Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“To protect yourself?”
“To protect our pact. I’m not the kind of girl who shoots off her mouth about her man or about what happens behind closed doors.”
“Is that why you’re not angry with me?”
“Anya.” She leans over and takes my hand. “You’re the kind of woman who knows how to keep a man’s secrets. It’s a rare quality. No wonder Sav is so taken with you. You’re perfect for each other.” She pats my hand. “When you fall for a man like Harvey or Sav, you don’t have the luxury of choosing between right or wrong. Once they’ve decided you’re theirs, you don’t stand a chance. You may as well give up the fight.”
“What happened in the church—”
“It’s tragic and damn-right unjust, but it happened. Don’t harp on it. It’s not going to change anything, and it won’t do you any good. The important thing now is to fight for Sav and your baby girl.” She gives my fingers a squeeze before letting go. “But before you even start with them, you have to fight for yourself.”
I consider her for a moment. There’s so much about Livy I never knew. I always found her secretiveness part of her charm, but I could never have guessed what she endured.
For all of one second, I consider telling her everything and not just the superficial parts she worked out for herself—how Saverio blackmailed me into being his alibi and his wife and that he only married me for my child so that he can realize his dream of being a father. But then I look into her wise blue eyes and see so many more secrets.
Livy is right. Some skeletons are better left in the closet. Some feelings are too personal to share. Besides, I can’t tell her why Saverio threatened me without telling her about the men he murdered, and I’m not going to endanger her with those truths.
“Now,” she says, her decisive tone indicating that the matter has been dealt with and that we’re moving on. “Have you named that girl of yours?”
“Claire,” I say, clearing my throat to get rid of the lump that’s lodged there.
“That’s such a pretty name. I brought clothes for you and Claire as well as diapers and toiletries. I took your purse with your wallet. Your phone is charged and inside.”
I’m so grateful for this woman. “Thank you, Livy.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Did the doctor say when he’s discharging you?”
“Tomorrow.”
Her manner turns serious. “Dante told me about Saverio’s injuries. He’s going to need a lot of care going forward. Maybe it’s a good idea if I move in with you to help with Claire for a while, at least until both you and Saverio are back on your feet.”
“Oh, Livy.” I bite my trembling lip, forcing down tears of gratitude. “You’re always there for me when I need you.”
She smiles. “I see a lot of my younger self in you. I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through, but I’ve lived long enough to have an inkling.” She gets to her feet, glancing at my untouched dinner. “Not hungry?”
“Not yet.” I doubt I’ll be able to stomach food.
“Do you want something from the cafeteria?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“In that case, I’ll let you get some rest. I can do with a few hours of sleep myself.” She crosses the floor and waves from the door. “See you later, kiddo. Call me if you need anything.”
With that, she’s gone.
It’s just like Livy to be eccentric when life is calm and following its course, adding spice to the mundaneness of an everyday routine, and when the world goes up in flames, she’s not dramatic or over-complicating issues.
My first priority is to call Tersia. I take the phone from my bag that Livy left on the nightstand and dial her number.
The phone rings for a long time before going onto voicemail. I leave a short message, asking her to call me when it’s convenient. Maybe she’s ignoring the call because she doesn’t want to speak to me. The thought physically hurts, but I won’t blame her if she never wants to see me again. My dishonesty merits her anger and judgement.
Next, I call the rehabilitation center. My mom and I haven’t been on speaking terms for a while, but the least I owe her is telling her that I’m alive. She has the right to know that she’s a grandmother. What she does with that information is up to her.
“Ms. Brennan,” the receptionist says when I’ve asked if she could put me through to my mom’s room.
“Actually, it’s Mrs. De Luca now,” I admit awkwardly. The sound of that is still strange.
“Mrs. De Luca.” She hesitates. “Bertrand was just about to call you.”
“He was?”
I guess he saw the news.
“Hold on,” she says before generic music plays in my ear.
A moment later, Bertrand’s voice comes over the line. “Anya.”