Page 88 of Frayed Bonds

“Angry? Was it that bad?” I know the answer. I’ve seen the boys fight before but the way Ambrose and Gus fought the night of the funeral was like nothing I’ve ever seen before.

“You’re going to think I’m a horrible person if I tell you the story, or at least you'll think I’m a horrible brother,” he admits, eyes trained on the plate in front of him.

“I’m not here to sit in judgement of you for whatever happened.”

“It isn’t a crazy story, but when my father had his heart attack, he was with Augustus handling business. Instead of doing the logical thing and calling for help, Gus froze and just stood there until one of the nearby store owners eventually called for an ambulance, but by the time they got there it was too late.” His jaw clenches and he’s not looking at me. His eyes haven't moved from the empty plate in front of him. “They said if he had gotten help sooner, he might still be alive today.”

“So you blame him.” I end, and he simply nods. I never knew the cause of Luciano's death but this is the furthest thing I could have possibly thought it would be. “I don’t think you’re a bad brother or person. I do think you have to realise that everyone deals with trauma in different ways. Some people are good in those sorts of situations and they can function, but others tend to shut down the way Gus did.”

“I know, I’ve heard it all before. I know it wasn't truly his fault but I can’t help it. Whenever I think about it all, I get so angry,” he says and I can tell he’s exhausted from feeling this way.

“Angry at Gus for not doing anything? Or angry because if your father didn't die, you wouldn't have all this responsibility now?” I ask, and he stares at me as if he’s never thought about it in that way. “I’m not trying to tell you how to feel or where to place your anger but whether Gus called for help or not that day, your time is your time, and your father was unfortunately meant to die that day. I went around in circles when my mamá died as well, wondering if we could've done more but at the end of the day it’s never in our control anyway.”

“I guess I just wonder what things would've been like if he survived that day instead.” Ambrose slumps back into the seat bringing his glass of wine to his lips.

“Well, I doubt we’d be sitting here right now,” I say and he nods slowly.

“No, I guess we wouldn't be,” he says.

The starters arrive as the conversation winds down and as I’m enjoying it, I realise an odd point. “Did your dad have heart problems? Because I can’t remember ever hearing anything.”

“No, he didn't, it was a sudden one. The doctors said it was brought on by stress and he definitely had a lot going on with me constantly making tabloid headlines,” he says sheepishly.

“To be fair, I didn't even know about the headlines until I got back into town so it isn’t like the entire world knew,” I smirk.

“Or you just lived under a rock, sweetheart…everyone knew.” he chuckles. But that’s all behind me now, I’m a changed man.”

“Oh yeah? Since when?” I scoff.

“When did you get here? Wow, has it almost been half a year already?” he asks, checking his phone, my stupid heart does the biggest cartwheel it ever has and for a few seconds, I feel like I’m having a heart attack and might join Luciano today.

“What made you ask about my scar?” I ask abruptly in the middle of our mains.

He freezes a fork midway to his mouth as if he’s wondering if he should even begin to indulge in this conversation again.

“I noticed it the first time at the family dinner, but recently …” He trails off and unfortunately confirms something I've been suspecting since this morning. First, it was the bags under his eyes but that coupled with him always acting a bit weird in the mornings, always checking if I was okay.

“The nightmares started again didn't they?”

His eyes are wide and he nods slowly. “You know about them? I thought you had always forgotten by the morning so I’ve never asked.”

“I don't have any recollection of them starting up but it must be because you're soothing me back to sleep, but when they happen, when I’m alone, I always wake up in fright as if I’d just lived them,” I say pushing my now unappetizing pasta around the plate.

“Do you know what triggered them again?”

I stay silent. Today is supposed to be a happy day, a day to celebrate, not one where I dig up my past and throw it out on the table.

“I’ve already trauma dumped so don’t think you’ll ruin dinner if you bring it up.”

I shake my head and take a deep breath. My vision is already blurring and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

“Shhh, come here.” He calls me over. Without hesitation, I walk over to him and he pulls me onto his lap and into his chest. The tears run down my cheeks freely and land on his chest staining the expensive suit jacket. His one hand settles on the side of my thigh while the other gently rubs my back.

“The whole relationship with Mattheo started pretty quickly, and I was head over heels for him–I’m sorry you probably don’t wanna hear about all that.” I sniff.

“Tell me everything, Valerie.” His voice is deep but not cold. Somehow it sounds like a warm hug that brings me enough comfort to allow me to carry on.

“I was obsessed with him and for a while I thought he was obsessed with me too but I was wrong. Anyway, at the start of the relationship, he’d always be busy in meetings and we would fly to so many countries for him to meet with different people but I didn't realise that the meetings were actually with really bad people.” I sigh and Ambrose squeezes my thigh gently encouraging me to carry on.

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