The three of them quickly said goodbye, the visit ending on a sour note. All that echoed in his head was how he'd hurt Rebecca, and that he was his father.
Mitch sitting in his opulent armchair with a cigar in his hand resounded in Bart’s mind but he saw himself instead.
He imagined Rebecca at her home crying for him, and how cruel he'd been, pressed down on his shoulders like a rock.
"Can I get you anything, Lorenzo?" He retook his seat and picked up his glass of wine as he met Lorenzo’s gaze.
"I'm fine." His brother shifted on the couch across from him, adjusting that ring of his he always wore. Instead of drinking, he lowered his glass. “So, tonight’s get-together could have gone better. Anthony is heading to California later. Gio, his wife, and our newly found sister all left. Want to talk about it?”
If Lorenzo wanted to give him older-brother advice, he’d listen. He’d have to. Back when their mother had been alone after their father left for good, Lorenzo had directed her to be happy and live again. She'd found contentment with Benedetto.
Bart sipped his wine and swallowed, his heart a pebble in his chest. “Lorenzo, have you ever been in love?”
His brother's face darkened, and he sat back, consumed in shadows. He put his wine down and avoided his eye gaze as he said, “I don’t count. Gio is the good example to follow.”
Except their brother Gio was the sensitive one. It had been one of the reasons their father had consistently bullied him. Bart wasn’t like that at all. “Why?”
“Because I’m more like Anthony.” Lorenzo clasped his hands as he leaned forward. “I wish I wasn’t, but Dad’s blood runs through my veins.”
“You’re nothing alike,” Bart instantly said. Their father demanded or raged. Lorenzo always had a pleasant demeanor where everyone, including Bart, looked toward him for advice.
Lorenzo lifted the lid off the fruit tray and took out an apple slice. “But we are.”
“How?” For once thoughts of Rebecca didn’t consume his vision. He would help his brother if he could.
Lorenzo sighed like he didn’t want to talk about this, but then said, “I let a woman leave me.”
“So?”
Many women had left him through the years though right now it seemed Rebecca’s memory would replay forever.
"I don’t know her real name, or how to find her." Bart focused on his brother who then said, “Whoever she was, she haunts my thoughts. I wish I'd had the courage to tell her before she disappeared on me how I felt. I would have married her.”
Bart nodded--so, Lorenzo had loved once. How could he locate this woman for him? He knew where Rebecca lived, what her hair smelled like, what her mouth kissed like. He knew she liked flowers and valued the simple joys in life.
He glanced at his brother and said, “If you can give me more details I will search for her.”
Lorenzo gave him a small smile. “Don’t. She’s gone anyhow. But if you don’t love Rebecca then what just happened with our family will pass.”
“Good.” Bart hoped his brother was right. He hated being at odds with his siblings.
With a long sigh, Lorenzo stood and scooped up some of the grapes in his hand. “But if you do love her, fix your mistake and be a better man than our father ever was.”
His skin had that sensation of snakes again. He needed to run it off or find a way to not think about Rebecca or how he was like his father right now. Lorenzo offered to shake his hand so Bart jumped up to say goodbye, his mind making plans. “Tomorrow I’m thinking of ordering the jet and just returning to Rome.”
“Then you've decided.” Lorenzo patted his shoulder as he passed him to the door, which he opened. “Good night--and good luck.”
Bart closed the door and ambled around his empty house.
Rebecca wasn’t here anymore. He was alone and for once in his life, he wasn’t happy. Rebecca honestly deserved better than him because if he was anything like his father then he didn’t deserve love. He deserved to be deserted and left, forever.
Chapter 17
Bart slipped out of the Morgan town car with the sun high in the sky and stared at the huge terminal in front of him.
He hadn’t been to a commercial airport in years. This seemed strange. This morning, the idea of telling his own pilots that he wanted to return to Rome had felt like a failure.
His vocal chords wouldn’t open and his neck was pinched.
