Page 71 of The Doctor

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.”

Not your fault.

But it was. It was my brain that couldn’t control my body, that told me to do these horrible things. Already, I’d ruined the paint job on my nails four separate times because I couldn’t sit still, I couldn’t stop scratching and pinching in an effort to ease my anxiety.

Nadia had become my new babysitter while Zeno was away. As if the poor woman wasn’t going through enough right now—fleeing a controlling family, moving to a new country with her son, about to be reunited with the love of her life—she was now saddled with me.

She placed her hand over my wrist, being careful to avoid messing up my nails any more than I already had and ducked her head to try to catch my gaze. “Are the new meds working any better?”

There was no stopping my flinch. I’d had to confess to her just how awful of a person I was when Zee first dropped me off on her doorstep. I couldn’t help myself; I couldn’t keep from scratching at my neck until I bled. I’d made my confession to prove to her that I wasn’t a threat to her or her son, with both him and her cousin, Mario, sitting right across the room.

Mario was there now, sitting on the couch while scrolling on his phone. Acting as if he couldn’t hear every word I said.

Nadia set to work cleaning the ruined polish from my thumb and pointer finger, a pretty smile on her lips.

And there I was again, unable to stop myself from saying something I probably shouldn’t say. “So, tomorrow’s the big day, huh?”

While I kept my gaze locked on Nadia, I noticed Mario glance up at me. Nadia’s smile brightened, and she tucked a tendril of her long, black hair behind her ear.

“It is.”

“Are you excited? You get to see the love of your life for the first time since you were a teen.”

Once again, Nadia’s smile grew, and Mario’s eyes darted to me.

“I am. And I’m nervous, too. It’s been… Well. I was pregnant with Michele the last time we saw each other.”

“Oh?” I leaned forward, trying to still my hand as she readied the bottle of polish. “I didn’t realize you’d come back.”

“Once.” She tossed a glance toward Mario, and the man shifted uncomfortably. “We came home for a visit. Mario caught Paulo trying to woo me away.”

“Nadia—”

“It’s true, Mario.” She put the bottle down, placing her hands upon my wrists before shifting to look at him. “That’s exactly what you said back then. That Paulo had come to the house to try to get me back. ‘Loveless marriage or not, you’re still pregnant.’” Nadia shook her head. “The exact words from your mouth.”

“I was just a kid.”

“You were seventeen. The same age I was when Cosimo and Ida forced me back to Italy.”

“I know.” There was pain etched across his face, and I could feel it as if it were stabbing me in the heart. “And I’m still sorry I couldn’t do more.”

“Mario, it’s not your fault.”

“I could have stopped it!”

“You couldn’t have.” Nadia took a deep breath, then said, “You wouldn’t have been any more successful than Zeno was, and he was there.”

“What happened?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

Mario lifted his gaze to the ceiling, then tossed his phone onto the table beside him.

“Do you know what happened to Paulo’s father?” Nadia asked quietly, keeping her gaze on her cousin.

I shook my head, and for once, the desire to itch and scratch and drum my hands upon the counter was gone. “What happened?”

“He and my mother were murdered. It was a group of boys who didn’t like Benito and the control he had over the city. They broke into our home and murdered them both, and then—”

“Nadia.” Mario was beside her before I even realized he’d moved. “You don’t need to do this.”