in Nick’s home, with his daughter, with his whole family, gave him a new insight into what a whole life like this meant.
There was a lot that was good. Like Lia had said, her family was a good family, with a good life. He just wasn’t so sure what Nick left that good family every day to do was what he himself wanted forever.
Maybe it was too late to have these second thoughts—of course it was too late; he’d seen crimes, committed crimes, in the service of the Pagano Brothers. He’d been present when Nick Pagano himself had cut the beating heart out of a man. He knew things, and that would make him a liability on the outside. So, yeah, it was way too late for second thoughts.
And he wanted Lia, too. So he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d have to settle his doubts, and he would once all this sadness began to lift.
But his mother was not a fan of his life choice, so he was surprised to hear her say he was where he belonged.
“Am I?” he replied.
“Sure. Lia needs you, and you’re obviously crazy about each other, so you should be with her.” She looked around the room, at all the mourners at this wake, and fixated on Bev, who sat in a chair in the living room. There was a line of people waiting to give her their condolences. “Donna Pagano looks exhausted. These things are so hard.”
“I don’t know why we do funerals like this. It seems macabre, everybody standing around eating snacks after a funeral. Why don’t we just let the family alone?”
His mom turned back to him. “Because when they’re alone, there’s nothing left but the grief. You’ve been at this house a lot since Christmas. Have they been alone at all, except for you?”
“Sometimes.”
“And how are they? How does the mood feel?”
Alex understood. When the house was empty of guests, or even when it had simply slowed down for the night, the air felt thick as molasses. Everybody was sad all the time, but when the house was quiet, that sadness filled every corner. Lia cried more at night than any other time. “I get it.”
“After today, the whole rest of the world is going to go back to normal life. This is when it gets hard.”
“It’s been hard, Ma.”
“This is when it gets hard, honey. Because now life has to go on without her.”
~oOo~
The wake petered out after a few hours, but family lingered until nearly sunset, doing dishes, sealing up leftovers, trying to put the house to rights. Alex’s mom had left as soon as it wasn’t rude to do so. The Pagano family was so big that he didn’t feel entirely necessary, but he offered his help where he could.
He was coming in from a trip to the trash bins when he came face to face with the don, who’d just stepped into the garage with two more bags.
In his whole lifetime, he’d never expected to see Don Pagano taking out the trash, but here he was, still in his suit trousers, the cuffs of his white shirt folded to the elbows and his collar open at two buttons.
“I’ll take those, don.”
“Thank you, Alex.” He handed them over, and Alex went back to the bins. He expected the don to go back inside; the cold out here was brittle. But he was still in the garage, right in front of the door, when Alex came back.
Not knowing what else to do, he stopped and asked. “Is there anything else I can do?”
The don’s keen eyes studied him like a lab experiment. “You’ve been good to Lia.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Alex didn’t know how to respond. He could tell the don he loved Lia, and he’d be speaking truly, from the heart, but he wasn’t quite brave enough to find out what Nick Pagano would think about some nobody like him loving his daughter.
Finally, he found another truth. “She’s special.”
“She is.” He continued his microscopic examination and then added, “Can you take care of her like she deserves?”
That was a question, and in it Alex saw that Lia’s father would accept him—really accept him—as part of Lia’s life. So he had to answer correctly.
But what answer was that? They were standing here in the freezing garage at the end of a day that proved not even Nicolo Pagano could take care of the people he loved like they deserved. He could give them any luxury, make their