Page 65 of Lies like Rubies, Part One

Sofia looked like a fucking vision. She always did. Today she wore slacks and a sweater, not a single blonde hair out of place. She lifted Lizzie into her arms and giggled. “I missed you too, sweetheart! It’s been a whole ten hours since we’ve seen each other!”

Grief, hot and fierce, swept through me. I wished I could protect her from everything, sweep Sergio and Dante out of her life, and make her parents see her value. Quickly, I wiped the emotion off my face, smiling at her as she noticed me on her couch.

“Hi,” she said, then shook her head, as if ridding herself of unpleasant thoughts. “Sorry, Lorenzo, I’m sure you’re not here for a social visit. Give me a moment to get Lizzie and Miss Carolina squared away?”

Miss Carolina smiled, “That won’t be necessary. I’ve got Lizzie for the evening.”

Sofia’s eyebrows shot to her hairline as she pivoted to face me, waiting for an explanation with Lizzie propped on her hip.

“When’s the last time you went to the range?” I asked her, my heart aching for the load she carried by herself as she gently set Lizzie on the ground.

“Miss Carolina, would you play with Lizzie in her room for a moment?” Sofia asked, her midnight blue eyes holding mine, filled with pain and worry.

Miss Carolina gathered Lizzie to her. “Let’s go build a tower.”

Lizzie whined and held on to her mother, and Sofia took a deep breath, her gaze flicking between her daughter and me. “Sweetheart, I need to talk to Uncle Lorenzo about grown-up things, alright?”

Her daughter burst into tears.

Sofia’s agonized gaze met mine. I needed to know she could still handle herself with a gun, but I sure as hell wouldn’t make her choose between her kid and me. Ever. “Another night,” I said, standing and forcing myself to smile.

“No,” Sofia said sharply. “I mean—” She blinked, and I thought I might have seen a tremulous wobble in her eyes, a sheen of tears that she fought to hold back. “Stay, please.”

She carried Lizzie to the sofa and sat beside me. Unable to discern what was going in her head, I slowly took my place beside her, leaving space between us.

Sofia quietly shushed her daughter, rubbing Lizzie’s back and murmuring sweet words of love in her ear. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You can stay, okay? Uncle Lorenzo and I will talk later.”

Lizzie sniffled and looked up at her mom. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I won’t, Lizzie, not tonight,” Sofia promised her, meeting my eyes. She looked over at the kitchen where Miss Carolina had returned to cooking dinner and took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “Miss Carolina, why don’t you head home?”

My heart pounded with surprise. Miss Carolina’s disapproving glare worked me over before she finally acquiesced, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ll finish making dinner,” I said, kissing Lizzie on the head and daring to squeeze Sofia’s shoulder.

The reward of her soft smile weakened my knees. When was the last time she looked at me like that, with trust and gratitude and affection? “Thank you,” she murmured, settling Lizzie onto the couch beside her. “C’mon, sweetheart, let’s find a cartoon.”

The sounds of Lizzie’s favorite cartoons filled the apartment as I examined the meal preparations Miss Carolina had left me. Stir-fry.

I checked the rice, then turned up the heat on the frying pan, watching Sofia cuddle with her daughter out of the corner of my eye. As Lizzie calmed down and settled into her mother’s arms, Sofia slowly relaxed, the tension leeching out of her shoulders.

By the time I finished making dinner, Lizzie had moved off of her mother’s lap to watch T.V. and Sofia dozed. Warmth settled deep in my chest—she trusted me enough to fall asleep. I made two plates, then walked to the sofa, nudging Sofia’s knees with mine to wake her up.

God, I wanted to bottle that soft look on her face as she swam to consciousness, sexy and mussed, so I could keep it with me always.

I handed her a plate. “Thanks,” she said, her voice husky and sleep-filled.

I set the other on the coffee table. “C’mon, Lizzie,” I said, dragging her to the other side of the couch. “Are you ready for dinner?”

Lizzie giggled. “No! I want tickles, Uncle Lorenzo!” Giving in to her demands, I commenced a tickle fight that had Lizzie shrieking with joy. She was a great kid, and none of us gave Sofia enough credit for raising Lizzie on her own, much less in the dangerous world the Russos inhabited. Regret poured through me, for the time I’d missed with both of them, and I resolved to do better. Even if Sofia never forgave me, I wanted to be more present in Lizzie’s life.

Sofia’s eyes never left us, but they never hardened, never froze, never changed to the blank veneer of courtesy that I’d seen from her for the past four years. I’d do anything to have her look at me like that forever, but I knew it couldn’t be the case. I owed her father too much, and I’d been too cruel when she’d been brave enough to set aside what anyone else thought.

Eventually, I convinced Lizzie to eat. Sofia turned on her charm to keep the conversation light, and I mourned the loss of the softness she’d trusted me enough to show for a short while. As I fed Lizzie bites of rice and stir-fry, we spoke of books, music, and movies like we used to when she was a kid.

After she finished homeschooling, Sofia dove into literature and film as an escape, while her parents kept her locked away, refusing to let her attend university for fear that she’d leave them like Ginevra had.

For lack of anyone else to chat with, she’d roped me into conversations about everything and nothing as she pushed me to read more, watch more movies, and notice more so we could critique them together.

As if she were reliving the same memories, our gazes collided, and the veneer of ice melted for a moment. Her tongue darted out to catch a drop of sauce, and I fought the urge to lean over and catch it with my thumb.

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