Chapter 4
ROMINA
I don’t answer. I’m too busy laughing at myself.
Cremated in two days. Kept me away from the graveside: too much stress for the baby. The clues were all there. But for six years we were the couple everyone envied. Who looks for lies in a love like that?
Tahlia reads my silence and smiles. “Yesterday, when you left for your checkup, I thought something was off. Now I know. You know.”
She wanders closer. “Want to know why he cheated? Why he’d fake his death to be with me? Want to hear what he says about you?”
“He says you’re dull. After six years, being with you is just routine. With me, it’s different. I’m the only one who ever wanted him instead of his name.” Her smile sharpens. “You were born at the table, Romina. I was running packages for his father at fourteen. I know what it’s like to wait outside the door. Jovan pulled out a chair for me.”
My heart pounds. Something hot climbs my chest. I slap her.
Tahlia clutches her cheek, mouth open to curse—
“Romina!” Jovan’s voice cracks like a whip. “What are you doing?”
Her face melts into hurt. “Dempsey, I only came to comfort her. I know she’s grieving for Jovan, but she can’t just lose her temper like—”
He looks at her cheek, then wheels on me. “Romina, she’s my wife!”
I meet his eyes. “I’m asking you. Is she?”
He goes still, thrown by my stare. Tahlia grabs his sleeve. “Dempsey, take me back to the room. I feel dizzy.”
His lips move. Nothing comes out. He puts an arm around her and leads her away.
My palm is still stinging. In my family, you answer a slap with silence and a ledger.
I get to work.
By noon, Dr. Leonard Shaw's gambling markers with four different bookmakers belong to Eamon's accountant. At two, I'm back in Shaw's office on Delancey, asking for Tahlia's chart. The real one.
He opens a drawer with shaking hands. Clean scans. Clean bloodwork. The woman dying of pancreatic cancer has the pancreas of a teenager. He signs a statement while the pen rattles against the paper.
I could end it right now. I don’t. A man should learn slowly what it costs to be the last to know. The chart and the statement go to a lawyer I’ve never met, sealed, with instructions I write down nowhere else.
At two in the morning, I let myself into Jovan’s study. Dempsey gave me the key. So you’d have somewhere to miss him. That’s how kind he is. He hands me the evidence out of tenderness.
The maintenance ledger lives in the second drawer. Every aircraft in the Caruso fleet. One line is circled in red: N729CG. Gulfstream. Hydraulic fault. Grounded. Initialed J.C. I photograph the page.
A floorboard creaks. I slide the ledger back and sink into Jovan’s chair just as the light snaps on.
“Mina? It’s three in the morning.”
“I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to sit where he used to sit.”
He kisses my forehead, and I don’t flinch. At the door, he stops. “I’m sorry, Mina. For all of it.”
I wait. For one breath, I think he’ll say it.
“For everything you’re going through,” he finishes.
Coward. The word is cool and clear.
Back in my room, I write the letter. Eleven drafts. The first ten are true, so I burn them. The eleventh is the one that will kill him.
It runs one page. His side of the bed. The quiet house. The baby I tried to hold on for. I end it the only way that will land:
I can't face another day without you. Wait for us, Jovan. The baby and I are coming home.
I put it in the bedside drawer, the first place he’ll look. Then I text my brother a tail number. Pilot’s in place. Wheels up at nine.
At eight, I take Jovan off Althea’s mantel. She’s at early Mass. In the hall, I run into Jovan coming out of Tahlia’s room. He sees the urn in my arms and goes pale.
“Mina, about yesterday. I’m sorry I yelled. But you shouldn’t have hit Tahlia.”
“I’m taking Jovan out for some air.” I lean on every word. “You should stay home with Tahlia.”
His shoulders ease. Relief. “Go. The air will do you good. Come back early. I’ll have Rosa make the risotto you like.”
I nod. As we pass, my eyes harden.
Jovan Caruso, you love playing dead? Wait till you see the gift I’ve prepared.
