Two Weeks Later
Jeff sat at a table near the entrance of Scholar’s Café staring at his phone in one hand and holding a cup of coffee in the other. It seemed like just yesterday we’d sat at that same table and he’d offered me the job with Cambridge Management Group to test the waters of working in the real world. A lot had changed since that fate-filled meeting.
“Hey, sweaty,” he said.
I grabbed a napkin off the table and blew my runny nose. “Hey, yourself,” I said and plopped into the chair across from him. I picked up one of the two glasses of ice water and drained it.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“Please.”
He flagged down one of the waiters while I removed my hat and gloves and unzipped my windbreaker.
“How was your run?”
I’d followed the same course I always did, running along the Charles River from Harvard to East Cambridge. But when I’d reached the domed and columned entrance to MIT at Killian Court, I’d stopped. That’s where I’d stood on stage for commencement, adorned in my regalia and an ear-to-ear smile, my parents waving to me from the audience.
MIT had been the epicenter of my life and career for over twenty years—learning, studying, teaching, growing—and the debt of gratitude I owed it had made my throat constrict. But it was time to move on. Our marriage had come to an end, and the divorce was bittersweet.
“Good,” I said with a resigned smile. “It was good.”
“What can I get you?” A server appeared, holding a pot of coffee.
“A cappuccino for her—”
“Extra hot,” I added.
“Extra hot,” Jeff said with a smirk. “And a caprese sandwich for us to split.”
“You got it,” the waiter said and headed back behind the counter.
Funny. Amid all the revolution, there were some things I never wanted to change. Like caprese sandwiches at Scholar’s with Jeff.
“Early lunch today,” Jeff said.
“Yeah, sorry. Marco and I are leaving at one for Amherst.”
“Meeting the parents?” He quirked a teasing smile.
“Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? A middle-aged man going to ask his middle-aged girlfriend’s parents for permission to marry?” I chuckled. “But you know Marco.”
He laughed. “I do. And I think it’s sweet. They’ll appreciate it.”
The waiter returned with my cappuccino, and I held the mug in both hands to steal its warmth.
“Is something wrong?” Jeff scrunched his eyebrows and examined me. “You seem a bit off.”
I lifted the mug to my lips and took a tentative sip of the scalding brew. “A little maudlin, that’s all.”
“About…”
“I’m ready to leave MIT,” I said, the closing of one chapter and the opening of another an emotional upheaval that tightened my chest. Tears prickled my eyes.
Jeff’s mouth formed a tight smile. He folded his hands on the table. “You sure?”
The urge to cry burned the back of my throat. “More than I’ve been about anything in a long, long time.”
His smile broke free of his restraint, and he reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “I am so happy for you, Anna. You deserve to feel fulfilled. You’ve worked too hard not to get up every morning and enjoy what you do.” His voice cracked and lips quivered, and his unconditional love and support opened the floodgates.
Tears spilled down my face, and I laugh-cried for several breaths, a huge grin plastered across my face. “Thank you.” I swiped the tears away. “Thank you for understanding. Thank you for getting this. For getting me.”
He took off his glasses to wipe the tears from his scruffy cheeks. “I’d be a horrible best friend if I didn’t.”
I laughed nervously, struggling with all the emotion.
The server came back with our caprese sandwich, and Jeff didn’t waste any time. He split it in half and lifted his portion to his wide-open mouth.
I chuckled. No, I didn’t want this part of my life to change at all.
“So,” he said through the mouthful. “What are you going to do instead?”
“Well…” I sunk my teeth into the sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “I think I’d like to take a month off. Enjoy not working for a change. Marco wants to go to Italy for a couple weeks. Says we need the break. I tend to agree.”
Jeff snorted. “No doubt. I wouldn’t mind a break myself, and I didn’t go through half of what you did.” He popped a few chips in his mouth. “But then what? I know you. You’re going to get real bored real fast.”
“No kidding. One month is about all the vacation I can handle. So, I was hoping…” I picked at the edge of my sandwich. “When I get back…” I lifted my eyes. “I could come work for you?” Jeff stopped chewing, the tremendous bite held in his cheeks like a chipmunk. “I want to join your team. Get assigned to jobs like the one I just finished. Go to sites, work with clients, solve problems. I want to be a consultant.”
