Page 67 of Till Death Do Us Part

“You ever drink so much you get numb, but all your problems keep knocking on the door, reminding you that they’re there? Let me just say, if you haven’t, I don’t recommend it.”

“The food didn’t help?”

“A little. I think I stopped slurring aftersssteak.”

A couple of beats of silence fell between us, but her thoughts seemed loud. Maybe she needed to air them out and set them free.

“You’re worried about your parents?”

She blew out a heavy breath, opened her eyes, and sat up. She held her hands up to the vent. “My parents. Money. My life. Money. What’s left of me, guilt takes. My dad is getting worse. My mom struggles to take care of him while working from home. She’s burnt out because of the stress. And here I am in the city, living it up.”

“You help. A lot.”

“As much as I can. I’m thinking of giving up my apartment, quitting school and the museum, and moving back home. I can’t seem to catch a break lately.” She stared into the side mirror, like she was hoping it would have all the answers to her building problems.

Elsa lived in an apartment in China Town. It was small, but she said it felt like home. She loved her landlords and the area. I knew she struggled to keep up with everything, including finishing her latest degree while helping her parents.

“I know that guilt,” I whispered. “Mine is different, but I get it. It’s not easy to want a life of your own while also needing to help with family. If you give to one, you’re neglecting the other.”

“I figured you’d see me,” she said.

“I do.”

She sighed. “Mind if we talk about something else?”

I brought up the ballet and asked her if she’d ever been. We were going to seeThe Nutcracker. She told me she’d been once when she was around seven. She returned the question, and I told her we went almost every year.

“One in particular stands out the most to me, though. The year before Mamma died, she planned a trip to New York for all of us girls and her. It wasn’tThe Nutcracker,but Scarlett Fausti was the lead. My sisters and I were excited because it was a surprise that we were going to see one of her performances. Tickets to her shows sell out. It was a magical trip.”

“I’ve seen snippets of her performances online,” Elsa said. “She’s got real talent. But her marriage to Brando Fausti sometimes overshadows her career.”

I didn’t say anything. I had a feeling Uncle Tito had gotten the tickets for Mamma. He was married to a Fausti, so he knew them personally.

Elsa reached in the back seat and snatched her bag. She dug around for a second before she hooked her phone up to my audio system. A second later “Tiny Dancer” played. We both started to sing along.

The impact of another car crashing into Elsa’s side made me scream. The sound of metal screeching and groaning sounded like it was coming from inside my head as we flipped over three or four times, everything not belted down hitting us, before the last flip had enough momentum to right us. My shoulder hit the window, then I was slammed back into the seat, and it seemed like I’d forgotten how to breathe.

The dinosaur Lo had given me was still on the dash, his heading bobbing maniacally, the song slurring, dragging, like a record that was about to give out.

I looked over at Elsa, but she was out cold. Her head was bowed, and blood dripped from somewhere. Snow flew inside her shattered window.

My hands squeezed the wheel but trembled at the same time. I couldn’t stop staring at them, until I heard a horn. It sounded like it was coming from a tunnel. A glaring light hypnotized me for a second.

I hit the gas, but a delivery truck coming for us on Elsa’s side clipped us. We went spinning, and I lost control.

The building came up fast, and we crashed.

Chapter23

Felice

The look on baby-boy Jack’s face when I left the rooftop was fucking comical. All we’d put up were our watches, both from our inheritances, and I’d won. But he was suspicious. The wager wasn’t high enough, though both timepieces were collectable items, and he thought I was conning him somehow. His stake didn’t need to be high. I’d already won the woman he was positive was going to be his wife.

My mood darkened when the memory of her smiling at him hit me like a truck. Jack could be a charming little asshole when he wanted to be. Some people thought he was my son.

I wasn’t sure where to put this feeling I was having a hard time fucking identifying.

Was it jealousy?

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