Page 79 of The Vanishing
“I think it’s a huge relief that Domenico is responding well to our mixed blood, and Nino and Haruka’s. One less thing to be stressed about.”
He sits back hard in his seat, shaking his head. “Hugerelief. God. All these years I’ve had to suffer alone. And listen to this—the doctor called me an hour ago and said he thinks Father’s biology is beinghealedfrom this mix of all of us. Something about the combination of me, Nino and our mates is making him stronger than he’s been in decades. Can you believe this shit? Fuck me.”
“Just focus on the positive.” Cellina smirks as he lifts his menu to read. She watches him in silence. Since they’ve bonded, he’s unquestionably more relaxed—the frown lines in his forehead almost invisible. It’s nearing the end of the busy season for the art gallery and Cellina is a little worn down herself.
“G.”
“Yes, beautiful.”
“Have you ever been on vacation?”
He looks up from the menu. “What’s that?”
“Stop…”
“How did you pronounce it again? Vay-kay-shon?” Giovanni laughs, setting his menu down. “I know what a vacation is, but I might as well not.”
“Okay…” Cellina folds her arms against the table, leaning in. “What’s your dream vacation?”
“Tanzania.”
Cellina narrows her eyes, suspicious. “Are you sucking up to me right now?”
“No.” Giovanni laughs. “When we were kids, you would go to your aunt’s estate in Zanzibar for a month every winter, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“When you came back, you painted this vivid fucking picture of the white sandy beach and the turquoise sea just outside her property. The exotic birds and palm trees. So I always wanted to go there and see it for myself.”
Cellina blinks, impressed. “Huh. You remember that?”
“I remember everything about you. I remember the first time you came to the house with your hair straightened in the late thirties. I remember overhearing you telling Nino about how much you loved Boyz II Men and Guy in the nineties, so I bought both albums and ended up loving that shit, too. I remember you dated that little second-gen prick Carlos Russo in the early 2000s that owns that popular seafood restaurant in Navigli. To this day I won’t set foot in his restaurant and he has no idea why.”
“The first two were sweet.” Cellina smiles, shaking her head. “But the last one was petty as hell.”
“I’mpetty as hell.” Giovanni frowns in a kind of smile. “Fuck him. He’s lucky to be alive.”
They both laugh, but Cellina composes herself when the waiter returns to take their drink orders. When he leaves, she turns back to Giovanni, amused. “So you kept track of all the vampires I’ve dated and have covertly held grudges against them? Was this some kind of romantic gesture? I would prefer roses.”
“Yes and no.” Giovanni grins, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just jealous. And overthinking. Lying in bed at night—because that’s the only time I’ve ever had to myself—stressed about you bonding with some loser who was beneath you, and how I could put on a happy face, attend your wedding and congratulate you without throwing myself off the nearest skyscraper immediately after. But with you feeding Nino for a century, I knew you couldn’t offer your blood to anyone else while he was still leeching off you.”
“Not leeching,” Cellina scolds, even though Giovanni is somewhat right. That had been a constant point of contention throughout her dating life. It’d been difficult to explain: “Sorry, I can’t offer my blood because I’m my best friend’s source. No, we’re not romantically involved. No, we’re not bonding. He’s emotionally traumatized and I just have to support him. That alright with you?” Her relationships never lasted very long, but she’d never been too attached to anyone, either.
That is, except for the male sitting beside her. He always lingered in the back corner of her mind and heart. She ignored it for years—ignoredhim. He was always there though, occupying space.
Giovanni folds his arms. “I suppose in a way, he ended up helping me. I’ll never say it though… little cockblocking bloodsucker.”
“You being rude to Nino is getting old—what did you do to make him show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night a few weeks ago?”
He pauses, the guilt written all over his face. “He didn’t say anything?”
“No, he didn’t. I could tell he was upset, but he told me he supported us and that I should call you. I didn’t, but an hour later you showed up on my doorstep anyway. Spill it.”
Giovanni exhales a deep breath and looks away, keeping his mouth shut. Cellina smirks. “You don’t want to tell me because youknowyou did wrong.”
“Not wrong. But maybe… harsh.”
“Listen, Nino is doing fantastic, right? He’s not latched to my hip anymore or hiding in your estate. He’s bonded with an incredible creature who adores him and would do anything for him. He has his own business and contacts in a new realm, and you even admitted that you were impressed with what he’s established for himself. He went all the way to Yemen to help rescue enslaved vampires and solve a long-standing cultural mystery! Will you cut him some slack? You totally yelled at him, I know it. He’s not a kid—if you just talk, he’ll listen to you.”
