Page 15 of Enzo
“Don’t worry, I’m being safe.”
“I’m sure you are, but my reputation isn’t,” I teased. “Don’t think I don’t know you use my name when the opportunity arises.” I cocked an unimpressed brow at him. I still didn’t know why he couldn’t just pick a random name out of a hat during his escapades. He looked away, sheepish, and I continued. “Now that I’m about to marry Penelope?—”
He turned his whole body to look at me. “You set the date?”
“Yes, Christmas Day.”
“Jesus, you’re really rushing it, huh?”
I shrugged. “Might as well, because if our secrets start leaking out, Luca DiMauro will never let me have her.”
“I see your point. Maybe I should do the same with Aria.”
“She’s had a crush on you since we were kids,” I pointed out. “I’m pretty sure she’ll take you in any shape or form.”
“True. It’s the reason I’ve kept my distance from her, but trust me when I say, her stalking skills are seriously disturbing. They rival even yours.”
I scoffed.
“Seriously though, Amadeo, it seems you’ve found yourself a match. Lock that down quickly so I can pass on the burden of your lunatic ass. I’ll be married soon; I won’t have time to bail you out of trouble.”
He punched my shoulder. “Watch it,fratello. I could say the same.”
We chuckled, but the sound vanished too quickly and was replaced with a familiar tense silence.
“Aren’t you worried?” Amadeo asked.
I raised my eyebrow. “About?”
“About what we just learned,” he explained. “We clung to the fact that at least half of us came from something good, and now we learn that he isn’t even our father?”
Anguish stretched in my chest, but I kept my expression blank. Amadeo needed reassurance, and I certainly wouldn’t be the one to feed his panic.
“Enrico and Enzo were brothers, so they couldn’t have been that different,” I stated slowly, keeping my tone measured. “Yes, it caught me by surprise, but it doesn’t erase the fact that this man raised us, protected us, and loved us. Honestly, I’m just regretful we didn’t find out it was our mother who wasn’t really ours, biologically. She’s the problem.”
He laughed bitterly. “If byproblemyou meanderanged psycho killer. She might not have succeeded, but that didn’t stop her from trying for years. We’re lucky to be alive.”
He was right.
In the early years, we’d both longed for the affection we saw other children receive. Every child needed their mother’s love, and for as long as I could remember, we both craved it.
When we were younger, we’d touch on the subject, but somehow we’d always drift away from it. We learned from an early age that strength was more important than feelings, so we naturally avoided talking about them.
Except, it backfired. It only festered and became insidious across all aspects of our lives. Maybe deep down we thought we weren’t worthy of anyone’s love, or we were simply a product of our environment and were fucked up beyond repair.
A mother’s love was instrumental in development, as Amadeo used to tell me after his therapy sessions. But it didn’t take a clinical psychologist to look at my brother and me and find us lacking in that department.
All I knew was that my obsessive nature was the result of our childhood, just like Amadeo’s panic attacks were a consequence of his, and we both knew to hide those parts of ourselves from the world.
“Aren’t you worried you’ll become her?” Amadeo’s question rang with the terror we’d wrangled since we were old enough to understand. “That you’ll lose your mind and attempt to kill your children, murder your spouse?”
“No.”Of course I am.“Amadeo, we must continue the Marchetti legacy. Isla doesn’t want the little ones in the Omertà, and I don’t blame her. It’s on us now.”
He nodded. “It’s the least we owe her and Father after all they’ve done.”
“But we’re also good at it,” I reasoned. “We’ll deal with our demons, but the world won’t know about it. If you feel like you’re losing it, you come to me.”
“Ditto, brother.”
