Chapter 11: Federal Hill

Santo drove himself, with two cars of his men behind us.

Luca was at the villa with the housekeeper and a locked door.

I sat beside him with my hands in my lap.

Neither of us mentioned the desk.

"Say it," I said at the second red light.

"Say what?"

"Whatever you're thinking. You've been clenching your jaw since the gate."

"I'm thinking you walked into my tent with my son on your hip," Santo said.

"And?"

"And I haven't asked you why you waited two years."

"I told you. I was afraid."

"Of me."

"Of the table. Of who sat at it."

"No." He turned onto Federal Hill, and his voice dropped.

"I've been telling myself something else. That you left to punish me, and took my child so I'd never know him."

"Is that what you believed?"

"For about three months. Then I read the test again, and I couldn't make it fit."

I looked out the window at the brick storefronts.

"If I'd wanted to punish you, I'd have stayed," I said.

"I'd have eaten at your table every Sunday and made you watch."

He glanced at me, and something in his face eased.

"You'd have been good at it."

"I'd have been wonderful."

For the first time in two years, he smiled.

It lasted until he parked.

Nadia's flat was on the third floor, above a pastry shop, and the door stood wide open.

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