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I take another sip of my tea, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. “I miss him,” I blurt out, surprising myself with the admission, but I immediately regret my words.
Should I be talking to Aydin about my feelings for Dante? Although why not? Aydin would have to be deaf, blind, and practically dead not to know how physical Dante and I are.
Sophie too, is just as affectionate with Nico and is very friendly with Aydin. But I notice she never talks about her relationship with Nico unless I ask. But surely that’s just her right?
Aydin’s expression softens slightly, a flicker of something—sympathy? understanding?—passing through her eyes. “The war has escalated,” she says gently. “I’m afraid Dante may not make it today.”
My eyes widen in surprise at her words, but somehow I can’t believe that. “I’m sure he’ll let me know himself if anything changes.”
“He is letting you know now,” Aydin says, her voice kind but firm. “I wasn’t going to tell you until later. I begged him to write a note like before but . . . he couldn’t do it.”
Apprehension slithers down my back like drops of icy water along with an emotion I don’t care to name but I know I detest. “What do you mean he couldn’t do it?”
Aydin takes a deep breath. “Dante finds the dark aspects of this work revolting, although there’s no one as brilliant as him at executing it. So whenever he has to deal with blood and gore, he wants to spare those he loves from the monster, if you will, he becomes.”
Mild irritation starts to churn in my gut and I get the urge to turn and walk out of the kitchen yet I find myself asking, “Is he violent when he’s like that?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. He’s just distant . . . emotionally flat.”
“He’s not emotionally flat.” I snap.
“You haven’t seen him when he’s doing those things. He retreats to this place . . . you just want to reach out to him, but hardly lets in anyone.”
Tears sting my eyes. So he should leave. But even as the thought occurs to me, I know he can’t. Dante Vitelli might as well have the Outfit growing out of his heart. To separate him from it would be a physical death.
He can’t leave.
“I love him. Every part of him.” I say, already done with the conversation. Something about it makes me feel like I’m sneaking behind Dante’s back to dig for information about him. Besides, I’m still not convinced we’re talking about the same person.
The Dante I know is different from the moody, conflicted man Aydin is painting. The dominant lover who demands my trust and craves my obedience, who laughs at my terrible jokes, who looks at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world, is unapologetically bad. And he’s comfortable in his skin.
Part of me wants to stay and argue, to tell Aydin that she’s wrong and doesn’t know him at all. That he’s not the same boy she used to know, but I respect her years of experience too much to dismiss her words outright.
Plus, arguing with the staff about Dante’s personality seems like a great way to win the ‘Worst Mafia Girlfriend’ award.
As I turn to leave, Aydin’s words stop me.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
I shrug without turning. “No, I don’t. But it’s alright. That’s your opinion. It’s just . . . it doesn’t at all sound like Dante.”
“There’s something else you may not know,” Aydin’s voice drops slightly as if sharing confidence. “Dante has ADHD—Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.”
That makes me stop. I turn back to Aydin. Dante has told me in so many words that he’s neurodiverse. But I had no idea he ever had an actual diagnosis.
Seeing she has my full attention, Aydin continues. “He was almost unmanageable. He wouldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t tire. And he just wouldn’t stop.”
“Stop what?”
Aydin throws her arms out. “Everything. Anything he wanted to do. He was medicated for years, although the medicines never seemed to make any difference. Over the years, he’s changed, but sometimes he can come across as having many facets to his personality.”
Aydin pauses to take a breath. “You might notice some quirks when he’s excited or stressed, which disappear when those impulses are controlled. With loud music, for example.”
Tears spring to my eyes as I grab the counter for support.
I don’t know much about ADHD, but a surge of protectiveness wells within me. I don’t see what that has to do with Dante coming to see me today, and I fail to see why she would even need to bring that up with me. Sophie must know, yet never told me anything.
Still, I can’t help all the emotions this news rouses inside me.
