“Your mom is crying on the dance floor, asking for you,” Dante says. “What happened?”
I shake my head, too exhausted to explain how her mind works. “It’s nothing. Tell me, are you still going to Miami? Is Mimi going?”
He nods, his grin spreading wider. “I'm proposing.”
Bo sits up, eyes wide as Dante reveals the diamond from his pocket, displaying it with pride.
I smile, patting his back. “It’s about damn time.”
“I know. She’s put up with a lot from me.”
“More than a lot,” Bo grumbles.
“Says the man who’s dating his first girl in over a decade.”
Bo swings at him, effortlessly falling into our routine despite where we are and the dangerous people around us. Dante finishes his beer before mine is even half-drained.
“Have you told Zeke? This will make his year.”
“I told him a bit ago. He called Delli immediately, and she blew out my eardrum.”
Bo shifts forward. “How are you going to do it?”
Dante’s answer looses with an excitement I’ve never experienced. Even in my marriage to Sophie, I had to win her love. I had to convince her she was making the right choice. The simplicity of his proposal and his meeting with her family feel utterly foreign to me.
As he boasts, Courtney appears at my side.
There’s an apology in her eyes. She places her hand on my shoulder, smiling softly when I reach up to grab it.
Almost an hour later, Dante, heading to the city himself, offers to drive Courtney home. My mother’s bidding goodbye to the last few straggling guests. Standing on the grounds, my gaze lingers on the construction equipment by the entrance to the prison. Sledgehammers. Pry bars. Tools meant to destroy.
I sense someone beside me.
“How is she?” Bo asks discreetly, smart enough not to say her name aloud.
As the string band packs their belongings, I breathe in, reporting my findings. “She moved into a new apartment about six months ago.”
“Nothing suspicious?”
“No.”
“How does she look?”
My stare drills through that prison door, picturing those walls I lay siege to whenever life becomes too much to bear. I went to great lengths to get information on my wife’s whereabouts. It took coding to do it on my own, through a channel that no one could uncover. It took days to wipe any traces, but I did it.
As much as my rational mind told me to let her go, that to watch her move on would hurt too much, I couldn’t handle not knowing. I don’t care if she remarries as Cara Alfieri. I don’t care if I have to watch her have children; if I have to secretly follow her through every home she lives in, Iwillensure her safety. As Courtney said, I made a vow.
“She’s thin.”But beautiful.“There’s a small café under her place.”
I feel his eyes on me. “You should call, ask to speak to her.”
“No, that’s fucking insane.”
“You don’t have to say your name. You don’t even need to talk about what happened.”
I shake my head. “It’s been almost two years. She’s got a life there.”
“X, I know, but?—”
