Page 83 of Made in Love and Blood

“Don’t you even...”

“The vasectomy—”

“You better call the doctor, Sal.”

“Hey,” he tried, reaching for her again.

She just pulled away. “No, you don’t get to do that.”

Her heels clicked on the floor as she left the kitchen. Salvatore took another minute to decide what to do. He opted to give Carina her space and went after Nico. History said he might pull a total one-eighty on his recent achievements given the setback he just faced. Nico was a runner first when it came to emotional pain. History never lied.

Salvatore found Nico quickly enough, and his daughter. In the drawing room nearer to the living room, Nico sat at a small writing desk. With his arm propped up, face resting against his pointer finger and thumb, his knee bounced a steady beat against the floor. He dead stared the wall ahead of him, not even reacting to Salvatore entering the room.

He came in just in time to see his daughter lean down to press a kiss against Nico’s cheek. There, she whispered something too low for him to properly hear what she said. Nico relaxed momentarily, leaning into Frankie for the brief seconds it took before she pulled away. Then she left the room altogether.

Again, saying nothing to Sal.

“Nico,” he started.

His companion chewed on his inner cheek before asking, “How long did you know that?”

“I don’t think I’m the person you should be—”

“How long?”

Salvatore sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Since she was seventeen, and pregnant with you.”

He nodded jerkily. “So, uh, Carmen, too?”

Sal nodded back.

Nico’s gaze darkened. “Can you imagine, I thought she hated me all this time because I’m me, right? That’s why everyone else does. Really, it’s—”

“She doesn’t hate you. She just never got to love you, Nico.”

A quiet noise escaped Nico, but he looked at Salvatore then. “Larkin said you needed to speak with me?”

Salvatore’s heart ached. “No, not anymore.”

“But, uh...”

Salvatore shook his head. “I fucked up enough shit today. We’re going to leave this one for now, okay? Maybe I revisit it with you another day. It’s not important right now.”

“Yeah.” Nico sniffed, and swiped at his mouth before asking, “Did my moth—fuck. Uh, did his first wife even kill herself like they said?”

“No.”

“Marco was four.”

“Yes,” Salvatore confirmed.

“And like twelve or something when Carmen came along.”

Salvatore took a deep breath, but he didn’t respond. That wasn’t what Nico needed him to do, and he knew it.

“This is so fucked up,” Nico breathed into his hand.

“Oh, it gets worse. It always gets worse with Giorgio.”