Mafia Casanova - M. Robinson Page 0,9

when you turn around and look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me to fucking leave! To go home to my fiancé, your brother! Tell me, Romeo! Look at me and tell me to go home!”

I tensed, my hands fisting in the pockets of my slacks.

If I told her the truth of how I felt, then we’d be back to square one, and she’d wake up in my arms. Both of us betraying a man who’d die for her.

I sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady my mind.

My heart.

I spun and faced her, staring deep into her glossy eyes. Tears streamed down her gorgeous face. In five confident strides, I was standing in front of her.

She sucked in a breath when I leaned over, pausing inches from her lips. Pecking the corner of her mouth, I kissed away the tear that fell because of me.

She wanted me to fight with her.

She wanted me to tell her that it wasn’t true.

My words devastated her, but not because they weren’t true. They gutted her because they were true, every last one of them.

Hurt.

Pain.

Sorrow.

Of love and hate.

I loved Eden, but there were also times I hated her.

This was just one example of why.

“I do,” meant “goodbye.”

To the memories.

To the love.

To the woman I’d spend the rest of my life trying to forget.

“I do” was simply the end.

Tristian had asked me for this one thing.

One thing to be his.

Eden.

The woman we both loved more than anything.

So I fucking said it.

“You’re his.” I looked straight into her tear-stained face and cupped her chin. “You’ve always been his.”

I slammed the final nail in my coffin, spewing, “Go home, Red. I don’t fucking love you.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“People change, it’s just a matter of if they die before it happens.” —Orochimaru

Eden

Now

I don’t know how long I stood there, water pelting my shivering body until my teeth started to chatter until my body went numb like my heart. Until it felt like nothing was left of me.

I loved him.

I swear, I did.

Liar. My dark heart whispered.

For years he was my everything… until he started to change. Until we morphed into something unrecognizable. We shared a life, a home, a son. We had a future filled with happiness. I deserved that. He’d owed me that.

We both did.

Naz needed him.

His hero.

Now he was gone.

I watched with devastation as the shiny black casket was lowered into the hard, cold dirt. The heavens were raining upon me, weeping right along with me, raindrops seeping into my black dress.

Burning my core.

My heart.

My soul.

Little by little.

Deeper and deeper.

It became much more difficult to stand on my own.

But still, I stood there…

Not listening to the eulogies.

Not paying attention to the well wishes, and I’m so sorry.

Not caring for the prayers.

Not even reacting when people whispered under their breath that he deserved this.

Nothing would bring him back to me. Not even God.

There was nothing I could do, nothing I could say, no amount of hail Mary plays would make it okay. I could spend the rest of eternity on my knees, beating my chest, shouting toward Heaven.

And Heaven? Would punish me with its silence.

I lost myself until darkness surrounded me until all eyes were only staring at me until I wanted to die too.

With him.

Beside him.

One with my husband.

The only tether I had to this world was my son now, and even then, he was a constant reminder of what pieces of my heart would be forever missing.

I could feel the eeriness of the guests like a noose around my neck, just waiting to take my next breath. Waiting for me to react, waiting for me to breakdown, just waiting for me to do something.

Anything.

It could have been one minute, four days, or two months that had passed in front of my swollen eyes at the speed of a lightning strike. There was no saying how long I stood there staring at Tristian’s casket. If my puffy eyes and shivering body were any indications, I would have guessed a few hours. Time just seemed to stand still while my whole world shattered all around me.

Piece by piece.

One by one.

Now there would be nothing left of me.

Not the woman Tristian loved, married, had a son with. All they saw was a hollow shell of a person they used to know, holding onto the hope that I’d be that woman again. She was somewhere deep inside of me.

Hiding.

Scared.

Ceasing to exist.

Except I tried to