EleniGianna—whom I now hate—picks up on my bitchy mood after our run-in with Camila and not only makes me stay at brunch long enough to sober up but comes home with me and hangs out for the rest of the day, inventing new activities every time I get bored enough to get pissed about Camila all over again.My phone vibrates on the edge of the bathtub next to me. I glance at it. A text from Dante, letting me know he’s on his way home. I lift it and silently show the screen to Gianna.“Perfect.” She caps the bright-blue nail polish bottle in her hands. “I just finished.”I wiggle my neon-painted toes. “You know you didn’t have to stick around all day, right?”She shakes her head and stands. “You’d think you never had a best friend before.”“I haven’t,” I admit.She takes my hand, the expression on her face softening. “Fuck, I didn’t realize.”I shrug. “It’s not a big deal, really. I had friends. I was just too busy with The Greek Corner to ever become anybody’s go-to.”“It absolutely is a
DanteI adjust my tie in the pale moonlight slanting in through the window and glance at Eleni over my shoulder. She’s sprawled across the bed, as always, with her hair everywhere. I pull my attention back and tighten it a little more. Sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night like this feels oddly like a betrayal after the fight this afternoon, but it’s not as though I’m going to see Camila. And, truth told, I’ll do just about anything to keep as much space between Cal Duncan and Eleni as possible. I pat the gun already holstered on my hip and creep out of the room.Tony waits for me in a car outside, not idling in case that draws the attention of the neighbors. They tend to have their ears a little extra pricked in the weeks after the barbecue. All the accountants and lawyers around here aren’t exactly subtle about wanting an invite, but I don’t think they’d blend with the crowd. I slide into the passenger’s seat, and Tony turns on the car.“It’s my job as your caporegime to sa
EleniI blink awake in the morning with my mouth watering. Cold sheets. No Dante. I check my phone and find the usual text. At Piacere today, had to leave early, news when he gets home. I drop my phone with a groan. My stomach grumbles. I think I spent all night dreaming about loukoumades, these honey puffs Mama used to make for my birthday, or whenever she was in a really good mood. The air even smells like them, as if I brought the memory from my dreams into reality.If Dante was here, I could have convinced him to drive around to find some. Instead, I’m just going to have to throw myself on Seb’s mercy. Or, more accurately, the mercy of Seb’s alarm clock. He’s rarely awake before noon.My mood sours as I get dressed and discover my favorite T-shirt fell out of the laundry basket before it got taken this week, so it’s still dirty. I pull on one of Dante’s and scowl at myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth. Today sucks. Maybe I’ll skip schoolwork and catch up with a few of my cap
EleniMama doesn’t like the news I’ve fallen in love with Dante, judging by the lecture that follows. Still, I sit politely and listen to every word, smiling at the sheer joy of having a mother to scold me again. After that, we talk over police procedurals, her favorite show and how to watch them, for a few hours, catching up on everything we haven’t had time for in our last few calls. Gianna shows up because I forgot we made lunch plans, and unlike Dante, Mama took to her instantly. Before an hour passes, she has Gianna in the kitchen with her hair pulled back, walking her through the steps of properly seasoning lamb for gyros. I sit at the kitchen island, correcting Gianna’s technique when Mama isn’t fast enough. She smacks my hand away when I try to steal a bite of pita, and for a moment, I think I know what it was like to be Christos when we were kids. She means the smack, but so much affection sparkles in her gaze that I know I have nothing to worry about. My heart squeezes. I
EleniDespite how tired he seemed a moment ago, Dante comes alive when I kiss him. He grips my hips like the last anchor in a storm, and I undulate against him like the waves he’s trying to hold on through. I don’t know what to do with this warmth in my chest. It’s something more permanent than love, more certain. So I just wrap myself around him, slide my hands into his hair, and try to find a place where everything makes sense to me again.Dante pulls back. “I’m a little sore tonight. I don’t know if I have the whole routine in me.”That home-warmth flares.“Okay,” I say. “I don’t mind.”He smiles against my lips. “I love you.”“I love you too.” A giggle bursts from my lips. “Do you want me to…?”Dante trails his kisses away from my mouth, down my neck. “Only if you need it. I’m happy just to feel you tonight.”He’s nearly liquid underneath me, languorous and slow. I shake my head. I’ve never seen this side of Dante, not straining against his own iron control or forgetting about it
DanteThe next morning, Eleni lies splayed across my chest, her naked shoulders peeking above the blanket. Her hand lays open, and the ring I picked out for her glitters on her finger. I smile. It was time. Being “just a girlfriend” in this life put her in so much more danger. At least, that’s what I told Tony and the other guys. But who the fuck was I kidding? The birds are singing, the sun is shining, and my fiancée is drooling a little. My ribs hurt with how full my heart is.Or with the weight said fiancée is putting on my still only mostly healed bullet wound. But I’ll let El wake up in her own time. I brush a few curls back off her face.She wakes up with a snort and blinks up at me in total confusion for a second. Then, she touches the corner of her mouth where the drool was coming from and turns bright red.“It’s okay!” I try to say before she can freak out.She buries her head beneath the pillow. “Forget the proposal. I’m moving to Alaska.”I roll over top of her, caging her
EleniA week after Mama arrived, we walk along South Beach with our sandals in our hands, looking out over the water at the Verrazano.“—and then Adriani said, ‘if you get another orange from that man, I’m going to nail them to his front door and let the streets run orange with the juices!’” Mama says.I laugh so hard I actually have to stop walking. The sand burns my feet, but I don’t mind. Mama and I have spent nearly every day together since she arrived, and as much as she complains about Theia Adriani, she tells stories about her younger sister almost constantly.“Theia Adriani should meet Tony,” I say when I get my breath back. “I think they’d either fall passionately in love or hate each other on sight.”Mama smiles. “Tony is the one with the very stiff hair, yes? And those lovely eyes.”I swallow down another burst of laughter and decide to tell everyone about the “stiff hair” comment later. “Yes, he is.”She nods. “And he is the right hand. Capo supreme.”“Caporegime,” I corre
DanteI stand on the porch of my safe house upstate, fidgeting with my watch. When Eleni told me she mentioned Christos to Mama, I nearly stopped breathing. I expected demands for answers about why I killed her son. I didn’t expect tearful requests for his last words, college stories, and to leave from the airstrip upstate when she returned to Greece a few days later. I can just see the two of them through the trees, standing in front of the half-hidden grave. Eleni holds Mama, and both of them shake. For the first time in a week, I can actually forget about Camila. I stand on the edge of a towering, personal grief, knowing I was the one who caused it. Still, I’m never really sure if I regret shooting Christos. I miss the devil-may-care freshman, the once-in-a-generation running back, the bastard who made me laugh and carved a line through parties with me. I fucking hate the memory of the taste of his blood, the gunpowder that stained my hands for what felt like weeks after. But the