Page 45 of The Butcher's Wife
And if Serafina and Russell really were together, that’s another woman in my family who chose a man who couldn’t be worse for her.
If I could turn off my attraction to Dom like a switch, wouldn’t I? Or is it written in my DNA to pick men who’re bad for me?
“Come on,” Dom says. “Let’s walk.”
Blades of grass poke through a frost-crusted hill behind the brick fence we almost drove into. Nearly invisible in the darkness, tombstones jut out of the ice like shards of broken pottery.
My breath catches in my throat. It’s a cemetery. I spot a placard on the iron fence above the bricks.Oak Woods.
Serafina’s body isn’t here.
Dom lays a hand on my shoulder before I can spiral down that line of thinking. I’m tempted to shrug his hand off, but I’m equally as tempted to lean into it, to kiss the blood off his knuckles.
He might be a fucking asshole, but he killed that guy for me. Mikey.
“You really need to get looked at,” I say after several long moments of silence as we stroll down the sidewalk like two midnight lovers. This is the first time we’ve ever been together, just the two of us in public like this, though there’s no one to see.
“I will soon.”
We pass a few other parked cars and a homeless man sleeping—at least I hope he’s just sleeping—on the sidewalk, before Dom finally says what’s on his mind.
“Why are you pretending to be your sister?”
I trip, stumbling forward at the same time that he shoots a hand out and snags the back of my coat. I turn to stare at him, open-mouthed, and he gently guides me forward.
“Keep walking,” he says. “And start talking.”
“What did Mikey say?”
Dom scoffs. “Cut the shit. I might be dumb, but I’m not that dumb. You and I both know I had my suspicions. I didn’t need Mikey to figure it out. This your idea?”
My mind flashes to my parents, hard-eyed in the soft glow of their living room while I stood out in the cold.
What have you done?Mom asked.
“Promise me,” I say. “Before we talk about this, promise you’ll keep my family safe.”
“I promise.” He doesn’t hesitate, and I don’t know if it’s the easy confidence of a practiced liar or of a person who knows an absolute truth about themselves.
I remember the way he held Carlo outside my bedroom door. He loves my parents and brothers. He’s always been a part of our family—I have to believe that.
“Mom,” I whisper, my mind spinning. My grasp on his coat loosens.
I wish he’d say something, but he’s completely silent as he waits for the rest of my confession—and of course he is. I’ve heard about what he does when he’s burnt out from work. He goes to the woods and hunts. The image of him, fierce and deadly, aiming an arrow at my heart in his kitchen, sends a frisson of heat through me, throwing my emotions off-balance. I can’t control it.
“She wanted to protect me,” I say in a low, slow voice. “She said I had to be Serafina.”
We’re walking next to a cemetery in the dead of night. Could someone be listening in, even now? My mind flashes with images—a boat, beer bottles, a flailing hand, an open mouth filling with water. Fear and pleasure stir deep inside me.
I continue. “Before I left Florida, my husband and I fought. I ran, and his family is after me now. They think I killed him.”
“Did you?” Dom asks.
I want to tell him the truth. I have to.
But the moment I do, I’m throwing myself at the feet of a man not known for mercy, who’s done little more than ignore me since I’ve moved to live with him. I want to laugh. What I’m thinking about doing is almost suicidal. Where else would I go? What other options do I have? He won’t accept a non-answer from me, and if he sends his boss to look into this, I’ll be especially screwed. Not even Valeria’s offer of cash could save me.
He wanted to know who hurt me when I had that nightmare. What feels like a lifetime ago, he promised me Aldo wouldn’t hurt me.
