Elude (31 page)

I knew it was possible.

I just hadn't thought it would happen.

She'd had a stroke. I looked closer as part of the right side of her face sagged just a bit; only noticeable to someone who was obsessed with every angle of her.

"Maybe…" I swallowed the lump in my throat. "…we should call the hospice nurse, just in case."

Typically, our nurse only checked in once a day.

I dreaded the time I'd have to call her to stay more than an hour.

The time was upon us.

Andi shook her head and reached for my hand. She gripped it tight, which wasn't tight; it was weak, again making me feel sick to my stomach.

"Please, wait, just… just until the sunrise."

I licked my lips, not sure if I should wait. I mean, what if?

"Please," she begged. "Things always look better in the morning, right? And it's not morning yet. Technically, it's still night. So wait until morning, wait until the sun shines on a new day, and we'll call."

I nodded. "Okay."

She sighed and pressed a kiss to my lips. "Good, now let's put a chair in front of the window and watch. Let's watch life together."

It was the last good day we had.

That was cancer for you. It had no schedule, no timetable — it just was. One day she was laughing and joking with me.

The next…

She was a shell of her former self.

A week had gone by since her stroke.

A week where I watched my wife, the love of my life, fade before my very eyes. The weight continued to fall off; her appetite was nonexistent; muscle deteriorated. It was almost like I was watching the cancer actually eat her.

I tried to cheer her up.

We watched movies in bed. I sang to her even — though I sang like shit.

And when she was too tired to read…

I read to her.

Her stupid historical romance books.

About dukes and London and far away kingdoms that no longer existed in society.

She loved it.

So I loved it.

"Shergio…" Andi slurred, her speech had started to go, especially at night. "Promise me another sunset."

"I promise." I kissed her forehead. "Sleep."

She fell asleep within seconds.

I set the book down and left the room, not because I wanted to be away from her, but because I hadn't eaten anything all day. I'd been too consumed by her.

Too sad.

It was around eight at night when I made it down to the kitchen.

Chase was pulling something out of the oven. Frank was pouring wine, and the rest of the group paused.

It wasn't awkward, just… depressing.

"My other bitch made food," Tex finally blurted.

And suddenly everything was right again.

I cracked a smile. "He better have buttered my bread.

"You slut, butter your own bread!" Chase snapped.

I laughed.

Probably for the first time in a week.

Fighting commenced over dinner.

Four bottles of wine all but disappeared, and I knew, one day, maybe not soon, I'd be okay. Because I had family — I really had family.

Andi

I FELT IT.

Maybe that was normal — maybe not. But it was like an alarm clock had suddenly gone off in my heart, beckoning me, calling to me. And a peace like I'd never experienced in my entire life fell over me. It was warm, like a blanket on a cold winter's night.

I woke up from my sleep and smiled a real smile — like the ones I saved for Sergio and only Sergio.

I looked around the room. Things had been set into motion, the plans for his life set, even though he had no idea.

I'd done what I could.

And I'd done well; I knew that in my soul. The peace I felt in that moment was enough to help me get out of bed.

I wrapped an afghan around me and kissed Sergio on the top of his head. He stirred, then woke up just as I walked out of the room.

He would follow.

He would always follow.

But this was the last time he'd do such a thing. It was the last time he'd follow me, and that was how it should be, how it was supposed to be.

I ran my fingers along the wood banister as I made my way down the stairs, my naked feet sinking into the warm plush carpet. The house smelled like pasta; I imagined they'd had a really good meal the night before — with wine and laughter.

Good. He would need that.

A lot of it.

Night blanketed the house, its shadows casting a comforting glow as I finally found myself in the main entryway.

I heard Sergio's soft steps behind me.

I opened the front door and walked outside. The moon was starting to set, the sun just beginning to peek from the east.

The smell of winter was long gone, and spring was starting to seep its way into the atmosphere with its growth, its life.

It was poetic really, if I thought about it. The timing… more perfect than I'd originally thought.

One step.

Two.

Three… and I was walking out into the field, the same field I'd run into in my wedding dress when my husband had pissed me off.

Again, so poetic, so romantic that this was where life had brought us.

Together.

In that same field.

I blinked back the tears as I watched the sky swirl with life.

I would miss him.

Desperately.

Our time had been short.

But it had been good.

And that's how life is measured — not by the length, but by the strength of those moments spent together.

I turned around as Sergio slowly approached, his hair disheveled, his face calm, his body strong. I'd remember him always — his sharp jaw, his defined lips, his gorgeous icy-blue eyes, long shaggy pirate hair… or as I'd remember… historical-romance duke hair that would make any girl with a pulse swoon.

He was my hero.

My white knight.

Granted, he was missing a horse.

But his heart — damn, it was strong.

He didn't have armor… then again, men like Sergio? Rarely needed it.

His steps were purposeful, his full mouth curving into a sad smile.

Beautiful… and mine — a gift I'd never deserve but forever cherish. I winked and then sat down, the grass tickling my legs. I pulled the afghan tighter against my body as I waited for his approach.

For the final moment.

Sergio

I'D KNOWN IT BEFORE SHE'D EVEN
woke me up.

Something in my soul had stirred… maybe it was because we were connected at such a deep level that her thoughts were my own; her feelings, the same.

I followed her into the field, grinning when she gave me that coy look I'd been so used to seeing — the same one that had been missing from her face for the past week.

"Wanted to go for a midnight run, huh?" I teased.

Andi laughed. "Yeah, well, you know me. I like to keep you on your toes and all that. Italians aren't known for their spontaneity."

"Who uses big words this early in the morning?"

Her eyebrows arched. "Russians."

I held out my hand.

She stood and gripped it.

"Twirl."

"Huh?"

I kissed her softly. "This…" I stood back and glanced at her pajama pants and T-shirt. "…is a two-twirl outfit — maybe three."

