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“Capable?” My breath catches, the bitterness bubbling over. “I was because I had to be. Had to be the adult while you acted like an irresponsible child.”
He runs a hand across his bald scalp, frustration erupting in his voice. “Jeniah Marie, I didn’t raise you to be disrespectful.” I grit my teeth instead of rolling my eyes. “I don’t need your attitude. I made mistakes, yes, but I’m trying to fix them. You should be grateful I didn’t leave you to the wolves.”
I can’t believe my ears. “Grateful,” I screech at him, but he raises a finger. Stopping me.
“I don’t want to argue with you. You may not believe this, but I love you. If for no other reason than you’re the last part I have of Joanna. You’re our baby girl.” His face softens, and he’s the man who walked me to the park, took me for ice cream cones on Sunday Funday, and to watch his team play baseball. I melt. Imissed this part of my dad. Haven’t seen the good guy he could be in years.
Before I can accept his white flag, his eyes narrow. His sharp gaze reflects his hardened tone. “I owe it to your mother. I’m doing my best to set things right, but you need to cooperate. This is hard for me, too.”
“And how do you plan on making this right?” I challenge. His gall ignites a fire.
“I’m sorry it came to this,” he says, but there’s no conviction behind it. “Believe me, I never wanted this.”
My brow arches. He’ll have to say it. I won’t make it easy for him.
“I never wanted you to marry a stranger.”
The words linger in the air like poison. “Is it true, then? Did you steal from mobsters? From Al Silvio?”
The question hangs between us before he answers. “I did… I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to make enough to cover the medical bills, to make everything better. But it spiraled out of control…”
There it is. The confirmation I asked for—although was there really any doubt? If Gio had told me the same thing last year—I would have laughed him out of the house. But after the revelations in court, nothing about John Reynolds surprises me. The insomnia isn’t the only reason I’m exhausted.
“Doing this—marrying into the Gataki family—means safety,” he insists when I tune back in. “I swear, I’m doing this for you. You have to trust me.”
I stand up and walk to the door. “No,” I say as the epiphany hits me. “I don’t.”
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The car hums as we head to Chicago. The prison was a three-hour road trip, and I brood down every mile. Gio glances at me. The side of my cheek warms as his gaze brushes it. “You okay?” He asks when I don’t meet his eyes.
“I don’t know.” Silence follows my simple answer, compelling me to fill it even though I don’t feel like talking. Even with my world falling apart, I’m polite. “I thought I was strong. But after seeing him…”
“You held your ground back there. You’re strong—a survivor. You’ll get through this, too.”
I let out a shaky breath and face him. He doesn’t say much. Is he quiet out of respect, or is he just the strong, silent type? I don’t have a read on him yet. He’s got the strong square chin Superman would envy. But despite his gruff exterior, his night-dark eyes have been kind. A quiet kindness that doesn’t ask me for anything—other than marriage… I sigh. I can’t forget that everyone wants something.
“I don’t want to go home.” The words spill out before I can catch them.
Gio hesitates, then asks, “Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere but home.” My stomach rumbles, giving its loud answer. We share a half-grin. “I guess somewhere to eat.”
“No problem. I’m hungry, too. What’s your favorite restaurant?”
I blink. “I don’t know,” I shrug. “After my mom was put on bed rest, I rarely left the house as a teenager.”
“Seriously?” I ignore the way his brows touch his hairline. “What did you do all day? What about school? Friends?”
“I switched to homeschooling when I was fourteen. Most of my friends kind of faded away. My responsibilities made it kind of hard to hang. After she passed and the trouble with my father—I just never had a chance.”
He stares at me for so long I’m afraid we’ll crash. But the car never wavers. The sun is slowly descending when we pull up to a small Greek restaurant. The marquee is missing a letter, and the open light flickers instead of blinking, but it looks clean. “Well, we’re going to start fresh right now,” Gio says, opening my car door. The aroma wafting through the door has my stomach rumbling in appreciation. Gio smiles at the sound. “Welcome to Athena’s, the best Greek food in Chicago.”
I step inside, the warm air enveloping me like a comforting embrace. Intricate mosaics of vibrant blue tiles reflect the sun-drenched skies of the Greek photographs on the walls. The smell of grilled lamb and herbs dances through the room, a melody of spices that has my mouth watering. Dimly lit chandeliers sway overhead, casting a gentle glow that feels intimate, almost like a secret shared between two souls.
“What do you want?” Gio asks, scanning the menu. I glimpse his jaw tightening, his muscles coiling with tension. Is he nervous?
“Surprise me,” I say.
