Knew. Not know. Sergio is no longer present. He can never be spoken of in the present tense again.

“He was always a little dramatic,” Salvatore continues when I don’t speak.

He’s trying to make light of it. “Yeah. I guess.”

“What are you doing in here in the dark?”

“I have to finish it.”

“Finish what?”

I point to the place below Sergio’s name. Just beneath his box. The day of his birth. The dash. The empty space.

Salvatore nods. He stands and comes around the desk. “Let me do it.”

I roll my chair away. I let him. And I watch when he takes up the pencil and writes in the date.

He stares at it for a while and I look at him. At Salvatore Benedetti.

He’ll take Sergio’s place now. Next in line to rule.

Next in line to die?

“Do you ever get scared?” I ask.

He shifts his gaze to me.

“To die. Like he did,” I add. Again, my face crumples beneath the pain and I’m struggling to breathe.

He considers this for a long time. Takes in a deep breath. “Yeah. Sometimes. But then I think don’t I deserve it? I have blood on my hands, too.”

I know he does. I know after Sergio’s murder, the Benedetti family unleashed their wrath. They took vengeance for the death of the first-born son. And what a vengeance it was. What a brutal retribution.

“Did he really do that? Call you? Tell you to take care of me?”

Salvatore nods. “Drunk in the middle of the night.” He chuckles.

The silence that follows is awkward, suddenly. I shift my gaze to the sheet. Reach over to take the red marker. To draw the cross.

“Mob killing,” I say. And somehow, I don’t cry. I draw the cross carefully. Perfectly. I color it in. I take my time because once this part is done, there’s no erasing. Not that there ever was a going back. I know that.

“What are you going to do now?” he asks.

I look up at him. “Leave. I want nothing to do with your family.” I don’t apologize for it.

He nods.

“Will he let me go? Now? With the baby?”

He knows who I mean. “If what you want is out, I’ll make sure you’re out. I’ll protect you. I gave Sergio my word and I intend on keeping it.”

“Even against your father?” Because that’s what this would be. Franco Benedetti has no intention of letting me take Sergio’s baby and disappearing.

“Even against my father.”

30

Natalie

One and a Half Years Later

If it wasn’t for Salvatore, I wouldn’t be here, in my own house in Asbury Park, right now. Franco was hell bent against me leaving. Against me taking his first grandchild away from him, taking that last piece of Sergio with me.