Page 140 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

I blinked. My father rarely cursed in front of us. “You don’t want me to stay?”

“I want you to sort things out with Buscetta. A wife should not abandon her husband.”

Was he actually blamingme?I slid off the bed and lowered myself into the chair. “I didn’t abandon him. He’s the one who left.”

“He asked you to come back with him. Said he wanted a real marriage with you. If he left without an answer, that’s on you.”

I instantly regretted telling my family everything that happened with Giacomo. “I’m not ready to deal with it, Papà.”

“You must, because he won’t wait forever, sweetheart. He’s Sicilian and Sicilian men have a lot of pride. Rejection won’t sit easy.”

Pride again. Why was everyone obsessed with Giacomo’s feelings of self-worth? What aboutmypride? “I didn’t reject him. I asked him to give me time.”

“To an Italian man—hell, to any man—it’s the same thing.”

It was?

The two of us fell silent. I hated disappointing my father, but how could I even think of leaving Toronto? Every moment left with him was a gift, and I wasn’t going to squander it. “If he loves me, he’ll wait.”

My father snorted and that turned into a prolonged coughing fit. When he was able, I helped him take a sip of water and he cleared his throat. “You don’t think Giacomo will wait for me?” I asked as my father relaxed into his pillows.

“Why would he? Have you given him any reason to think there might be hope?”

No, I hadn’t. Hard to give hope for something I wasn’t sure was possible. “There’s nothing wrong with an annulment. Or even a divorce, Papà.” I forced the words out, even though they stung my throat like acid. “It’s okay if it doesn’t work out.”

His gaze turned shrewd, assessing. He looked exactly like the father of my youth, the one who knew exactly when one of us had been bad. “Emma, this isn’t like you to give up so easily. What aren’t you telling me?”

I hadn’t told him this part. It wasn’t easy to tell your father you didn’t want to marry a man that was like him. “I’m not certain my vision of the future lines up with Giacomo’s. You know, medical school, residency. Practicing medicine. I don’t know many mob wives with careers.”

“Your sisters both have their own pursuits, though Frankie has put those on hold for now to look after the children. And your mother had her own career. Why can’t you?”

“Yeah, but Mama gave up her career when she married you.”

“True, but it was her choice. I never asked her to.”

“That’s not what she told Frankie.”

My father’s pale skin lost even more of its color and he struggled to sit up. “What?”

“Settle down.” Rising, I helped him back onto the pillows. “You’ll have another coughing fit.”

“Fuck coughing fits. Tell me what your sister said, what Sofia supposedly said.”

It wasn’t hard to recall. Frankie had been telling us this story ever since I could remember. “Mama said we should have our own lives and never give them up for any man.”

“And how is that me forcing her to give up her modeling career?”

“She obviously regretted it. And she never modeled again after we were born.”

“True, but she still worked and accepted jobs after we married. I didn’t stop her from that.” His eyes clouded, unseeing, as he stared at the far wall, lost in a memory. His lips curled into a knowing smile. “To be honest, I loved it. Paparazzi followed her wherever she went and she was invited everywhere. Men all around the world lusted after your mother and she wasmine. I was so proud. It wasn’t until she became pregnant with Frankie that she retired. But that was her decision.”

“Then why did she regret quitting? Why insist that we each get a college degree before marriage?”

He paused, like he was gathering his thoughts. “Your mother grew up in a poor town outside of Rome, and in that area the mafia was all they knew. It wasn’t like here. It was old school, Emma, where girls were married off at thirteen, fourteen years old. After they married, wives were hardly seen outside the home again. I wouldn’t have allowed you to be married so young, but your mother worried just the same. She wanted her girls to be strong, educated, and to be able to stand up to any man you married.”

An unbelievable sense of sorrow wrapped around my heart, sharp and painful like thorns. “There is so much I don’t know about her, about your life together, and now you’re—” It was too hard, too heavy to actually say the word at the moment. I would probably start sobbing if I stopped to think about it.

He reached for my hand, but was too far away, so I laced my fingers with his. “It’s okay. You can say it. I’m dying. We both know it’s happening, sweetheart.”

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