Page 81 of Unraveled

“I need to know how to deal,” she said sharply, offering little else.

“I only know what I see around me,” Tommas replied quietly. “Or rather, the women around me. My cousin’s wife, or the women in my family. My friends’ wives, or famiglia daughters that bury their parents with dry faces and shaking hands. They’re strength, Cara. They are the picture and embodiment of strength all around me. They handle their shit far better than any of us men ever could. They cook dinner, wipe children’s faces, do what they have to do, and they smile when faced with their fears. I don’t know how they do it, because I am too busy trying to keep allowing them the chance to cook their dinners, love their messy-faced children, and have no fears, all the while. Do you understand?”

“But you’re part of the reason they’re in that sort of life, Tommas.”

“And all we made men do is make the best of what we know, Cara. Nothing more, nothing less.”

She took the time to absorb her brother’s words.

Tommas always gave it to her straight, after all.

He didn’t pretty shit up.

“Oh, there’s something else you need to know,” Tommas said tiredly.

“What’s that?”

“Serena’s body was found this morning by the maid. Suicide, apparently.”

Cara wished she was surprised to learn the news of her mother’s death.

She wasn’t.

Something else that was … inevitable.

“I’m sorry,” Cara said softly.

“Are you?”

“For you, Tommy. I’m sorry for you. You’ve dealt with her your whole life, longer than I ever put up with her. You would only do that—and keep doing it—because somewhere inside, you hold affection for her.”

“Not anymore,” Tommas murmured. “I can let you know when the funeral is going to be.”

“I would rather you didn’t.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Please bury her beside Dad, not on the other side of Lea.”

Tommas mumbled his agreement quickly.

“Cara?”

“Yes?” she asked.

“I don’t know what’s going on, or what made you pick up the phone to ask me all of this tonight, but there’s really only one thing that matters in this life of ours, anyway.”

“And what’s that, Tommas?”

“Do what makes you happy. Be where, or with whom, or do whatever you need to do to be happy. Take that risk—it’s worth it. Because this life is fleeting, and tomorrow might be the last time you smile, so it’s better to spend today happy.”

“Sit, sit!” Gian clapped his hands twice, helping to quiet the men milling around the long dinner table. He waved at the waiting seats, and the men began to fill them. “Dinner is served.”

As he said those words, two women, and one man, strolled into the dining room, each holding platters carrying all sorts of foods. Once the food was set down on the table, the help left and then returned with pitchers of drinks.

After they were gone for good, Gian waited to see if any man at the table would reach for food or a drink before he approved it. None did.

Instead, they looked to him, waiting.