Page 6 of The Fixer

I want to tell them to fuck off. Instead, I step aside and gesture them in.

Upstairs, we silently stare at each other. I didn‘t bother to shave today. My shirt is wrinkled, and I‘msure I reek of alcohol. Thankfully, both of them ignore my appearance. Instead, Valentina looks around the room.

It’s not much, my apartment. There’s a bed and an armchair, and that’s about it. An old sheet acts as a curtain, blocking out the evening light. The kitchen is an alcove that houses a refrigerator and a burner stove. No oven, no dishwasher.

Pizza boxes and takeout containers cover the coffee table, and napkins litter the floor. Valentina looks a little shocked at the mess. “Leo, you’re a slob,” she scolds. “You’re worse than Angelica, and that’s saying something. When was the last time you cleaned?”

“Signora Sacchi is on vacation,” I lie. My cleaning lady was supposed to come yesterday, but I asked her not to. I can’t deal with people right now. “Where is Angelica?”

Nine months ago, Valentina’s ten-year-old daughter was kidnapped by a rival family in Bergamo. The kidnapping happened on my watch. Another person I couldn’t protect. Another way I’ve failed the people I care about.

Valentina opens the cupboard under the sink, looking for a garbage bag. “She‘s with Antonio and Lucia.”

I stop her before she can start tidying up. Fishing out a pair of folding chairs from under the bed, I dust them off and set them up. “Sit,” I tell my friends. “I’ll take care of the mess.” I throw out the takeout containers, wipe down the coffee table, and wash three dinner plates.

When I’m done, Valentina unpacks the basket. “I brought Vietnamese,” she announces. “Fresh rolls, salted squid, and noodles with stir-fried beef in a curry sauce. I hope you’re hungry.”

This doesn’t look like takeout. “You cooked?”

“Of course. I’m starving. Let’s dive in.”

The food is fantastic. I’m not much of a cook—the only dishes I can make are roast chicken and pasta. This though? A thousand flavors and textures burst on my tongue with every bite. It’s almost enough to make me forgive the intrusion.Almost.“Thank you,” I say. “Everything is delicious. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“We’re worried about you,” Dante says bluntly. “You‘re still beating yourself up about what happened to Angelica.”

“No, I’m not,” I lie.

“Really? Then why was it that you wanted to know where she was earlier?” He gives me a pointed look. “You‘ve been brooding for months, Leo. But theBergamo threat has been handled. Angelica is fine, and everything is okay. Nobody blames you for what happened, least of all Valentina and me.”

They might not hold me responsible, but that doesn’t absolve me of my guilt. “I don’t blame myself.”

Valentina switches from one unwelcome topic to another. “These are Rosa’s recipes,” she says. She tilts her head to the side and surveys me through narrowed eyes. “Speaking of Rosa, whatever happened between the two of you? I saw you dancing with her at our wedding, but I didn’t notice either of you leave. Did you hook up?”

Dante’s cough sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “You might as well tell her,” he advises. “Evidently, every time the subject of you comes up, Rosa changes the topic. Valentina is dying of curiosity. Any minute now, she’s going to hack into your email and search for messages between the two of you.”

“I would never,” Valentina responds indignantly. “I havesomeboundaries. Besides, Leo’s going to tell me, isn’t he?”

“Nothing happened between us.” And nothing can. Rosa Tran is an optimist who believes in things like love and happily-ever-after, and I’m a dead husk of a man.

But when we danced, she made me want to feel again.

I pushed her away, and I don’t regret it. Rosa is genuinely lovely—kind, generous, always quick with a smile and a laugh—but she’s also twenty-five. She’s got her whole life ahead of her, and I’m not enough of an asshole to ruin it.

“But you like her,” Valentina prompts.

That’s irrelevant. “What is it about newlyweds that turns them into relentless matchmakers?” I bite out. “It doesn’t matter what I think about Rosa. Nothing is ever going to happen between us. In case you haven’t noticed, your friend issixteenyears younger than me.”

“There is a little bit of an age gap,” she concedes. “But it’s not like Rosa is eighteen.”

This is getting ridiculous. Valentina is pushing way too hard. “It’s not a little bit of an age gap,” I snap. “It’s a chasm.” Maybe my friends think that a relationship is what I need to pull me out of my funk, but they don’t know the truth. I was in love once, and it ended in disaster. I will never put myself on that path again. “For fuck’s sake, I lost my virginity the same year Rosa was born.”

“Too much information, Leo.” Dante looks like he wants to punch me in the face. Tough shit. If hedoesn’t like me snapping at his wife, he should tell her to stop nagging me. And if he wants to start something, well, why not add more pain to this clusterfuck of a day?

Before the situation can escalate into disaster, Valentina’s phone rings. She glances at the display. “What a coincidence. It’s Rosa.” She picks up the call, a smile on her face. “You’ll never guess where I am right now.”

Then she listens to what Rosa is saying, and the laughter is wiped off her face. “Hang tight,” she says. “We’ll be there in less than two hours. Whatever you do, don’t leave the house, any of you.”

“What’s going on?” I demand as soon as she hangs up.

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