Page 57 of Bitter Prince
It took me a long time to pick myself up off the floor. I exited the bathroom full of ghosts and regrets with my eyes on the ground until I bumped into Papà.
He cast me a surprised look. “Reina, what are you doing here?”
The hem of my dress scrunched in my palm, I watched the man who we’d all worshiped and loved once upon a time. Maybe we still loved him. I wasn’t sure. He almost felt like a stranger. Someone we saw once in a while. He couldn’t possibly know us; he was never around.
“I… miss her,” I whispered, lowering my eyes to stare at my pink toes. Phoenix and I usually saw him only during holidays. Before this visit to Venice, I hadn’t seen him since Christmas. Before that, it was Easter. Over the years, we’d begun to see less and less of him. It was a disappointment and a relief at the same time. A very complicated feeling.
He sat on the covered couch, his black suit a stark contrast to the room covered in white. He looked tired, almost defeated.
“Sì, I miss her too,” he admitted. With softened features like this, he reminded me of his old self. The loving and kind father who never lost his temper. “She was a good woman. Loved you very much. You and your sister.”
I hesitated. I had a hard time reconciling this man with the one we now knew him to be. Twelve years of failing Phoenix and me resulted in distrust.
“Papà, am I—” My throat felt tight. His dark gaze found mine, his own ghosts clouding his eyes. The heavy feeling in my chest expanded and made it hard to breathe. I swallowed the lump. “Do you hate us?”
My throat tightened at the thought of finally hearing the words that I’d been dreading most of my life. That he didn’t love us. That he didn’t loveme.
A tear ran down my cheek, immediately followed by another.
“Do you hate me?” His shoulders tensed. Awkward silence suffocated the room. Too much animosity cloaked the air. It wasn’t only Phoenix and me who experienced loss the day Mamma took her life. Papà lost something too. So did Grandma. “Do you hate us?”
I heard him grind his teeth, and I mentally prepared for the worst. It never came.
“No, Reina.” He exhaled, pushing his hand through his thinning hair. “You look so much like your mother. Phoenix too. Sometimes… sometimes it hurts to look at you.” I noticed he didn’t say he loved me. He didn’t assure me that he loved us.
I rubbed the goosebumps on my forearm, suddenly feeling cold despite the summer heat.
“Is that why you left us with Grandma?” She told us she held a secret over Papà’s head, but my sister and I had never been able to figure out what it was. After years of digging, we gave up. Now I couldn’t help thinking she spun that lie to keep from telling us the uglier truth. That he didn’t want us.
He was silent—so silent—for a long stretch of time. My heart dropped.
“Your mamma wanted you and Phoenix to grow up with your grandmother,” he finally said. “It was better. Safer for you both.”
A pause. “Because you’re in the mafia?” I rasped, my chest hollow.
His eyes flickered in surprise. “How… how do you know this?”
I shrugged. There was no chance in hell I’d tell him Grandma slipped and revealed it to us. “I guessed, and you just confirmed it.”
He let out a heavy sigh. I noted his features and realized he’d aged two decades in the past year alone. It made me wonder what was causing him such stress.
“I wish I were a better man for you and Phoenix. I wish things were different.” A pause followed and a thought struck me. He was alone. He didn’t have Phoenix, me, or our grandmother. I hadn’t seen him with another woman. I never saw him with or heard him talk about any friends. He was utterlyalone. “But they aren’t.” He inhaled a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. “I’ve made many mistakes in my life. A day will soon come when I’ll have to pay for them.”
My brows knitted. “Are you in trouble, Papà?”
He shook his head and extended his hand. I reluctantly took it. I hadn’t seen this side of him since Mamma’s death. “Promise me one thing, Reina.”
The lines of his shoulders were as hard as granite, his expression dark. The image I’d once had of him was marred a long time ago, but I didn’t have the heart to deny him. “Anything.”
“Protect your sister.” A sharp ache pierced through my chest. Years ago, I received a similar request from a dying woman. “You’re stronger than Phoenix. You have the heart of a lioness, but Phoenix… she’s a kitten, and so vulnerable.”
He was wrong. She was stronger than anyone gave her credit for. But if he needed peace of mind, I’d give it to him.
“I will,” I murmured as pain spread through my chest. “I promise.”
He stood up and left the bedroom, softly closing the door behind him and leaving me once again with the ghost and the secrets. Maybe I was a coward, but it dawned on me that strength came in different shapes and sizes.
It didn’t matter which one of us wasn’t Papà’s daughter. It was on me to protect her. And for that alone, I’d never push the words I’d overheard all those years ago past my lips.
