Feeling like ‘myself’ generally just meant I had my walls up, I had my guards in place, I wasn’t soft and vulnerable anymore.
There’d been times at the beginning of my relationship with Matthew when I was more open, sweeter, less guarded.
But as the reality of my marriage sank in, bumping and bruising tender areas, it felt like I had no choice but to start raising my walls again. To protect myself from more pain.
We don’t blame turtles for hiding in shells. That’s how they survive. And existing in a relationship that involved the Ferraro family, it felt like there were predators all around, just waiting to find me belly-up and unprotected so they could sink their teeth in.
But as I looked at the woman staring back at me in the mirror—cool, collected—I couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was shell and how much was actually me anymore.
This wasn’t the time for existential dread, though.
So I squared my shoulders and moved back out of my bedroom.
Where I found Zeno and Leo leaning over their collection of electronics, talking in low tones.
And Nico was in my kitchen. Jacket off. Sleeves rolled up. Cooking.
“I was going to make breakfast.”
“Well, now you can just keep me company,” he said, waving toward the island.
This was where it could have so easily turned awkward. I even braced for the discomfort.
But Nico quickly turned the conversation to the security system, explaining how it was going to work, how I would have remote access to all of my cameras from a phone app, and how there would be motion sensors and alarms.
As I listened, I couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of disappointment. Because with a system like the one he and his brothers were installing, I would never again need to have the half-naked man sleeping on my couch to keep me safe.
And I certainly wouldn’t have him in my kitchen, whipping me up a killer breakfast with his sleeves rolled up all sluttily.
“What is this? Some fucking spy movie?” Leo scoffed at something Zeno said, making me swivel to look over. “Is someone going to bungee down from the roof to get on her balcony?”
“It’s only one floor up,” Zeno reasoned. He walked over to unlock and slide open the balcony door. He leaned upward toward the roof. “I bet I could do it without equipment,” he mused. “Yeah, I mean, it’s only a couple-foot drop onto Nico’s balcony. Same drop down here.”
“Which you’re not going to attempt,” Nico said.
“Okay, Dad,” Zeno shot back. But the light in his eyes said he was totally planning on giving it a go. “But my point stands. If I could do it, who has no real motivation, then someone whodoeshave the motivation would risk it. What’s it hurt to put a camera out there?”
“He’s got a point,” Nico agreed.
“He does?” I asked, dubious. “I mean, really, that seems like something out of a movie.”
“Exactly,” Leo agreed, glad to have someone on his sensible side.
“But we all know that crazier shit has happened in real life,” Nico said, giving Leo a look I couldn’t quite decipher.
Huh.
That was odd.
Suddenly, something came back to me that I’d overheard at one of the many Ferraro family gatherings.
They’d been talking about Nico, which hadn’t really caught my interest at first. Why would I care about gossip having to do with my husband’s “best friend” who I’d literally never seen again after my wedding?
But something about the excited, hushed tones had me more curious than I wanted to admit to.
“Mimi was shocked,” one of Ronny’s sisters said.
“About what? Him having a gun?”
