Page 89 of Vicious Addictions

Her gaze softens as if the explanation is more than enough for her.

“Let me guess? Marcello again?”

I let out a long, weary exhale at how quickly she remembers every insecurity, doubt, and tribulation related to my family.

“It’s his birthday next month. He turns thirteen a week before Thanksgiving,” I say, running my fingers through her hair. “He’s changed so much over the years—and not in a good way. Every time I talk to him on the phone, it feels like another piece of the boy I once knew has been chipped away. He used to have this smile that lit up his eyes, but lately, whenever I see him, that light seems to fade more and more.”

“Have you talked about this with your father?”

“He’s no help.” I scowl. “In fact, anytime I bring up Marcello’s name, he shuts me down. It’s starting to piss me off. I feel like they are both hiding something from me.”

Mina takes in my words and chews on them for a bit before giving her suggestion. “You can always go home for his birthday? Maybe even spend Thanksgiving there. I’m sure your family would be thrilled to see you again.”

“They see me just fine,” I retort, not wanting her to use her powers of persuasion in this regard.

Though I yearn for home, the thought of leaving Mina behind weighs heavy on my heart.

Again, you’ll have to sooner or later.

“Facetiming your family isn’t the same thing, and you know it.” She giggles, giving my chest a little slap and pulling my attention back to her. “They can’t hug you over the phone. They can’t see what a wonderful man you’ve become.”

“You can. That’s all that matters to me. How you see me. Nothing else.”

Her eyelids droop a little before she nestles her head on my chest.

“Tell me more about them again. About your family,” she sussurates, drawing circles over my heart with her finger, knowing damn well it’s hers to play with.

I wrap my arms under my head and smile.

“Haven’t you heard enough about them?”

“No.” She smiles. “I want to know it all so that when we finally meet, they won’t feel like strangers to me. They’ll feel like family. Like you are to me.”

I’m thankful she can’t see the frown that just curled at the corner of my lips.

She’s breaking my heart and doesn’t even know it.

“Jude,” she whispers after I’ve grown silent for too long. “Tell me.”

“Okay,” I relent, knowing she won’t let this go.

“You already know that I’m the eldest and that Marcello was born ten years later.”

“Because your mother ran away from Chicago because of that psycho Ciro, right? And married James instead? Your stepfather?”

I nod, a smile returning to my face at the mention of the man who has raised me as his own since birth.

“That’s right. But once my mom married my father, they didn’t waste much time in making a bunch ofbambinis.”

“I love it when you speak in Italian. It’s so sexy,” she cajoles before placing a kiss on my chest.

“Oh yeah? You never told me that.” I smirk.

“You never asked.” She laughs, the melodic sound a danger to my heart.

“Ti amo così tanto, amore. Non c’è niente che non darei per trattenerti. E come mi tormenta la certezza che ti perderò. Il mio cuore sanguina per te. Il mio cuore sanguinerà sempre per te.”

“Hmm. That’s beautiful,” she hums, lifting her head just to look at me. “What does it mean?”

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