Chapter 59
Layla
The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across my room. My borrowed room. In the guest house of Aldo’s manor. Because I still didn’t have my own damned life.
I perched at the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Aldo’s words replayed in my mind on an endless loop: his confessions, his regrets, his misconceived attempts at doing what was right.
My hands trembled in my lap.
He’d truly thought he was doing the right thing. For me. For Eli. For his family. For everyone except himself. Sure, he’d been wrong.
But he’d learned.
And that was why he’d offered me the out, the new life, the new name. The ticket away from this hell I called the Mafia.
I lifted my trembling fingers to my cheek. They came away wet, glistening with tears. I’d started to cry.
And I knew, I knew this time, I wouldn’t be able to hold those tears back. I’d been holding them back for eight years. But it was time to let them go.
So, I did.
For the first time in eight years, I let myself cry. Without abandon, without filter or check. Like my heart had broken all over again. Because it had.
Because now that I had all the answers, all the pieces to the puzzle, I could cry for all of them—for what had happened, for what might have been, and for how it all went wrong.
The tears poured down my face in a waterfall, hot and unrelenting. Sobs shuddered my shoulders, wracked my torso. And all the emotions I’d kept bottled up inside since the day Vasco walked out of my life came pouring out, like water from a dam.
I cried for the girl I’d been—so full of hope and love. Overjoyed at the prospect of starting a family with the man I knew, without doubt, was my soulmate.
I cried for the girl I’d become that day—broken and bitter and jaded. Determined to harden her heart against love, against further destruction.
I cried for the girl I was now—a wreck of sadness and regret and strength and hope. Broken and yet somehow still whole.
I cried for Eli, for how much he’d grown to admire Aldo, even in such a short time. How it was like something in him called to something in Aldo, like they fit together as a father and son should.
Like they were meant to be, just as I’d once thought Vasco and I were meant to be.
I cried for Vasco—for Aldo—the soft, smart, brilliant boy who became a young man who decided to make his own way in the world. Who’d met a girl and fell in love and had it all ripped away before he’d ever gotten the chance to know his son.
I cried for that man, who’d never had a choice.
Who’d taken mine away, because how could he have known better? When no one in your life has ever given you a choice, how can you know to do the same for someone else?
At long last, the tears dried up and the sobs died down. I drew my final, shuddering breath before a sense of calm stole over me, the sort I hadn’t felt in years.
I stood and crossed to the mirror. My reflection stared back: pale and tired and determined. I’d spent so much time being angry with Vasco, resenting him, blaming him.
But Aldo … Aldo was a different man. One, perhaps, I could forgive. Maybe even learn to love again. Because some part of me had never stopped loving him. Had never stopped yearning for the life we’d built together in that faraway Alaska home.
The next morning, I returned to Aldo’s room for my normal morning care. “I come bearing food!”
His dark eyes fixed on me as I nudged my way into the room, the tray of breakfast clutched in my hands. A small smile tugged at his mouth. “You’re up early.”
“Could say the same about you.” I set the tray on the bedside table. “You’re the one who should be sleeping.”
“I’ve had enough rest and sleep to last at least a year.” Aldo’s attempted humor didn’t reach his eyes. “Besides. I still have a family to run.”
I hesitated, then slid into the chair beside his bed. “Aldo … What we talked about yesterday …”
His expression sharpened, like a rabbit that’s suddenly realized it’s in the presence of a wolf. How very fascinating, for me to be the wolf and he the rabbit.
He didn’t speak.
So, I continued. “The thing is … Eli needs a father.” I forced my voice to steady despite the lump in my throat. “But it’s not just about him. I think … I think I need you, too. I think I’ve never stopped loving you.”
Aldo’s hand twitched atop the bedspread, like he wanted to reach for me but wasn’t sure he should. “Layla, I—”
“I’m not saying it’ll be easy, or that we’ll fall back right where we left off,” I continued before he could say anything. “I’m not even sure how it’ll work, not with everything that’s happened. But I’m willing to try. For Eli. For … For us.”
The silence that followed rang in my ears, like a background rhythm to the thud of my heart against my ribs, the shallow whisper of my breath between my teeth. My hands felt suddenly cold, clammy.
Had I really just said all that?
Had I really just … agreed to get back together with him?
“Layla.” Aldo’s eyes were wide with an emotion I couldn't read, or maybe I just wasn’t trying. “I will do whatever it takes. I’ll clean things up, make the family’s operations safer. It won’t happen overnight, but I promise, I’ll make this family something we can share together.”
I offered him a tentative smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”
And then, my eyes found his. Soft and brown and filled with love, as they’d always been for me. And it was like all the years, all the heartbreak and heartache, between us and then didn’t exist.
Slowly, Aldo reached out, his fingers brushing mine. The simple touch of skin on skin sent a jolt through every nerve in my body. Pulled on me with physical force so I leaned in, my heart racing in my chest.
The smallest fraction of space separated our mouths, so I felt the whisper of his breath, tasted soft mint—
The door behind me burst open, causing us both to jump. Turn.
“Aldo!” Carlo’s voice rang out. He skidded into the room, stopped short at the sight of us. “Layla!”
I jerked back, my cheeks flaming. But Carlo’s attention flitted past me to Aldo, his expression hard with tension. Urgency.
“What is it?” Aldo didn’t wince as he pushed himself up against his pillows, though I knew it must have hurt him. “What’s wrong?”
Carlo stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. His expression was grim. “I know who the traitor is.”
The room went silent and still as a crypt. My stomach churned as my gaze bounced between the two men.
Beside me, Aldo clenched his hands into fists. “Who?”
