Sempre: Redemption (46 page)

“You’re beautiful.” He cracked a smile as the blush rose into her cheeks. “You still blush, too.”

“You still make me,” she whispered, surveying him. “You’re wearing a suit.”

Glancing down at himself, he grimaced. “I still hate them, but it’s a funeral.” His voice cracked on the word and he turned away, taking a deep, calculated breath. He gazed past her at something. “You wore high heels.”

“I still hate them, but it’s a funeral,” she said, repeating his words. “You’re not wearing Nike’s.”

“I wish I was,” he muttered. “These fucking shoes hurt my feet.”

She stifled a laugh. “You still say that word.”

“What word?” He raised his eyebrows when she didn’t respond. “I guess you still don’t use it.”

Haven shrugged.

They stood there for a while longer trading observations. It might have been trivial, given the weight of the circumstances, but it was their way of reconnecting. They memorized each other again, becoming acquainted with the things that had changed in their absence as the comfort and familiarity settled back in. Countless times she wondered what she would say if she ever saw Carmine again, musing about what he might possibly say in response, but she never considered that it would be so seamless for them.

They had both changed, and it was obvious, as she stared into his deep green eyes, that there was a darkness lurking inside of him, but it hadn’t consumed him. Carmine’s spirit might have been broken, but his soul remained intact. It was like meeting him for the first time all over again, but knowing in her heart exactly who he was from the beginning.

He was Carmine Marcello DeMarco . . . and even broken, he was beautiful.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, pulling Haven into his arms again. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. “This has to be a fucking dream.”

“It’s not a dream,” she said. “I’m really here.”

“For how long?”

She hesitated. Carmine’s phone rang then, tension sweeping over them as he motioned for her to stay where she was. She eyed him warily as he stepped away, bringing his phone to his ear and speaking quietly to ensure she couldn’t overhear.

A sinking feeling settled into the pit of her stomach. She knew the
easy
couldn’t last, that the seamless would have snags. He was a part of that life, and there were things about him she couldn’t be involved in—things she could never know. Carmine harbored secrets that would never be spilled.

Not wanting to appear to be eavesdropping, Haven took a step away and quietly gazed at the headstone that marked his mother’s grave.

Maura DeMarco

April 1965–October 1996

“Ama, ridi, sogna—e vai dormire”

She had only been thirty-one, too young to be ripped from the world. Dr. DeMarco had lived more than a decade without his wife. Haven couldn’t begin to imagine how he had felt waking every morning to face the realization that he would never have it back, he would never feel the spark again.

“Sorry about that,” Carmine said, interrupting her thoughts. ”It was—”

“I don’t need to know,” Haven cut him off, but she heard him mutter Corrado’s name regardless.

An awkward silence lingered before Carmine sighed. “
Ama, ridi, sogna—e vai dormire
,” he said, reading the line chiseled into the stone. ”It means ‘Love, laugh, dream, and go to sleep’.”

Haven smiled softly. “I like that.”

“Me, too,” he mumbled, a sad smile tugging his lips. “That’s what she did.”

“She was an amazing woman.”

“She was. Too bad I couldn’t take after her more. Instead, I’m like
him
.” Tears brimmed his eyes, sudden anger flowing out with those words. “Vincent DeMarco’s son, so that makes me the fucking enemy. As much as I hate it, it’s true. I’m one of them.”

“You aren’t.”

“I
am
. You don’t even fucking know.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t be able to look at me if you knew.”

“You only did what you had to do.”

“You don’t even know
what
I’ve done,” he said. “What I’ve stood by and watched without saying a goddamn word. I’ve watched people die and kept my mouth shut like they didn’t matter, like they didn’t fucking count. What kinda person does that?”

“Me,” Haven said quietly. “Did you forget about Frankie killing that girl? Number 33—that’s all I know about her, a number written on a piece of paper someone stuck to her. She’s dead and I don’t even know her name. I never did anything to help her.”

He shook his head. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“He would’ve fucking killed
you
.”

“Are you saying they won’t kill you if you don’t go along with it?”

