“Yes,” he said, his voice growing so faint we had to step closer to hear it. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I was messed up for a long time. I never should’ve drank. I never should’ve taken my anger out on others. Especially not your mother. And especially not you, Molly. I’ll never forgive myself for hitting you, not ever.”
Next to me, Tara gasped, putting her hands over her mouth.
He took in a shuddering breath, clearly fighting back a breakdown. “I had the perfect little family, and I destroyed it. Tore it to pieces. I mean, I didn’t have a great childhood either, but that’s no excuse for me ruining yours. My own babies’. I should’ve been stronger than that. I should’ve…”
I don’t know why but I couldn’t take it anymore. Maybe because I never imagined I’d get an apology from him, certainly not one this heartfelt and gut-wrenching, I reached out and grabbed his hand.
“Hey, I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but I forgive you, okay? I forgive you.”
Then, he did lose it. Entirely. Busting out into sobs that were nearly silent but still shook his frame. Tears were streaming down my face, too. I had no resistance in the midst of all this. And this time, I couldn’t blame my current condition. I was pretty sure I would’ve lost it no matter what. I didn’t look at Tara, but I could hear her sniffling, too.
It took a few minutes, but eventually, he calmed down. He started praising the staff there, saying how painless the transition from the prison to there had been, how kind they’d been to him. Then, he brought up his prognosis.
“It shouldn’t be long now. The doc said a few weeks maybe. Two months max. Pancreatic cancer does its job quick.”
“Is there…” Tara spoke up for the first time. “Is there anything we can do for you?”
“Oh, no, Tara. No. They’re keeping me comfortable. I’m not on chemo or radiation anymore, so I’m just on the pain meds. Going should be pretty peaceful.”
Now that he’d had this emotional moment with us, he seemed lighter. More placid. He talked about his upcoming demise with a sense of serenity. As if he wasn’t afraid at all. As if he welcomed it, even looked forward to it.
I didn’t know how to react to that. If I were in his shoes, would I feel that way? Be so accepting?
I didn’t know. I didn’t think so.
For the first time, I took in the picture of my father lying in his bed and realized he was just a man. A human being. Not the monster that I’d thought of him as for years. Just someone with flaws. Like me. And at that realization, I felt lighter, too.
29
Roman
I followed Molly Greene and the girl who was with her to this nursing home place. Some sort of hospice type of deal. Casually, I wondered if she’d gone inside because she knew someone who was about to die, but it didn’t matter.
She was about to die, too.
They stayed in the damn nursing home for hours before coming out. But finally, they emerged.
Yes. Time to set events in motion.
I’d been about to take aim at her, when I saw a flicker of movement out of my peripheral vision.
One on my far left and one on my right flank.
Guards.
Goddammit. Luca must have put a security detail on them.
Clenching my fists so hard the skin of my knuckles turned white, I stifled my frustration. At least I’d caught sight of the problem beforehand.
I squinted, studying the two men. The only reason I’d been able to identify them as guards was because I recognized the guys personally.
Their presence meant I couldn’t take out the woman without being taken out myself. As soon as I fired, Luca’s men would have me in a pool of my own blood.
I lowered my .45 caliber and remained hidden. My plan wouldn’t work.
Not tonight.
And while I was bound and determined to bring the Varasso’s reign to an end, I wouldn’t risk my own hide to bring that about. Mostly because I wanted to be there to see it with my own two eyes, to glare down at Luca as he mourned another lost love, while he watched impotently as his family’s empire became mine.