Page 2 of Cruel Longing

I nodded. “All right. Then let’s go.”

Ciro was never far. Now that I wasn’t trying to evade his detail, his presence felt comforting. I often glanced toward him to make sure I knew where he was planted. We hadn’t spoken of Joey’s death since my kidnapping. I wondered if he mourned his co-worker. I had no way of knowing.

Gigi chose the restaurant.

“I’m glad we were able to leave the house. It’s been dreary since the funeral.” She reached for her wine glass. “I don’t mean that in a disrespectful way to Uncle Lorenzo, of course.”

“You’re right. It’s been fucking depressing.”

Gigi nearly spat the wine into her lap. “Okay, yes. It’s been fucking depressing,” she whispered.

I took a bite of grilled chicken. The waiter returned to refill our glasses.

“Tell me about New Orleans,” she prodded. “What was it like living there?”

Something about how she mentioned it in the past tense irritated me. It wasn’t as if I had moved back to Philadelphia. My things were still in my room at the compound. The closet full. My favorite blanket on my bed. My mother’s portrait still hung in the hallway outside Papa’s room. I had traveled with Papa to bring him home for his funeral and burial. I hadn’t come to terms that my life in New Orleans was over.

I knew I would have to return to pack up the life I had. A life that no longer existed.

“Nice.” I pushed the chicken around next to the steamed vegetables. “Hot.”

“Hmm. Any guys? Did you date anyone?”

I brought the wine to my lips and gulped. How did I answer that question? Any guys? No. Only one. The one.

“There must have been someone. Wasn’t Uncle Lorenzo trying to find a match for you?”

I tilted my head. “Is that something you recommend?”

Her face went white. “Amara,” she hissed.

“I was there on your wedding day to Danny. I’m just asking if you think our family’s way of marrying us off is still the right way.”

She refolded the napkin in her lap. “I have two beautiful children. I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

I pressed my lips together. “I’m sorry. Rocco and Eliza are great. They really are. I’m not saying they shouldn’t exist. I’m just asking if you had a choice… would you want to make it yourself?”

“That’s not the world we live in. We don’t get to have what we have at no cost.”

“You think that price should be our freedom? Our choice to love?”

Gigi leaned toward me, pressing her forearms into the table. The ruffles on her bodice nearly hit the plate. “I heard there was someone in New Orleans,” she whispered. “Is that why you’re asking me? To get me to ask Papa’s blessing for you?”

I blinked. “What? No. Absolutely not. No.” I shook my head. The reminder that not only had Luka rejected the marriage contract my father had proposed but also had fled across the ocean to get as far away from me as he could was like stabbing me in the lungs all over again.

“Because if you were interested in that guy in New Orleans, Papa would probably be sympathetic to you right now. I can ask.”

“No, Gigi. He’s gone.”

“Oh.” She looked surprised. “I hadn’t heard.”

“New Orleans is a complicated city. It’s not like it is here.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

It was a good question. Last night I had opened the window in the guest room, but instead of the cicadas I heard cars and the rhythmic beeping of trash trucks. I hit play on my jazz playlist. I wanted to order Moet and search the sky for shooting stars while sucking down a tray of oysters. This morning the coffee had been so bland I could only stomach one cup.

“Did you like it there?” she pressed me to understand.

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