Mena
The funeral had just ended, and everyone was back at the mansion. The house was transformed into a sea of flowers, each one for Stefano, whom I had realized was adored by many.
It was difficult seeing the family in pain, and it was more difficult because I felt partially responsible. It was a burden I wasn’t sure how to bear.
Alessio and I had barely spoken since our last argument, ten sentences in total at best, but even then, I tried to be there for him. During the service, I would lean my head on his shoulder and give him a hand-just small signs of silent support.
Now I watched him from across the room as he was comforting Stefano’s daughters. He had done that for every person who had shed a tear today, looking out for everyone-but no one looked out for him.
How did Alessio manage to hold it together when he shouldn’t have to?
Even Gian, whom I hadn’t thought had a heart, had cried his heart out today.
Gian, who had been glaring at me all day, blocked my sight with his wheelchair from a distance. All day, I had been dodging those looks. I wanted to believe that he wasn’t himself and that he was just angry and in pain-but even I could see this had gone too far. It had come to the point where I even hesitated to breathe too loudly around him.
That thing he called me, ‘dumb brainless bitch,’ that word just triggered something inside of me.
Considering the circumstances, dumb I could understand, brainless was debatable, but a bitch?
My heart jumped as Melody and Naty ran into his arms. “Uncle!” Naty called out.
Gian’s expression changed, and the glare quickly turned into a soft gaze and a warm smile. When he lifted Naty onto his lap, his eyes met mine again, this time with an evil smirk on his lips.
That is enough.
I immediately stepped forward, to snatch my daughter away, but before I could take a step, an arm blocked my path.
“Dante?”
“Don’t,” Dante ended the discussion that hadn’t even started yet. “I know Gian can be much, but I promise you, his beef is not with little children. Let it rest.”
A breath escaped my lips, watching Gian and Naty. He laughed at something she said and ruffled his hand through her hair. Embarrassed but relieved, I let out a soft scoff and dropped my tensed shoulders.
Dante seemed to have matured overnight. He didn’t joke around as he used to, had become more serious-and was often seen at Domenico’s side. I felt comfortable around him, so I trusted his word. After all, it was his brother.
“Did Gian already have that black eye?” I asked, noticing the dark bruising for the first time.
Dante laughed, “No.”
I shot him a puzzled look, trying to make him spill whatever had happened to cause such an injury. “Well?” I arched my brows.
“You haven’t heard it from me-but he claims Alessio punched him for calling you a dumb brainless bitch,” Dante shared, his voice carrying a bit of pride that didn’t quite match the situation.
“He did?” I gasped, genuinely surprised. Alessio resorting to violence over words to deal with his brother’s disrespect was both shocking and oddly satisfying.
“Yes,” Dante continued with a shrug, “Told him he’d take his last hand and make him eat it if he ever talks to you like that again.”
That explained his glares.
Processing his words, I finally considered that Alessio’s anger might have run deeper than I had realized. I thought he didn’t care because everyone knew and accepted Gian wasn’t one to hold his tongue-but he did.
I felt bad for both of them.
Gian, for not being able to express his heart like a regular human being, and Alessio, for not being able to talk about his feelings like a regular human being.
They were a family that dealt with their feelings through aggression rather than calm words, and looking at Domenico, who hadn’t sat down for a second since he had lost his brother, it appeared to be a family trait.
It kept me thinking.
How were Alessio and I even going to be on the same page about anything when we had different ways of dealing with situations?
“You know,” Dante sighed. “My brother stole you from me.”
I frowned. “Stole? Was I yours then?”
Dante looked at me, dead serious. “Not yet, but I was working on it.”
He was working on it, and I could see that. He had shown his interest in me since day one, and I treated him coldly because I didn’t want anything to do with a Fanucci.
Even though he now knew the relationship started off as fake, it was pretty real
now, and it made me feel like a messed-up person.
Especially knowing that I still wouldn’t have chosen him if the situation was any different.
“He took you from me, he won, and that’s why I can’t let you give up on him,” he spoke. “I don’t know what the deal is between you two, but you need to figure it out,” his direct words made me nod as if I was receiving a scolding.
As Dante walked away, I took some time to gather my thoughts. His speech, if I could call it that, stirred something in me.
Alessio and I had quite a road, and giving up on him at this point would be a waste of my time.
We had our disagreements, we argued, and it was something that could’ve been fixed a long time ago.
I still loved him, I still wanted to be with him-and I believed he could still change his way of communicating.
Those were all the things I failed to see in Anson.
My eyes searched for Alessio again, this time he stood alone by the large framed picture of his uncle. He didn’t move a muscle and seemed to be in a trance.
For a moment, I hesitated, torn between letting him have his space for once and the urge to reach out to him so we could stop whatever we were doing.
I went for my second option and dragged my feet toward him.
Tapping him gently on the back, I watched as he spun around quickly like someone would do if they were under attack. His eyes were watery, he was holding back his tears, and in his hand was the watch he had given his uncle.
I immediately reached out, rubbing his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. He was on the brink of tears, but I knew he wouldn’t allow himself to let them fall down because that would be a hit to his pride.
No matter what, I couldn’t leave him to face this alone.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Alessio responded, trying to keep his voice steady. “How are you?”
There it was again.
Looking out for others before looking out for himself.
“Good,” I replied, still awkward. It was just too strange to pretend like nothing happened when we both knew it did. We had to talk about it, we had to get over it and move on.
“Can we-”
“Yes!” Alessio cut me off with a bright expression. “I mean, I was hoping you were going to say talk,” he clarified, a sheepish look on his face.
“Yes,” I smiled.
“Yes?” Alessio let out a sigh of hope. Then he gently placed his hand on my back, guiding me so we could have a talk in private.