“It’s still not the same,” he said, the aggravation clear in his voice. “You were born into it, but I chose this life. I chose to be this fucking person.”

“For me,” she said. “If nothing else, that makes you good.”

“Good,”
he sneered. “They talked today about how good my father was, about all the people he helped, but what about the bad? He helps a few people and suddenly all the ones he hurt are forgotten? What about what he did to
you
? What about what he did to
me
? He opened fire on a house and I had to see that shit! Then he . . . then he fucking tried to . . .”

He shook as he fought for control, on the verge of hyperventilating. Haven rubbed his back, her tears steadily falling. He hurt, and she had no idea how to make it any better.

“He’s gone,” Carmine said after a moment. “He went out in a blaze of glory, and I can’t help but hate him for it because now he’s gone, too! And the worst part is that I wasn’t surprised, because he did exactly what I would’ve done. I would’ve killed every single one of those motherfuckers. I’m just like my goddamn father.”

Haven grabbed his arm to calm him down, his moods shifting so quickly she had a hard time keeping up. He shrugged away from her, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a silver metal flask.

Bringing it to his lips, he closed his eyes and shuddered as he took a drink. “I owe you a lot of apologies, but sorry doesn’t seem good enough.”

“Your intentions were always good,” Haven said, not liking his self-loathing. Based on his demeanor, he had been beating himself up for a while.

“How’s that saying go—the road to hell is paved with good intentions? Makes sense, I guess, since I’m heading that way.”

She winced. “Don’t say that, Carmine.”

“Sorry, you’re right,” he said quickly, taking another drink from his flask. “I shouldn’t be saying this shit to you. I just . . . I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re here. You didn’t have to come. You don’t owe my family anything, but it’s good to see you.”

His words lacked the emotion he had had just minutes before. “It’s good to see you, too. I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah?” He glanced at Haven. “I’ve missed you, too. You look good,
tesoro
.”

Her heart started acting erratically, a fluttering in her stomach as the word
tesoro
escaped his lips. He tried to run his hand through his hair but cringed, a white bandage covering it. “What happened to your hand?”

He shoved it back in his pocket as if to hide the injury. “Corrado shot me.”

“He
shot
you? Why?”

“You’d have to ask him.” He grew quiet again and Haven knew he was holding back. “That’s where the scar on my face came from, too. Someone shot at me. Wasn’t Corrado that time, though . . . some Irish fucker.”

Haven stared at him as that sank in. “That’s scary.”

“That’s
life
,” he said, shrugging as if it weren’t a big deal. “That’s my life now, anyway. Thank God it’s not yours.”

Silence lingered between them as he took sips from his flask, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. She could see the sadness, the yearning for something he felt he couldn’t have. It made her chest ache.

“A guy named Gavin asked me out a few months ago,” she blurted out.

Carmine froze with the flask to his lips, cringing at her words. Tension rolled from him in waves. “Did you go out with him?”

“Once, but it could never work.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he could never know me,” she said quietly. “I had friends, but they didn’t know me, either. No one did. They don’t know where I came from or what I went through. They only know the cover story, the girl I pretend to be . . . the girl everyone
wants
me to be . . . the girl I still sometimes wish I could be. They think the world I came from only exists in movies.”

“That’s the point,” he said. “You can be whoever you want to be.”

She sighed. “Don’t you get it, Carmine? I am that girl. I always will be, and believe it or not, I like her. I like being her. I like
me
.”

“I like you, too,” he said, “but you deserve more than this life, Haven.”

“Well, so do you.”

He groaned. “I chose this shit.”

“Then why couldn’t I?” she asked. “Why did you choose for me?”

“Because I’d be goddamned if I was going to let you throw everything away for someone like me. You’re better than my kind.”

Haven shook her head with disbelief. “Your
kind
? How can you say that? You, the boy who told me over and over again that I’d overcome my label . . . how can you label yourself? You wanted me to go out there and explore my options. I did that, Carmine, and I loved it, but I was lonely. Do you know what it’s like to stand in a crowded room and still feel like you’re the only one there? Do you? Because that was how it felt to me.”

