My Mafia Husband Chose My Sister, So I Chose My Lost Love novel · Chapter 5 of 32
Chapter 5: Ten Years
"Supposed to," I said. "Like it was a chore you gave me."
He flinched.
Then he walked down the float, around the end of the slip, and up the other side toward me.
He didn't stop until he was an arm's length away.
He didn't touch me.
His hands stayed at his sides, curled tight.
"Not out here," he said. "Get on the boat."
His boat was tied at the end of the float.
She was an old wooden lobster boat, white with a green stripe, with a little wheelhouse and a cabin you had to duck into.
Inside there was a bench, a tiny table, and a cast-iron stove the size of a bread box.
He lit it without looking, from years of habit.
The dog squeezed in and lay across my feet again.
"She doesn't do that," he said.
"The old man told me."
"She's a terrible judge of character. She likes the propane guy."
It was such a Sandro thing to say that I laughed, and then I was crying, and I couldn't stop either one.
He put a mug of coffee in my hands.
He'd put two sugars in it without asking.
He remembered.
I drank it. It was awful. It had always been awful.
"You still make it like tar."
"You still drink it."
He sat on the far end of the bench, as far away as the cabin allowed, which was not very far.
"Tell me," I said. "All of it."
He looked at the stove.
"The night before I was supposed to meet you at the pier, I was working late on the docks. Old man Vescari came down with two guys. There was a dockworker, a guy from the union. They argued about money." He swallowed. "Vescari shot him in the head and they put him in the water. I was behind a container. I saw the whole thing."
I set the mug down.
"I went to the FBI the next morning. I was nineteen and stupid and I thought that's what you do." His mouth twisted. "They had me in a car by noon. Marshals. They said if I called you, they'd pull me, and the Vescaris would know I'd talked to you. They said you'd be dead in a week."
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