Page 55 of The Killer Cupcake
Love enveloped them both, deep and comforting, until at last they collapsed into each other's arms, wrapped securely in their shared warmth.
Rising Sun…
"What time does the train leave?" he murmured against her hair, his voice thick with approaching dawn and dread.
Awake now beside him, she stared at the window where the first gray light of morning crept through the lace curtains like an unwelcome visitor. "Ten o'clock," she whispered, the words tasting like ashes.
"They haven't decided on my next fight yet. Could be anywhere—Chicago, Philadelphia, even back to New York," he said, his voice heavy with resignation.
"Maybe it will be in the South," she offered, threading hope through her words like a lifeline. "If it is, I'll be there, Melo. Right at your side, no matter what."
"It's not fair." His arm tightened around her as if he could hold back time itself. "The things I've been forced to do, just to love you. None of it's fair."
"You keep saying that, but I remember when you genuinely loved boxing," she said gently, studying the tension in his jaw. "You used to talk about it like it was poetry."
His dark eyes—windows to his soul—met hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. Once again, she sensed he was carrying secrets too heavy for one man to bear alone. The weight of unspoken truths lived in his tortured gaze like shadows in deep water.
She touched his cheek, feeling the rough stubble beneath her palm. "What is it,Melo? What's truly being forced on you that you can't tell me?"
He was quiet for so long she thought he might not answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, as if saying the words aloud might make them more real.
"The mob, their traditions, the whole damn system—it's changing me, Kathy. Turning me into something I swore I'd never become. Moving me further away from the man you fell in love with." His eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I'm afraid of what I'm becoming. Afraid that one day you'll look at me and see him instead of me."
She understood without him having to name the specter that haunted them both—his father's shadow, the legacy of violence and corruption that seemed to claim every Ricci man in the end.
"Me too," she whispered, the admission torn from somewhere deep in her chest. "I'm afraid, too."
But even as she spoke the words, she pulled him closer, pressing her lips to his forehead in a promise she would love him through whatever darkness was coming because some loves were worth the fear, worth the risk, worth everything—even when you could see the storm clouds gathering on the horizon.
CHAPTER 23
TRAINS TO NOWHERE
The segregated train station felt gloomy and claustrophobic now that she was about to leave. The "COLORED ONLY" signs seemed to loom larger, more menacing, as if the very walls knew she was about to cross back into a world that would never accept her love. Carmine had paid the Negro porter handsomely to handle her luggage and ensure she received respectful treatment during the long journey ahead.
Here, Carmelo couldn't touch her, couldn't even stand too close. They weren't in Tremé among the Creoles who made their own rules, or in the Quarter under Sicilian protection. This was the Deep South, pure and unforgiving.
So he stood rigid beside Caesar, his hands clenched at his sides, dark eyes drinking in every detail of her face as if trying to memorize her for the lonely months ahead.
"Let me look at you one last time,ma chère," Janey said, fussing over Kathy's appearance with maternal precision. She smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her traveling dress and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. "Now you call me the moment you're home safe. We'll talk once a week—call collect, I can afford it. You hear me?"
Kathy's gaze drifted to Carmelo, her eyes already brimming with unshed tears. "I hear you, Auntie. And please watch over Willa. I'm terrified for her."
"I will,chère. Trust me. Might even bring her to Butt's myself for a visit," Janey said with forced lightness.
They both knew it was a beautiful lie. Willa was lost to them now, claimed by forces beyond their control. Just as fate had claimed Kathy's heart and given it to a man she could only love in stolen moments.
Desperation seized her—she started to move toward Carmelo, ready to defy the entire segregated South and throw her arms around his neck. But Janey must have recognized the rebellion building in her niece because she stepped swiftly between them, blocking her path.
"Get on that train right now, Kathy," Janey commanded, her voice carrying the steel of a woman who'd survived worse separations. "You don't want this kind of trouble. You had your time with him. You'll have it again. I’ll make sure of it.”
The tears came then, hot and bitter. When she dared look at Carmelo, she saw Caesar's restraining hand on his arm, holding him back with the strength of brotherhood and hard wisdom. Both stood on the knife's edge of breaking, their love and frustration radiating across the platform like heat waves.
She accepted her small traveling bag from Janey with trembling fingers and walked toward the rear of the train where the "COLORED" car waited. As she stepped up onto the metal block and climbed the narrow steps, she turned one final time to see her champion.
Carmelo stood there with tears of repressed rage and lost love gleaming in his dark eyes, his powerful frame still bearing the evidence of his recent battle. Despite his injuries, despite everything keeping them apart, he gave her a slight nod—a promise wrapped in sorrow.
In one act of defiance against the world that would tear them apart, she pressed her fingertips to her lips and blew him the kiss she couldn't give in person before disappearing into the segregated car.
