Page 16 of The Mafia's Surprise Gift

“I brought you some flowers. Daisies, like you love. Loved.” A wave of foolishness washed over me, and the silence after I stopped speaking felt even louder.

How did people do this?

I stared down for a few seconds, then I crouched and placed the flowers just beside his gravestone with the stems in the dirt. Maybe that would help keep them alive.

Standing, I clutched at my forearms and forced myself to speak.

“Zack misses you. I mean, I don’t think he fully understands, considering how young he was when you—” A static rush of emotion flooded up my throat. “When you passed. But he has some memories of you. He’s spending the day with Mom. All this time, she was so indifferent about a visit, but now that they’re together, they’re inseparable.” I smiled, imagining my father’s deep, hearty chuckle. “He looks like you sometimes, in a certain light. If I got him glasses and dyed his hair gray, it would be uncanny.”

The more I talked, the less awkward I felt and things started to pour.

“My job still sucks,” I said. “I got a pay raise, but it turned out it was just a company-wide thing and not because I’d done anything special. But if I play my cards right, I might get assigned to an actual lawyer rather than working down in the briefing room. Lots more to learn.”

I lifted my gaze and glanced around, aimlessly eyeing all the other headstones I could see. There really was no one else around, and a sharp pang of sympathy shot through my chest. It was painfully easy to tell which graves were still lovingly tended and which had fallen victim to time.

“You remember Denise? My best friend? She’s getting married in the fall, can you believe it? He seems nice. We’ve had dinner a few times, and Zack likes him, so…” I shrugged and slowly rubbed my palms together. “Zack’s a little brainbox too. Top of his class and everything. I wish you could see him.”

Those words left me, and another tight band sealed around my chest. Warmth prickled behind my eyes and on my next blink, the world blurred around me.

I missed him. I missed his advice, his warmth, and the comforting looks he would give me each time I argued with my Mom. I missed the silent conversations and the understanding that my mother was a hard woman to deal with but she meant well. Deep down.

“I miss you,” I croaked out softly, hastily wiping away a few of the tears that escaped me when I blinked. “I miss you so much. And I’m…” Emotion fizzed behind my nose. I screwed up my eyes and sniffled. “I’m sorry for what happened. If I hadn’t moved to the city, then maybe… maybe you’d still be here.”

I don’t know when this pain was supposed to get easier. As the days went by, the agony of losing my father didn’t fade. It just shifted inside me. Everything else tucked around it a little better, but the heartbreak remained forever, a tight knot in my heart that I would carry for the rest of my life.

“I’m so, so sorry,” I wept, stepping forward and lightly touching his headstone. “I’m sorry.”

Emotions I didn’t even realize I was carrying poured forth, and I cried into my hands for a few long moments. Nothing comforted me, and I would have cried for hours if a distant crunch of gravel hadn’t pulled me out of my weeping. Several rows away, a woman clutching roses to her chest flashed me a familiar smile.

The smile of sympathy that shared pain but asked not to be disturbed.

I couldn’t smile back, and she turned away too quickly for me to even offer a small, sad wave. Sniffling, I watched her trudge up the path and melt behind a crypt, vanishing and returning me to my silence. The break was enough for me to reclaim a handle on my emotions.

I dried my tears, sniffled deeply, and cleared my throat.

“Bye, Dad. I’ll come see you again. And I’ll bring Zack.”

I ran my fingers under my eyes again and then turned, ready to head back to my car, when I spotted a figure standing next to me about a yard away.

He stood tall, his black shirt stretched over his clearly muscular body. The top two buttons hung open, exposing golden skin just underneath. A white belt offset his black pants, and white shoes anchored his wide stance.

Honey-gold eyes locked onto me, and plush lips twitched at the corners when our eyes met. Then, a subtle, soft smile settled amid the dusting of dark facial hair around his sharp-angled jaw. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his slacks, and a black hat with a dark satin ribbon sat atop his head.

It had been seven years since I saw that face, and while age had changed it—making him look much more rugged and refined—I would recognize him anywhere.

Rocco Adami.

How long had he been standing there? How long had he been watching me crying my eyes out over a gravestone?

“Mary,” Rocco said.

Like a leash wrapped around my gut, his voice dragged me right back to our wild night. That deep way he looked into my eyes and the all-consuming way he kissed me like he was trying to imprint onto me. I felt twenty years old again and at the mercy of his stunning good looks.

“It’s Mae now,” I replied tightly. My voice was rough from my crying. I straightened my back, not that it made much difference since he was over a head taller than me. He looked like a real man now. Back in college, I thought he’d always looked like a mature man, but now, in comparison, he was just a boy.

“Mae,” Rocco repeated. The way his lips pressed together, it was like he was savoring the taste of my name, and his eyes twinkled slightly. Then they moved to the gravestone next to me, and I saw a flicker of surprise dart across those handsome features.

“Your father,” he said softly, a note of sadness in his voice. His eyes locked back onto mine, and I suddenly forgot how to breathe. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

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