Page 61 of The Artist and the Muse

Sebastian Cavalli apologizing was like a pitbull pretending to be a teacup poodle. You waited for him to tear out your throat once you let your guard down. While he wasn’t as intimidating as his brotherAntonio, Sebastian was still not a man to be messed with. Throw in his terrifying dog, Pasha, and he could be downright nightmarish. So why would he say sorry?

“Get in, then,” I suggested, gesturing to the taxi. “But make it fast. I need to get to NYU.”

He slid in next to me in the backseat. We gave the cab driver directions; Sebastian asked him to drop him off at his restaurant first while I told him to take me to NYU, since Cavalli's was on the way to the university.

“George, I shouldn’t have roped you into that money-laundering scheme. At the very least, I should have told you the truth about what I wanted to do before I dragged you into it.”

You think? I wanted to say. Instead, I said, “You should have. After everyone we were working with got thrown into jail, I thought I was going to be arrested, too.”

“Is that why you left for California?”

“You knew where I was this whole time?” My hands dug into my backpack straps.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you come after me? Weren’t you mad that I left?”

“I figured you realized the game was up, and I didn’t think you were going to call the cops on me. Besides, after the arrest, I started looking for more legitimate ways of making money, which led me to open the restaurant in New York. So in a way, we both moved on.”

“All this time, I thought you were going to come after me and exact your revenge… you’re telling me I never had to leave Italy to get away from you?”

“Revenge?” Sebastian’s eyes widened. “George, we’re friends, at least I thought we were. Yes, it was a mistake for me not to tell you that I wanted to use your art for money laundering. I shouldn't havelied and said I had found buyers for your paintings. I’ll admit that. But I never intended to hurt you, George. You were the only person I’ve ever shown my art to, for Pete’s sake.”

“You’re not getting off that easily.”

“I assure you, I had no intentions of hurting you, George. I know I shouldn’t have used your work as part of a criminal enterprise, but I suppose…” He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I suppose I was hoping for your forgiveness, even if we couldn’t have friendship.”

I frowned. “Why the change of heart?”

His gaze was distant for a moment, as he examined the view outside the taxi, the New York streets rushing by. “You may not believe me if I told you.”

Now that intrigued me. “Are you sure about that? Try me.”

“I told you my brother Antonio wanted to make the business legitimate after he got married.”

“A woman changed him?”

He shook his head. “Not a woman. God.”

“You don’t believe in God,” I said automatically. In all my years of knowing him, I’d never known him once to profess faith in God, or to speak of religion with anything but a disparaging tone.

Yet even as I spoke the disbelieving words, I felt foolish. Who was I to say that God couldn’t work a miracle to soften even the hardest of hearts? After all, He had certainly changed mine.

“I may not. But, I can’t deny that whatever force has changed my brother’s life and transformed his entire being can’t be entirely made up,” he acknowledged. “And if there is a God up there, then I’d like to hedge my bets by apologizing to those I’ve hurt.”

“So this is a spiritual investment?” I said with a light chuckle.

Sebastian Cavalli was always keeping me on my toes, that was for sure.

“Perhaps. But I trust you, George. You never turned me into the cops even after you found out I was laundering money.” He kept his voice hushed, though I doubted the cab driver would overhear our quiet conversation. “You always… You gave me more credit than I deserved, and for that, I’ll always be grateful.”

I’d never thought my trust in him was anything but foolish and naïve—but what if it had been what he needed? What put him on the path to turning his life around? In that case, perhaps I’d done the right thing.

“No need to thank me,” I said. “You’re my friend. Or, you were.”

“I’d like us to be friends again. I’m in New York still, and it seems like we’re in the same city again. I missed hanging out with you and talking about art. God knows how long it’s been since I’ve been able to do anything like that. I hope that with time… you might forgive me for what I did.”

“Why did you do it, though?” I couldn’t bring myself to let go of this burden I’d been carrying around until I understood his reasoning for luring me into his criminal scheme.

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