Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 73663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“You realize I’d never dress like that, right?”
“Maybe? I didn’t think you’d golf, but here we are.”
“It’s expediency. It’s necessary for my job.”
She leans forward, amused. “Do you do anything that isn’t related to your job then?”
I stare right back and don’t answer. My life isn’t easy. I work at the real estate office during the day as a front, but in reality, I’m doing Famiglia business all the time, morning to night. That’s on top of handling my brothers, watching out for my little sister, and taking care of my mother.
I don’t have time for hobbies. There’s no such thing as a single free hour in my world. If I’m not working, I’m helping the people I care about, and if I’m not doing that—
“I like to exercise.”
She sits up straight. “Hey, there we go. I guess that counts.” She puts her glass to her lips as she glances at my chest. “And explains a lot.”
“I lift, run, jump rope, and do some boxing. I won a marathon last year.”
She laughs, not sure if she believes me. “You won a marathon?”
“It was a small marathon. Just a local race.”
“Right, totally fine and normal.” She rubs her face, shaking her head. “You’re unreal.”
“Thank you.”
The waitress returns. I order the Bolognese and she asks for the chicken. It’s all good, and though I’m tempted to order for her, I can tell she wouldn’t like that.
Maddie’s a strange creature. Mousy, scared, reserved, but with an inner demon lurking under the surface. She doesn’t want to be noticed, but she also doesn’t want to be pampered or taken care of. She’s independent with her own set routines and habits, but she’s also willing to drop everything to marry a total stranger for the chance at a lot of money.
I’m not sure how to read her yet.
It’s like she’s one kind of person but wants to be someone completely different.
“I was wondering,” she says, doing her best to look nonchalant. “Where did you disappear to earlier today?”
I don’t meet her gaze. This isn’t a subject I want to talk about. “Mother had a bad day.”
Her tone softens. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine.”
“Is that where you usually go? When you take an early day.”
I glance up, eyes narrowed. “You noticed that?” Mother’s been worse and worse the last few months, which means I’ve skipped work to head home at least once or twice a week for a while now.
“Everyone notices. When the big bad wolf leaves the office, it’s like everyone can breathe better.”
“I’m not that bad.”
“You are. You stomp around and terrify everyone.”
“That’s not remotely true. I’m a kind and generous boss.”
She wags a fork at me. “Now you’re just lying. Didn’t you promise to always tell me the truth?”
“Alright, you caught me, I’m the office grump.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. But seriously, I’m sorry about your mother. You’re really active in her care, aren’t you?”
“I’m one of the few people that can really calm her down when she’s having a tough time.” I stare at my plate. Why did I just say that? I don’t talk about Mother, ever, not with anyone, not even with my brothers. Saul’s around the most and he knows how difficult things are at home—but even he doesn’t know that I’ve been running myself ragged.
It isn’t easy. Worrying about Mother, about the Famiglia, about my little sister at college, about holding the organization together, about running the businesses, about my shithead brothers and their stupid antics—it piles up on my shoulders every day.
I hold it together because I have to. And because I can handle it.
But it’d be nice if someone understood for once.
“I can’t imagine how difficult that must be,” Maddie says. “When did it start?”
“We got the diagnosis before my father died, so about a year ago. The doctors couldn’t say how rapid her decline would be, and, well—” I leave it at that. “Early onset is an ugly thing.”
“You’re right. It’s really awful.”
“At least I can help her. I take comfort in that.”
“What about your brothers?”
“They’re worthless. Well, Saul tries. Gian’s out on the West Coast and comes back as often as he can, but he’s busy running our operations out there. Then there’s Carlo.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s taking it the worst. Can’t be around her for long. Just can’t handle it.” I smile bitterly. “Stefania’s better with Mother than he is, and she’s only nineteen. But she’s in college and there’s no way in hell I’d let her give up some of the best years of her life to stay at home and live in misery.”
She’s quiet, poking at her food. I glance away and wish I hadn’t opened up so much. I don’t want her to look at me differently now just because my mother’s sick.
It’s not a burden. Taking care of a loved one isn’t a sacrifice. I do what I have to do because my mother is important to me—and because she did all this for her children when we were little. Back when I was growing up, the Famiglia was smaller, less powerful. We didn’t have the money and resources we have now. Mother raised us by herself while Papa was out doing the business. I owe her a lot.