His mouth arched into a smile that reached his eyes and wrinkled his crow’s feet. He finished chewing, and his smile broadened, smug and eminently pleased. “Liked it, did you?”
Satisfaction and gratification swelled in my chest when I thought about the job I’d completed for DEI. It also left a sinking sensation in my gut, the reality of the truths I’d uncovered a painful reminder that not all stories had a happy ending. Regardless, I had made an impact, and however painful, it had helped DEI and Marco. I couldn’t deny the depth of my newfound fulfillment.
“I did. I really did.” It was time to start the next chapter of my career. Time to get uncomfortable and explore new spaces. Time to challenge myself and shatter the beliefs that had held me back from realizing my dreams. “So, do I have a job?”
“Hmm. I don’t know.” Jeff leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms overhead. “I’m not sure you have the qualifications. I mean, you did transfer to MIT for your doctorate instead of staying at HBS.” His lips twitched through the barb.
I narrowed my eyes into a deathly glare, picked up a chip, and tossed it at his face. It bounced off his glasses and landed in his lap. He picked it up, popped it in his mouth, and chewed through a wicked grin.
“I love you,” I said, laughing at antics that hadn’t changed in twenty-five years.
“I know. I love you, too. And yes, of course, you have a job with CMG. Michael would divorce me if I turned you away.” He winked and reached for the final bite of my sandwich. “Are you going to eat that?”
“Yes!” I swatted at his hand. “God, you’re a bottomless pit! Michael is a saint.”
“Don’t tell him that. He already has a swollen head.”
“You love it.”
“I do.”
Jeff’s face lit up with affection, and for the first time in my life, I knew exactly how he felt. I finally had a deep, love-filled connection of my own.
* * *
Barren trees and melting snow sped past the passenger side window. The afternoon was overcast, gray clouds portending more snow, not uncommon for the second week of March. The turnpike was quiet, not a lot of traffic for a Saturday, and we drove in silence, enjoying the peace after the turmoil of the past month.
I glanced at Marco, and his handsome profile with its Roman nose and strong jaw sent a flutter through my chest. Months after our first meeting and he still evoked the same reaction, but now unconditional love accompanied lust.
I picked up his hand resting on the shifter between us. The big rock on my ring finger glinted in the afternoon light when he lifted my hand to his lips.
“I can’t stop staring at it.” I’d had the ring for all of two days, and I don’t think my eyes had left the four-carat ruby for more than a few minutes at a time.
“It’s a beautiful stone and given the amount of money I paid for it, please, stare at it as much as possible.” The corner of Marco’s mouth ticked up in a wry grin.
I pulled my hand out from his and swatted his shoulder. “I told you it was too much.”
“I’m joking, amore mio. It’s not even a fraction of what you deserve.” He glanced at me. “Or a fraction as beautiful.” He retrieved my hand and brought my fingers to his lips for another kiss, then rested our joined hands on his thigh.
We’d promised ourselves to each other the night we’d bonded in blood, and our commitment was as sacred as any human ceremony. Blood demons signified their bond with rubies not diamonds, the red gemstones a symbol of the blood shared between partners. He’d surprised me after lunch on Thursday by taking me to a private appointment at one of Boston’s most exclusive jewelers and telling me to pick out my bond ring.
I lifted my hand, holding it in front of me for the millionth time, and marveled at the simple setting around the beautiful stone. I couldn’t think of a more appropriate token of our love. “My mom is going to squeal like a teenager when she sees this.”
Marco chuckled. “I can’t wait to meet her. And your father. I can’t wait to thank them for bringing you into this world.”
My cheeks heated. The things he said to me.
As far as blood demons were concerned, we were married, the only thing left a party with his family and friends to celebrate our bond. But I hadn’t grown up in his world, and he knew how important it was to me to have a proper wedding with my parents and my small group of friends—Jeff, Michael, a few former coworkers from MIT, and now Siobhán. And Marco, being the traditional, over-the-top Mafia Don he was, insisted, “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”
“I can’t wait to meet your parents, too,” I said.
