turned abruptly on her heel and walked away.

Janet stayed behind, staring at Nick.

Nick squeezed Beverly’s hand. “Go with my mother, bella. I’ll meet you at the car.” He waved Matty and Donnie over. “Stay with them, both of you.”

Matty nodded and held out his hand to Beverly. “C’mon, ma’am.” Since it had become clear that she was Nick’s—today made it official—everyone called her ma’am. She always blushed, just a faint tinge, at that.

When they were alone at Brian’s open grave, Sam at a discreet but wary distance, Nick turned to Janet. “You have something to say, Janet.” He didn’t ask, he stated. It was obvious that she did. She’d been staring icily at him since he’d greeted her at the church.

She laughed without humor. “You always were super smart. Remember sitting around after school, eating pizza rolls and drinking 7Up and watching Jeopardy? Even back then, you knew most of the answers.” She laughed again, that same dry tone. “I had a wicked huge crush on you when we were kids. Longer than that, even.”

“I know.” Janet was four years younger. She’d been transparently fascinated by Nick from the time he was about sixteen.

“I know you know. You know everything. So I know you know this. Brian’s dead because of you.”

“No. Brian’s dead because of our enemies.” Nick would not carry that weight.

She scoffed. “Is that right. When he got hurt just a couple of weeks ago, that bomb thing—he was protecting you, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. That was his job.” He would not carry that weight.

“His job. Your best friend’s job was to lay his life on the line for you. You used him like a shield. That’s what kind of friend you are. Is that how he died, too? Taking your bullet?”