Page 49 of The Devil's Demise

I turn to her, to the warmth in her eyes and I sigh. “I will be.” My lips turn up at the corners. “Everything takes time.”

“Yeah, it does,” she whispers, wrapping her arm around me and pulling me close. “We just have to get there.”

CHAPTER2

MATTEO

“Damn!”Dante whispers from behind me, staring at the paintings I’ve created of our family.

I had promised to paint each of them something, and I’ve been working on the artwork for a while. And today, while Aida is with her father, I decided to show them what I’ve made.

It’s crazy to believe that not only do I have my own home, but that my brothers are in it. I got so used to the basement, it was home to me, as fucked up as that sounds. But this place, with Aida, it’s home because she’s here and we’re happy.

“He’s like fucking Picasso, man,” Enzo adds, bewilderment laced in his tone. “Like legit, you’re good, bro. You should have your own gallery. Those rich folks would eat this shit up.”

I eye him from over my shoulder, arching a brow. “No.” I shrug it off. “Who the hell would want art by a nobody?”

“Every somebody was once a nobody. And you”—he claps me hard around my shoulder—“you’re far from a nobody. You’re a damn Cavaleri. And our name means something in this city.”

I let out a calming breath. “I wouldn’t even know how to make that happen.”

“Do you want it?” Dom asks, his eyes trapped with sincerity. “Just say the word and we’ll make it happen.”

I turn to face the multitude of colors, together forming the faces of my parents, my brothers and me too. We’re at the bakery in this one. It was an old photo; one we were all in together.

Could I really have my own place? To paint, to sketch what I want and make money for it? My own money?

Maybe. I do know I don’t want to run the business with my brothers. They already know that. It’s not for me. But Dom still insisted my name be added to the board of their nightclub chain, but I don’t actively participate.

Thisis what I love to do. Watching as a blank canvas comes to life. That’s what I love. Painting and drawing, it’s my therapy. It’s how I get through the reminders of the life before. I become one with it—my mind going elsewhere, while my hands do the work.

“So what do you say?” Enzo asks. “You want to be some fancy-ass artist or what?”

I let out a chuckle. “Yeah, I think I do.” I nod.

“Good.” Dom takes out his cell and starts typing. “I’ll have my secretary look for possible spaces. Give me a few days.”

“I’m not in a rush. I’ve learned to be patient.”

I return to my art, staring at all four pieces—one for Aida and me as well. I had each of my brothers go through the photos we got from Mrs. Cuzamano and pick their favorite so that I could replicate it for them.

Finding those photos, it has given us something we never thought we’d get back—a piece of the past. Something we can hold on to, even while so much has been ripped away.

“Incredible.” Dante practically chokes up, tracing a finger over Mom’s face. We were at the carnival, my mouth smeared with chocolate. I wish I had remembered that day, but I was too little.

“Thanks,” I tell him, my eyes going to the one I created for myself. It’s a simple one. My parents on the sofa, my brothers and me fooling around on the floor right at their feet, none of us looking at the camera. But Mom and Dad didn’t care. They were staring at each other with so much love, I could feel it. And I knew instantly, I wanted that kind of love in my house forever.

* * *

AIDA

“How’s Matteo doing?” Dad asks, passing some of the mashed potatoes Emma, his wife, had made for dinner. “Why didn’t he come with you?”

“He wanted to”—I grab a platter filled with roast beef and add it to my plate—“but he had to do something with his brothers.”

“Well, you make sure you tell that fine boy I asked about him, okay?” My father’s grin is wide when he talks about my husband and it makes my heart swell, knowing the two most important men in my life get along so well.

“I will, Dad.”

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