Page 31 of Highball and Chain

Enzo

The driveback to the villa seemed to take forever. Questions pinged around inside my head. How sick is my father? What did it mean for the wedding? How will Ma take the news if Pops…

I’d held Shanna’s hand since we’d left the castle. The physical contact helped take the edge off my panic, but I couldn’t help but worry how this would end. She’d admitted she hadn’t gotten over her father leaving her. As much as I wanted to believe things would work out between us, I knew I’d eventually be forced to do the same.

“Enzo…” She licked her lips. “Whatever happens, I’m here if you need to talk.”

“Thank you. That means more to me than you know.” I tossed my phone to her. “Gabe had the security code changed this afternoon. Call and tell him to open the gate.”

She fumbled with the cell. “Gabe, this is Shanna. We’re in the drive.”

The heavy wrought iron crept open, and I prayed the few precious seconds wouldn’t cost me the chance to say goodbye to my father.

I eased the car down the long drive and cut the engine. “I need to go inside.”

She enveloped my hand in hers. “I’m here for you when you need me.”

The gesture had nothing to do with lust or wanting something from me. Despite my disappearing act, she gave herself freely. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had shown me such tenderness. “You humble me.”

A hint of a smile crossed her lips. “I sincerely doubt that’s possible.”

Leo stood at the front door, waiting for me.

I sat frozen in place.

Shanna released my hand. “Go. I’ll be here when you’re finished.”

I climbed from the car and followed Leo inside.

Normally, my parents used the master on the second floor. They’d opted to sleep downstairs on this trip because of some bullshit about the honeymooners needing the larger room. I’d known the real reason, but until that moment I’d ignored it.

My father could no longer handle a simple flight of stairs.

“How bad is it?” I hated the way my voice quivered.

“He’s doing better, for now. They gave him something to help open his airways.” Leo led me into a small sitting room. “The stubborn fool wasn’t using his oxygen. He collapsed, but he’s breathing easier now that the docs have him using the face mask.”

I pushed the door open and scanned my brothers’ faces. Dante, the youngest, appeared to daydream near the window. Gabe and Marco stood with their heads together, whispering. Judging by their rigid posture, they weren’t discussing our father.

“Where’s Ma?” I glanced at Leo.

“Resting upstairs.” He leaned against the doorframe.

I turned toward the bed and struggled to make sense of the situation. Giuseppe Marchionni was the strongest man I knew. He’d run the family and the business with the ruthlessness of a third world dictator, but not even Papa Joe could defeat stage IV small cell lung cancer.

He’d lost weight over the previous months, but I hadn’t realized how gaunt he’d become. His skin sagged between his bones like linens draped over furniture in the summerhouse. I’d spoken to him yesterday and commented on his tan from days in the Mediterranean sun, but today the disease had stolen his color.

I sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand.

My father opened his eyes slowly like the slight movement took too much energy. “Lorenzo.”

“Hey, Pops.” I tightened my grip.

Gabe’s voice rose over the hiss of the oxygen machine. “I don’t give a shit what you have going on in New Orleans. You’re staying here with the rest of the family.”

“Like hell.” Marco glared. “I’m expected in the office on Monday. Someone has to run the company while you’re here.”

“We are staying,” Gabe said. “We all are.”

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