Page 64 of Of Grief And Gratitude

“Same reason everybody else is here,” Niccolò said gruffly. “To be seen.”

I stood and listened to the siblings talk about nothing, making mundane observations to avoid discussing the reason behind the occasion. Eventually, Romeo returned alongside Cosimo, smelling of spirits and half-asleep. Niccolò shook his head in reproach, shooting his twin an indecipherable look.

We rode together to the graveside service, piling into an SUV with Cosimo, Niccolò, and Mia. Romeo let me hold his hand, and I was close enough that the alcohol on his breath stung my nose. What the hell did he drink? It must have been more than the small flask I’d seen him with.

He stepped out of the vehicle and stumbled on the gravel path leading to the cemetery's Neretti family plots. Cosimo caught him under the arms and hauled him upright, whispering harshly into his ear as I approached.

“… wouldn’t have wanted to see you like this,” he hissed. “Keep it the fuck together for another hour. Then you can go home and drink yourself stupid if you aren’t already there.”

Romeo straightened his rumpled suit jacket, huffed at his brother, and then turned to me. “Come on.”

He threw an arm across my shoulders and leaned heavily on me as we joined the rest of the close family gathered in a semicircle around the priest. Ettore and his brother Giuseppe stood shoulder-to-shoulder, hands clasped as if in an unspoken formation. I pulled Romeo to a halt near the back so his father wouldn’t notice his current state.

“Stay here with me,” I pleaded, holding his hand. It wasn’t totally selfless. I didn’t want to get any closer to the grave. I had an irrational fear of falling in after a near-miss at my father’s funeral. “Please.”

His brows furrowed, but he stilled, gripping my hand tightly. He was so cold, a physical manifestation of all the emotion he tried to keep bottled up inside, drowning his sorrow with each sip of alcohol. I wondered how long he could continue on that path without completely self-destructing.

It was unfair to expect him to go back to life as if his world hadn’t been torn apart, but I couldn’t let him give up on everything.

The women cried softly as the priest offered the final blessing on Antonella’s life and committed her to the God she had held a deep faith in. I found my cheeks wet when I touched them, realizing I hadn’t been as composed as I had intended. Without a tissue, I had to settle for blotting the tears with my coat sleeve.

The air seemed to chill as the priest flicked holy water over the grave and stepped away as the coffin was lowered into the ground, hydraulics whirring and straps creaking under the weight of the ornate representation of death. I zipped my coat up to my neck and huddled closer to Romeo, watching as people took turns with the holy water and tossed white lilies onto the coffin.

I walked with Romeo, waiting as his siblings paid their last respects. When it was our turn, he sprinkled the coffin with the holy water and kissed the petal of a white lily, whispering a prayer before crossing himself and releasing the flower. I threw my flower in and heard the whoosh of the stem touching the other flowers.

After the rest of the family paid respects, Ettore put himself front and center, taking the single red rose from the vase and wiping his dry eyes for effect. Romeo tensed as his father spoke to the grave loud enough for all to hear.

“You were the love of my life, a blessing from God lighting each day I spent with you. Rest in peace, Antonella. I’ll miss you every day.” Ettore kissed the rose and tossed it into the grave. It looked like a drop of blood, the crimson flower marring the blanket of white lilies.

“Don’t you dare,” Romeo growled next to me, pulling away and stalking toward his father before I could stop him.

Ettore glared at his youngest son. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t you fucking pretend you loved her!” Romeo shouted, shoving his father and nearly making him stumble into the grave at his back. “You made her life hell when she only wanted to make you happy.”

“You’re overwrought,” his father said, like he was soothing a child throwing a tantrum. He found his footing and straightened his suit jacket.

“No, I’m fucking angry!” Romeo took another step toward his father, causing Ettore to shuffle backward. “I failed Mamma by keeping my mouth shut while she was alive because she didn’t want to cause a scene, but I will not stand by and let you believe that she was weak, even in death.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ettore said with a dismissive wave.

Romeo glowered, hands fisting at his sides, twitching like he might deliver a blow. “The fuck you don’t! The bruises. The yelling. The extended trips to the spa when she was too injured to face the public. You treated her like trash while she remained loyal to you and the family.”

“Romeo.” Dante’s palm landed heavily on his little brother’s shoulder.

That didn’t stop him. He shrugged Dante off and planted himself mere inches from his father’s face, snarling. “You didn’t deserve a fraction of her love and devotion. You don’t deserve any of what you have. You’re a narcissistic, abusive fuck, and one day all that power you have won’t be enough to save your body or your soul.”

Frothy droplets spattered Ettore’s shoes as Romeo spat at the ground, then spun and stalked away, head held high and tears streaming down his face.

Ettore leaped forward like he would chase after his son, and I threw myself in his path without a second thought. Murderous eyes met mine, and my entire body shook as I silently stood my ground. Maybe the terror coursing through my veins prevented me from submitting to the mafia Don in front of me, or perhaps I’d found more courage than I was aware I possessed. Whichever, I held the furious man’s gaze steadily until Dante’s hand wrapped around my upper arm and pulled me away.

“Ms. O’Neill.” Ettore’s hand sliced through the palpable tension in the air. I turned my head and shivered at his soulless gaze. “You seem to have failed at the job entrusted to you. Consider your affiliation with my family terminated.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my lip quiver at the implied threat of his words.

Dante spoke for me. “I’ll take care of this.”

He pulled me along to where Romeo paced in front of one of the family’s vehicles. Romeo raised his head as we approached, looking exhausted.

---