“I couldn’t be something you settled for, Haven.”

“You think being with you would be settling? I’ll always be a part of your world. I’ll always have someone keeping tabs on me, making sure I don’t break my silence. My house got broken into and I couldn’t even call the police, I had to call your uncle! How do I explain
that
to people? It’s not normal—
I’m
not normal! Being out there in the world alone, spending my life pretending to be someone I’m not . . .
that’s
settling, Carmine. Does it even matter what
I
want?”

Carmine sighed exasperatedly, taking another drink. “Of course it matters.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

He stared at her, his eyes boring into hers intensely. “What do you do when the thing you want most suddenly feels like it’s just beyond your fingertips?”

The question caught Haven off guard. “What?”

“You wrote that in your journal,” he said. “I couldn’t hold you back.”

A bitter laugh of disbelief erupted from her chest. “That’s why you did it? Are you kidding me? The answer to that question isn’t to give up, Carmine. You don’t just quit. You keep trying. You keep
reaching
. All I ever wanted was someone to see me, to love me, to
understand
me. I didn’t have to hide from you; I didn’t have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t. You know me, the person no one else will ever know. I wanted to be with you, I thought we’d be together, and then you left! You walked out on me as I slept!”

Haven shook as all of the hurt came pouring out in her words, everything she had kept bottled in for the past eighteen months erupting in a cloud of anger.

“I wanted what was best for you,” he said. “I wanted you to have a chance.”

“A chance?” she asked. “You asked me for a chance once. Do you remember that? I gave it to you, and I don’t regret that for a second. I’ll never regret it. If you didn’t love me, that’s one thing, but—”

“Of course I loved you!” His eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t want to get you killed!”

“You’re not your father, Carmine, and I’m
not
your mother.”

“I know that,” he spat.

“Do you? You’re so busy trying to stop history from repeating itself that you’re completely ignoring what’s right in front of you!”

He wiped his eyes. “And what’s that?”

“Fate,” she said. “You came into my life because you were meant to be in my life. It wasn’t an
accident
! So don’t push me away, because I fucking
love
you, Carmine DeMarco, and you’re just hurting yourself doing it!”

Frantic, Haven wrapped her arms around her chest, trying to hold herself together. Carmine stared at her in a daze, but the moment a sob escaped from her throat he snapped back to reality. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. “Oh,
tesoro
,” he whispered into her hair. “I fucking love you, too.”

They clung to each other again until Carmine’s phone shattered yet another moment. He groaned as he reached for it and glanced at the screen.

“Sir?” His voice was even as he answered, his eyes refusing to leave Haven’s face. “Yes, sir. Thirty minutes. I got it.”

He hung up, giving Haven a curious look.

“You have to go?” she guessed.

He nodded. “You, too. We’re expected at the gathering.”

“Was that Corrado?” she asked, surprised when he nodded. “It sounded serious, like, you know . . .
work
.”

He smiled sadly. “Corrado is work to me. He’s my boss first and family second. I can’t tell him to fuck off anymore. I’d hate for him to shoot me again.”

Haven glanced at his hand instinctively. “I still can’t believe he did that.”

“Yeah, well,
I
can. He’s threatened to kill me more times than I can count, so it was only a matter of time.” Haven looked at him with horror and he chuckled nervously. “I deserved it. I’ve fucked up a lot.”

“How? I mean, if you can . . .”

“Maybe later.” He glanced at his watch. “We’d be here all night if I tried to explain, and we’re down to twenty-eight minutes now.”

He glanced around briefly, his eyes darting between his parents’ graves as he pressed his hand against Haven’s back to lead her away. “I guess I was wrong.”

“About?”

“Probably most of it, really, but I was referring to you not saying
fuck,
” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you cursed at me.”

Neither spoke during the drive. So much time had passed that Haven knew it would be impossible for them to just pick up where they had left off, unrealistic to expect to have back exactly what they had once shared. It was still there, though, buried beneath the surface. It would take time to unearth it and nurse it back to health.