Page 27 of My Dark Ever After
Silence echoed between us like the aftermath of a nuclear bomb, poisonous and impossible to breathe through without wanting to gag.
“A friend,” I repeated, quiet but intractable.
“Where are you now, honey?” Mom asked, and I knew she had her arm on Dad as if she could physically restrain him.
I paused, wincing as the words came out of my mouth. “I’m back in Italy.” Then, over Dad’s blustering, I added, “I had to come back. Iknow you won’t understand, but when I left Tuscany, I left a piece of me behind.”
I figured it wasn’t truly a lie. I had left half my soul in Italy, not just behind Raffa’s breastbone but in the streets of Florence, in the fabric of Tuscany. It was easier to sell my parents on an epic love story than it was to tell them the truth.
The man I loved was an Italian capo, and the dangerous men who wanted to kill him had set their sights on me, so this was the only way to keep me safe.
“And your job?” Dad demanded. “I taught you better than to just walk out on your career, Guinevere. You’re leaving your clients and colleagues in the lurch with this stunt.”
And me,he was no doubt thinking but didn’t say.
That wasn’t why he was mad, really, but I addressed it all the same. “I’m more than willing to work remotely while I see out my two weeks’ notice. I know it was irresponsible of me, but I was scared. I almost died two days ago. Not because of any illness but because of violence. And my ...” What did I call Raffa?My boyfriendsounded too juvenile,my partnertoo platonic. “My man makes me feel safe. When he offered to fly me out on the next plane, I was still in shock, and it seemed like the only place I would be okay.”
“Jinx,” Mom breathed, devastated. “You’re safe here with us.”
“It hasn’t felt that way lately,” I admitted. “And part of that is my own fault for lying to you about coming to Italy in the first place. Whether or not you respect my choices, this is where I am meant to be for now. Gemma always followed her heart, and you never had a problem with it. I’m asking now for you to let me follow mine.”
“Gemma ended up dead at twenty-six,” Dad snapped harshly.
The silence that bloomed was acrid, like smoke from a dying fire.
“John,” Mom scolded quietly.
“At least she lived before she died,” I countered. “She traveled, she fell in love, she made mistakes. She was the most alive person I’ve ever known, and she made me realize how pathetic I was to let the fact thatI’d survived being sick be enough for me. Surviving isn’t good enough. I want to thrive.”
“You can thrive here, baby,” Mom coaxed. “Come home. You can move in with us again if you’re scared. We haven’t touched your bedroom.”
“Come back,” Dad said, his voice as raw as a bleeding wound. “Please, Guinevere. I know you think you’re safe there, but I promise you aren’t.”
“I’m staying,” I said firmly. “But the offer still stands, Dad. You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”
Another long pause, this one stale.
“At least tell us who you are with,” Mom asked. “I ought to know the name of the boy my daughter is in love with.”
I winced a little at the wordboy, given that Raffa was eleven years my senior.
“Raffa Romano.”
“What does he do?”
“H-he runs a multimillion-dollar business,” I admitted, which was true. It just wasn’t entirely legal.
“Oh,” Mom said over the sound of her clapping her hands together. “A wealthy, handsome Italian? I should have known nothing less would entice my romantic girl.”
“Mom! You don’t even know what he looks like.”
“Is he handsome?”
My pause made her laugh.
Dad was conspicuously silent.
“How long will you be there, though? Is this a vacation or ... You aren’t planning to stay there forever, are you?” she asked.