“And you’ll get to. At the wedding.” He gave me a quick glance and winked.
We’d decided to get married in Italy at the new property in Tuscany after renovations were complete. It wouldn’t be ready for another nine months to a year, but we weren’t in a hurry. We were already bonded, and that’s all that mattered.
“And spend more time with Gina. She’s lovely.”
“As long as the two of you don’t conspire against me, I’ll allow it.”
I snorted. I’d had lunch with Gina a few times over the past two weeks, and Marco and I had gone to his family home in the North End twice for dinner. She was a phenomenal cook, which after almost eighty years of practice, shouldn’t have been a surprise.
There had been tension, though, between Marco and Gina. An unspoken heaviness weighed on their relationship. It showed in the brief moments when they reminisced about the past or talked about family, and I knew it was because of Luca.
I chewed the side of my fingernail. “Have you heard any news about Luca?”
“No.” His reply was clipped and gruff.
“Have you—have you asked?”
“No. I told you. I’m done.”
“Gina isn’t.”
Marco’s jaw worked.
Despite his tough exterior, this thing with Luca was killing him. He’d never be able to walk away as easily as he wanted everyone to believe. Luca was his son.
He glanced at me and must have seen the concern in my face because he frowned. “Gina and Vinnie have known each other their whole lives. She’ll check on Luca herself.”
I didn’t argue even though I knew cutting Luca out of his life wouldn’t make him happy, not in the long run. Especially considering how it affected his relationship with his sister.
“I know you talk to Vinnie, now that you two have your…” I swallowed, still struggling to discuss Mafia matters with my husband. “Arrangement.”
“With conditions,” Marco interjected sharply.
“With conditions,” I amended.
Marco had been clear when he outlined the details of his newly formed alliance with the Valenzanos. There were non-negotiable conditions—no drugs and no weapons the two lynchpins. Vinnie and his crew acknowledged him as Don DeVita, marking his official reentrance into Cosa Nostra and establishing him as the head of a second family in control of the Boston Italian Mafia. He assured me, and I believed him, that his intention was to protect blood demons and their Sources from the feds, nothing more. He and Vinnie still needed to work through the details, and the new arrangement would be an adjustment, but he was already more at ease than he’d been since we’d met.
“Now that you have this arrangement, I know you talk to him, and I know he’s responsible for Luca’s future. You could ask.”
He placed his hand on my thigh and squeezed. He was quiet for several minutes, pensively staring down the long stretch of turnpike.
“I had to let Luca go, Anna.” His voice cracked, and the muscles in his jaw twitched, the telltale sign he was trying to control his emotions. “I can’t protect him anymore. I tried to raise him right, tried to do right by Tony, but that’s all I could do. He needs to live his life and accept the consequences of his actions.” He looked at me for a brief moment. “We all do.”
He was right, of course, and I was proud of him for admitting it. The weight of responsibility Marco carried for those he loved was heavy. And he loved so passionately and thoroughly. He’d finally let go of the impossible burden, and as difficult as it was, he’d known it was the only path to peace and happiness.
Our comfortable silence returned as we followed the off-ramp north toward Amherst. Soon, we exited the interstate into my old neighborhood and turned onto my parents’ street. Marco parked the Range Rover in front of my parents’ little slice of suburbia and turned off the car.
He reached across the seat, shoved his hand into my hair, and wrapped his thick fingers around the nape of my neck, pulling me to him. His lips moved tenderly over mine, and he slid his tongue into my mouth telling me how much he loved me with a slow, passionate kiss.
He leaned his forehead against mine. “No more talk of Luca or the Mafia or the feds or any of it today, okay?”
“Okay.”
“It’ll all still be there when we get home. I know things are messy, and I will deal with it, but today is about you and me and your parents. I don’t want the heaviness to ruin our time together.”
“Thank you.” I pulled away so I could look him in the eyes. I took his face between my hands. “I love you.”
“Good, because I plan on loving you for eternity.”