"Oh yeah?" Tears welled in her eyes.

"Yeah." I nodded then slowly twirled her, one, two, three times, bringing her into my arms and kissing her again, slowly dancing side to side. "You're beautiful."

"Nope." She pulled back. "Not doing this. You know we never would have worked, right?"

I sat on the ground and pulled her into my lap. "Oh yeah?" My hands danced across her arms, rubbing them back and forth, trying to bring warmth into her cold body. "Why's that?"

"You hate vodka and never even finished the honeymoon list!"

I laughed. "We finished the important parts."

"True." She laid her head against my chest and let out a huge sigh. "You know you don't really love me, right?"

"Yes, I do. Don't tell me how to feel." I pulled her against me and kissed her nose, feeling semi-aggravated she would doubt me.

"Nope." She shook her head. "I refuse to believe it. Wanna know why?"

"Not particularly, no, but saying no to you is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Should I sit down for this?"

"No, but you can hold me."

"I'm already doing that."

"And you are sitting down, silly Italian."

"Such a good student."

She flicked my nose.

"I was your teacher first, smart ass."

"One day…" She sighed happily. "…you're going to fall in love, and it's going to be epic and beautiful and heartbreaking."

"I feel that way now." My words felt thick as I clenched her body tighter.

"I refuse it!" she said in a stern voice. "Because that makes our story too tragic, and I don't do tragic. I think we deserve a happy ending… so you and me? We're best friends. We have a lot of firsts together. But imagine us growing old, Sergio? You'd steal the remote. I'd bang you on the head with a baseball bat."

"Don't forget the pots and pans," I said, laughing.

"I mean, who does that?" Andi finished. "Imagine our children!"

"They'd be beautiful," I said reverently.

"They'd be American-born Sicilians with a slice of Russian — they'd be horrible."

I burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh. That was Andi; I knew what she was doing, even in her last moments — trying to cheer me up. Maybe she could sense my heart breaking. Maybe she could hear it. I knew I could.

"And don't even get me started on the way you steal all the covers, Sergio. Not very classy and, I mean, you do snore."

"I purr."

"You snore," she corrected. "And you sing like shit."

"Thanks."

"It's the truth."

"No sugarcoating, hmm, Russia?"

"No, Sicily, no sugarcoating."

"So where does that leave us?" I was almost afraid to ask.

"With goodbye." She shrugged then kissed me softly across the lips. "But it's going to be a hell of a goodbye… with kissing, hugging — no tears though. Don't go all soft on me. Russians don't cry."

"Even when Russians watch
Frozen?
"

"You were sworn to secrecy! You know that means I have to kill you."

"Do your worst." I held open my arms, but, instead of hitting me, she just leaned back, her head resting against my chest.

"Remember this moment, Sergio… when I'm gone… and please, for the love of God, smile don't go back to that place. Don't get angry, don't get resentful, just smile… because we had a chance. It was short, but we still had it. And that, my friend, is a beautiful ending, remember?"

I closed my eyes, blinking back tears. "Yes, I remember."

Andi kissed my cheek and sighed; her breathing sounded more laborious; her body felt cold, frigid.

"Andi…" My voice broke. "…I broke my promise."

She shifted in my lap and faced me. "What?"

"I cried… I cried over you."

Andi's eyes welled with tears as she cupped my face with her hands. "That's okay… I cried too."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"Will you hold me now?" She sighed. "So we can watch the sunrise together?" Her voice cracked.

"Yeah, Andi."

She relaxed against me. Her body felt so frail, so tiny.

"I love you, Italy."

"I love you too, Russia."

"For as long as we both live…" Andi whispered.

"As long as we both live," I repeated.

The sun rose over the horizon; it was bright, breathtaking. Andi gripped my hands tight and sighed happily.

My whole life I'd watched people die. After all, most of the time I'd been the one to offer death. I'd been on the other end of the gun, the fist, the knife.

I'd always thought of it as being something so indifferent, mechanical.

I was wrong.

So wrong.

Dying didn't have to be tragic.

It didn't have to be horrific.

Or dark.

It could be beautiful.

I'd known the minute I'd stepped out of our bedroom I wouldn't be walking back in with Andi in my arms.

I'd known it in my soul.

Yet I followed her.

I would follow that woman anywhere.

And she knew that.

It was a kindness — to pull me away from my family, from the house, from what the memory would be like to find her lifeless in our bed, in the room we'd shared.

"Andi," I whispered, "I love you… until we both shall live…"

She took her last breath.

I felt it like it was my own.

And I held her like my strength would somehow bring her back.

It wouldn't.

But I held her anyway.

For an hour I sat there with Andi in my arms. The sun shone across her face — it was bright, so beautiful — and I knew… death didn't have to be ugly.

It could be like Andi.

Absolutely perfect.

I kept my tears in.

At least I tried.

But I didn't last long.

Because after that hour was up, I felt a hand touch my shoulder. Tex sat down next to me and wrapped his arm around my body and held me…

While tears flowed freely down my face.

Nixon sat on the other side.

And then Ax.

Chase.

Frank.

Phoenix.

The mob bosses and two made men.

They didn't just hold me.

Every single one of them cried with me.

Andi hadn't just affected me. She'd affected all of us, brought us together, made something beautiful out of what had for so long been so dark.

And I had to, in that moment, smile…

Luca.

Damn the man.

He'd known what he was doing all along.

Sergio

THE FUNERAL WAS SMALL, NOT LARGE.

The people invited?

Family — and only family — plus one Russian doctor and his ever-present scowl and wise eyes.

"Nicolai." I held out my hand.

He took it, his grip firm. Faint shadows beneath his eyes, he looked as exhausted as I felt. "Sergio, remember what I promised."