This year over the Christmas truce, my husband did something he'd never done before. He told me to step back from the Family's business, and arranged me a seven-day passage through Scandinavia.
I thought the Don had finally learned to care. Then I overheard him talking to our son.
"Papa, if you and Aunt Vivian get married, what happens to Mama?"
Marco Falcone's voice was small, uncertain.
"It's only a sham. A union on paper, nothing more."
Lorenzo Falcone gave a soft little laugh. "Be a good boy, Marco. Keep it between us. Don't tell your mother, and I'll buy you that toy car you've been wanting."
Something in my head went white. I stood there a long time, then turned and went down to stand in the cold of the estate courtyard for a while.
If he wanted to make up for everything he'd lost when Vivian Costa was exiled, fine.
Then I had the right to go after the dream I'd thrown away.
This passage to Scandinavia, I wasn't coming back from.
——
Once I'd cooled off, I went back upstairs and ran straight into Lorenzo in the hallway.
I looked at the flashy red suit he had on. "I thought you hated red," I said, puzzled.
"That was then, this is now. Red's the color this season. And I'm helping a friend try on his wedding suit, so I should dress for the occasion." Lorenzo reached for a fistful of excuses all at once.
But it hit me then. Vivian Costa loved red. And ever since she came back from exile, several red jackets had appeared in Lorenzo's closet. Red undershirts. Red socks.
So there had been signs all along.
"Trying on a wedding suit? Let me drive you," I said evenly.
"No, no need!" Lorenzo shook his head fast as a rattle. "What's a woman doing getting mixed up in men's business?"
"When I'm back, I'll bring presents for you and Marco."
He kissed my forehead, didn't wait to hear another word out of me, and hurried off, two of his soldiers falling into step behind him before the door had even closed.
My chest gave a sudden twist. I almost called out to him. In the end I just shook my head.
Everyone in the famiglia thought Lorenzo and I were the perfect couple in life, the sharpest partners across every sit-down.
He hadn't looked down on where I came from, the back streets of Brooklyn with nothing to my name. He'd married me without hesitation.
I worked nearly every day of the year, brokered the truces that pulled the Falcone Family back from ruin more than once when the books and the bodies were stacking up against us, and the made men gave me a name: the one who never sleeps.
Ten years side by side. We'd built more than a sweet son together. We'd rebuilt the name and the empire of the Falcones.
And only now did even I find out: Lorenzo had been carrying Vivian Costa in his heart the whole time.
I walked through the front door.
"Mama."
Marco rushed over and wrapped his arms tight around my legs. "No matter what, you'll never leave me and Papa, right?"
He'd sensed something. His small face was tight with fear.
My heart ached. I crouched down, smoothed his hair, and asked softly, "If one day Papa and I weren't together anymore, who would you want to stay with?"
Marco froze. Then he went completely silent, his eyes dropping to his own small hands, and they filled with tears.
"I'm sorry."
I held him close. "Let me go make you dinner."
He was only eight.
Two grown-ups' problems shouldn't be laid on a child, least of all in a house where everything carried a price.
We could have had the staff cook, like every other house in the Family. But Marco and Lorenzo both loved the food I made with my own hands.
I knew everything they couldn't eat and everything they liked, and tonight I made Marco's favorite, scrambled eggs with tomatoes and meatballs.
I made egg pancakes too.
When Marco saw the food on the table, he suddenly started to cry. He looked up at me. "Mama."
"You already know about Aunt Vivian and Papa getting married, don't you?"
"Papa told me it's only a sham marriage, just on paper. Mama, please don't be angry, okay? Papa loves you."
I let out a quiet sigh and gathered him into my arms.
I know.
His little head couldn't hold all those twists and turns, the way men in this world said one thing and meant another. He just believed Lorenzo, the way children do, and wanted his mama and papa not to split apart.
