Page 56 of The Killer Cupcake
She found the only window seat where she could still see them on the platform. Carmelo walked along the length of the train until he spotted her face in the glass, and despite his chipped ribs and battered body, he stood tall through sheer force of will and love. His smile was brilliant and heartbreaking.
She smiled back through her tears and pressed her palm flat against the warm window as the locomotive's horn bellowed its mournful song. The great wheels began their slow, steady churn, and she watched helplessly as Carmelo, Caesar, Janey, and Carmine grew smaller and smaller until they were nothing but memories disappearing into the Louisiana heat.
The train carried her away from everything that mattered, back toward a life that suddenly felt like a beautiful prison she'd built around herself. But his smile lingered in the glass, and his love traveled with her.
"Need anything, Champ?"Caesar asked, settling into the plush velvet seat beside Carmelo, who had claimed the window seat overlooking the platform where they'd just left everything that mattered.
In the whites-only luxury car, they were grudgingly accepted despite their thick Brooklyn-Italian accents—Carmelo's newfound celebrity opened doors that would have remained sealed to two Italian boys from Queens just weeks before.
"How long is the ride back?" Carmelo asked, not really caring about the answer. The men who'd accompanied themto New Orleans had departed immediately after the fight, but Carmelo's hospitalization and slow recovery had delayed their own departure.
"Day and a half, maybe less. No transfers—straight shot home," Caesar said, adjusting his position in the comfortable seat. He pulled his fedora down to cover half his face, preparing for sleep.
"You talk to Matteo while I was laid up?" Carmelo asked. Bedridden for days, he'd been unable to speak with his brother directly, though he'd been informed that Debbie had given birth the very night of his victory. Another Ricci soldier had entered the family.
"Nah. He's hovering over Debbie like she might disappear if he blinks," Caesar mumbled from beneath his hat.
"Hovering... or loving?" Carmelo's voice carried a note of understanding.
Caesar lifted the brim of his hat, studying his friend's profile. "Melo. Can I say something you probably won't want to hear?"
Carmelo didn't respond, which Caesar took as reluctant permission.
"Forgive me if I'm stepping out of line here. I know what you and Kathy have—I've seen it with my own eyes. It's real, it's powerful. But you took sacred vows,compare. Maria is a good girl, a decent woman. She adores you, tries to be the wife you promised to cherish. Why not give her a real chance? Why not give yourself permission to find happiness in the life you actually have instead of the one you can't?"
Carmelo's gaze shifted slowly from the window to Caesar, his dark eyes carrying a warning that could freeze blood. "Never speak to me about Kathy and Maria in the same breath again. Ever."
Caesar raised both hands in surrender and gave a respectful nod. "Understood,fratello. My apologies." He repositioned his hat over his face and settled back into silence.
Carmelo forced himself to breathe, to coil the sudden rage back inside where it belonged. But the damage was done—Caesar's words had slammed him back into the cold reality waiting in New York. Maria. His wife. The woman who shared his name and his bed and deserved so much better than the shell of a man who returned to her and slept on the floor each night. Carrying another woman's love in his heart like a sacred wound.
He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool window glass, watching the Louisiana countryside blur past in a green smear of everything he was leaving behind. The weight of his choices pressed in, and for the first time since the train pulled away from the station, he allowed himself to truly hate what he'd done for dearMadre.
Seven MonthsEarlier
Carmelo:
[Kneeling in shadow, voice graveled with exhaustion]
"Forgive me, Padre… I have sinned. Two weeks since my last confession."
Padre Vicente:
[Behind the confessional screen, weary but alert]
"The Lord awaits your contrition,figlio mio. Speak."
Carmelo:
"I… I married a woman. Her name is Maria. Ah, Maria Romero. Last month at St. Michael's. Full Nuptial Mass, white dress, my father's soldiers stood as witnesses."
Padre Vicente:
[Sharp intake of breath]
"Matrimonio? But your last confession spoke of Kathy—the girl in Harlem, who you lost for love?—"
Carmelo:
