Weeks ago at dinner with Don Vicari, I’d stood up to the fucker when he was an asshole to Isabella.
 
 Because there was an unspoken rule:
 
 A man who won’t stick up for his woman is a piece of shit, unworthy of respect.
 
 And yet…
 
 I hadn’t stood up for Caterina.
 
 I hadn’t stood up for the woman I loved.
 
 I hadn’t evenadmittedto myself that I loved her until it was too late –
 
 But I’d known.
 
 I’dalwaysknown.
 
 It was just like Cat had said:
 
 I’d always treated her like a dirty little secret –
 
 Like a side chick instead of the woman I loved.
 
 Because I was fucking stupid.
 
 Because I wanted my ‘freedom.’
 
 Because I didn’t want to be tied down.
 
 But it all came down to one thing:
 
 I’d acted like a boy…
 
 Not a man.
 
 I’d failed the ultimate test of being a man, and the only one that fucking mattered:
 
 I hadn’t treasured the woman I loved.
 
 I’d let her down over and over and over again.
 
 Cat hadneverlet me down, not once –
 
 But I’d failed her every single time.
 
 I’d been stupid…
 
 And immature…
 
 And selfish…
 
 And I fuckinghatedmyself for it.
 
 It wasn’t Niccolo who was to blame; it was me.
 
 And now I was going to pay for it for the rest of my life.
 
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