Page 88 of Bitter Poetry
The coach grunts and tosses a couple of towels at us.
Adam has his own demons he’s dealing with. And contrary to what he said about not letting me hit him, I’ve seen him in action when he’s putting one of his mentees through their paces—he could wipe the floor with me even after his career-ending injury.
“You two are a match made in heaven,” the coach offers his pearls of wisdom as he fishes in his pocket for a cigarette. He lights up and turns to leave, calling over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”
“He really needs to stop smoking.”
Adam’s lip’s twitch. “Have at it.”
“You’re the manager.”
“You’re the owner.”
I mean, he’s not wrong… I duck out of the ring, Adam following. Leon enters from the reception, passing the coach who’s on the way to his office.
Leon gives Adam a nod and smirks. “I told you he was in a mood.”
“We need a Dante warning code,” Adam replies, fist-bumping Leon. “Like overcast with seventy percent chance of aggression. Catch you both later.”
He heads off to shower. I’m still dripping sweat, but I sense Leon isn’t paying a social visit, so I wait.
“Ettore sent a message. He wants you at his home for a meeting,” Leon says, giving me a hard look. “You going to be okay with that? Or want me to go and offer your excuses?”
“No,” I say, slinging my towel around the back of my neck. “I’m ready. I can handle this.”
“You sure?”
His eyes search mine. I know what he’s asking without asking—can I handle being around Carmela…? Even if I don’t see her, which I expect I won’t, I’ll be in her space, close to temptation.
Can I handle it? My response exited my lips before my brain had engaged. It’s been over a year since the wedding—since I last saw her—but the pain is just as piercing, and Leon would be right to question me.
Just because Ettore is calling me in for a chat doesn’t mean I’ll see her, but I might, and being around Ettore won’t be much easier. He’s been very much a hands-off kind of don and usually sends Rocco over here for an update once a month.
I start walking toward the locker room. Leon falls in step beside me. Inside, I hear the water running in the shower as I stalk over to my locker. Leon parks his ass on the bench as I rummage through the contents, dragging out my things.
I toss the sweat towel into the nearby hamper and meet his eyes. “The truth? I don’t have a clue if I can handle being close to her, knowing she’s under the same roof, or has existed in the same space recently. All of it will fuck with me.” I peel my top off. “It’s been a long year. There are minutes, sometimes days, when I can force what happened from my mind, but they don’t come along often.” I thumb in the direction of the running shower. “Adam helps. Being here helps. Every deal we make, every time we review the figures, and see our profits are up, our investments sound, the meetings with our peers, all help me to keep focused on the end game. But I don’t forget, and I will never forgive. At some point, I will need that retribution.”
“I’m going to be right there with you, looking for that retribution,” he says. “My father’s death wasn’t an accident, and all the roads lead back to Ettore.”
I scrub a hand through my sweaty hair. “I’m going to shower. When is the meeting?”
“This coming Friday.”
I strip the rest of my clothes and head into the shower. As the hot water pelts me, I’m not thinking about the rest of the conversation I need to have with Leon, but Carmela. About how I abandoned her to him. I want her. It never goes away, a burn low in my belly, a restless sickness I can’t shake off.
Time has passed. Maybe she has come to care for Ettore. Maybe my plans are about to screw up her life for the second time…
I don’t want her to be changed, nor for her to have changed her mind about me and us. That’s the bottom line, the unholy fear that grips me in the still of the night.
I’m stuck here.
She’s there with him.
Is she still the same? Has it changed her?
I fucking must have done.
I get updates from Christian occasionally, but, through necessity, we agreed to keep them to a minimum. He doesn’t talk about her when we do catch up, and I’ve made a point not to ask.
