Eleonora don’t do it intentionally. It’s just the way it is. One part of me wants one thing. The other part needs something else.”
“What part of you needs?” I said.
“The part that has a tattoo of you and my daughter on its soul.”
I almost collapsed in relief. To want something was one thing. To need something was another.
“You can have both,” I said. “We’re not going anywhere. We will figure this out. How to balance.”
He grinned at me. “Why do you think I never considered getting married before?”
“You hadn’t found me?”
He put his fist to my chin and moved it, like he was giving me a punch, but it was playful. Something he did from time to time. “You changed everything,” he said. “I never wanted this before you. I didn’t need it until it became mine without permission. Love complicates things in this world, and rarely does it win. ”
I turned away from him, going to sit at the table. He took a seat across from me.
“One thing at a time,” I said, mostly to myself. “We need to talk about my cousin.” My heart beat painfully in my chest, but we could not go on this way.
At some point in time, the truth had to be set free. Mari agreed, and that was why she had come to see me at Bella Luna the night before. She felt it was time to tell him. She knew who Corrado was, but he had no idea about her. The rest would just have to come and be dealt with.
“You have many,” he said. “You’ll have to remind me which one.”
“You will remember him,” I said. “He was in Modica with Mariposa.”
“Mari,” he said, correcting me. “Her husband, your cousin, only calls her Mariposa.”
I nodded. “We call him Amadeo.”
He nodded.
“But only we call him that.” I took a deep breath. “This world calls him Mac Macchiavello.”
He stared at me blank-faced for what felt like forever, but was probably only a few minutes. “Your cousin is Vittorio Scarpone.”
“Sì,” I said. “I did not know they called him that here. Not until the day I went to eat with Mari at his restaurant. Most of his life, he has kept himself hidden from the world. After what his father did to him for not doing the same to your sister.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Rocco Fausti told you.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Amadeo’s wife told me.”
“His wife.”
Then he became quiet. I could see the gears turning behind his eyes, working it all out. “She’s my sister. He married my sister. The girl sitting next to me on the bench.”
“She wanted to talk to you. Get to know you. She was hoping that you would—”
He stood from his seat, placing both hands on the table. “Accept him?”
“Accept her son,” I said. “Her family.”
“She was only five when he stole her!” he roared.
“No, no!” I stood, waving my hands. “There is more to it. He saved her and then he hid her. A family, a daughter and father, took her in.” I explained to him what happened after that. How Amadeo had left her with money, changed her name, erased her identity, and years later, they met again. “When she was old enough.”
“You expect me to believe that?” he said. “That he waited until she was old enough?”
“Yes,” I said. “My cousin would not lie to me. I believe them both. It wasn’t done on purpose. Fate brought them back together.”
“He’s a Scarpone,” he said. “I don’t believe a fucking thing that comes out of his mouth.”
“He’s more than a Scarpone!” I yelled. “He has more than one side. He’s a good man and he loves your sister. He almost died for her.”
“So what are you saying? That I don’t love you as much because I didn’t almost die for you?”
I almost stumbled back. What was he talking about? He had to be in shock. I could see the surprise he tried to hide. His sister had been sitting next to him and he had no idea, and he was a man who made it his business to know everything. “I did not say that!”
“You didn’t have to,” he said. “You think he’s a hero for what he did. It doesn’t take a hero to not kill a child. Even a somewhat decent human being wouldn’t do it. Anything less is a rabid animal. Like the rest of his fucking family.”
“He does not want thanks for it,” I said. “But they still tried to