Page 67 of Till Death Do Us Part

“Oh,lo lamento.” She shook her head. “That must have been hard.”

“It wasn’t. When you’re young, you think you know so much more than your parents. I didn’t want to live with her, but after a while, it was…comfortable. I think as adults we were able to be friends.”

Josefina smiled. “Her home is beautiful. We were there for Catalina’s wedding.”

I nodded.

“You’ve been through so much.”

“It’s been a whirlwind.” I took in the stunning views. “And that whirlwind is still swirling.”

For a while, we ate in silence. Perhaps my filter was broken, but when a question popped into my head, I asked it. “Did you have a choice to marryel Patr?n?”

“Everyone should have a choice of whom they marry.”

I didn’t respond.

“Mi padrebelieved in Jorge. He was honored when Jorge asked for me.”

“Were you honored?”

“Sí, he was the most eligible bachelor. And he wanted me.” Her smile faded. “You weren’t honored?”

This conversation had the potential to end badly. I chose my words carefully. “Dario believes in Aléjandro. Catalina too. She spoke about Aléjandro’s position—second toel Patr?n—as a place of honor within the cartel. And now, I can’t believe I’m here on this yacht. I wasn’tnothonored.” I tried to make sense of my twisted batch of emotions. “I just didn’t think I’d have to remarry this soon. I’ve been married since I was eighteen. I guess I was hoping to live first.”

“What does that mean…to live? Can you not live and be a wife?”

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “Not with Rocco.”

“Mia, that man is dead. I’m not insensitive.” She sat taller. “Tell me, was he a good husband?”

I picked at the food on my plate.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Josefina said. “If after ten years, he didn’t earn a place in your heart, then after his death he doesn’t deserve a place in your thoughts.”

There weren’t words to say—at least none that I could think of uttering. The truth was I’d thought more about Rocco in the past week than the first five months after his death. I was running every thought through my old Rocco meter.

Would he approve?

Would he be angry?

Would he react?

Was it better not to tell him?

Would he accuse me of deceiving him if he found out?

The questions went on and on.

“It has only been a short time,” she said, “and please, I’m not trying to…” —she pressed her lips together— “fish. I’m not trying to fish for intimate details. Just tell me, if your only two choices are good or bad, how is my Jano doing?”

Warmth filled my cheeks as I peered across the table. “Good.”

She sat back with a satisfied expression. “I always believed he would be. To be honest, he needed to grow up. How old was this rock when you were eighteen?”

Rock. Rocco.

I smiled.

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