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“And why do you assume it is you who will do the dragging?” Sister Pip inquired.
Roman frowned at her in shock. And insult. “Angel is one of the best human beings on the face of the Earth. She—” He broke off when the Sister chuckled, holding up her hand for silence.
“Your immediate defense of her is endearing. But that is not what I meant. I meant that perhaps she would be the one dragging you,” she clarified. “Up, that is. Not down.”
He thought about how he’d just spent the last thirty minutes or so and could only shake his head. “I am what I am, Sister. The things that I’ve done? They can’t be undone.”
“And why would you want them to be?” she asked briskly. “Those choices got you to where you are—in this very moment.”
Roman opened his mouth, only to close it with a snap. He wasn’t sure what the correct answer was. He had many regrets in his life, but meeting Angel would never be one of them.
“Do you know why I chose the name Philomena when I entered the convent?” Sister Pip went on. Roman shook his head silently. “Because Philomena is the Patron Saint of lost causes. I’ve always been drawn to the underdog and the downtrodden. Those lost souls who feel unseen and unlovable.”
Roman scoffed in a self-deprecating way. “That certainly fits me.”
“But do you know what I’ve discovered, sharing my mission here at Lighthouse and on the streets?” she asked, continuing on before he could answer. “There is no such thing as a lost cause. Only those still seeking the light.”
“Seeking the light...” Roman murmured. “My mother used to tell me the same thing. ‘Follow the light, and you’ll never be lost,’ she would say.”
“Such a wise woman, Luciana was,” Sister Pip concurred, patting his knee in a maternal way.
Roman lowered his head, blinking rapidly. It took him a moment before he was able to reply, “She was.”
“Oh, will you look at that.” Sister Philomena pointed to the small outbuilding at the rear of the courtyard. It had a stained-glass window. “The sun is rising on another day.”
Roman looked up, finding the first rays of the sun shining through the red and purple glass. It created a beautiful pattern on the pavement. Perhaps it was the unevenness of the stones, or just his tired brain, but the shape the sunlight made looked very much like an arrow. “It looks like an arrow,” he murmured out loud.
Sister Pip made a sound of agreement. “Funny about that. I wonder where the light is pointing?”
It was pointing directly east, where he knew Omertà was. And where Angel was resting in his bed. He looked apprehensively at the older woman from the corner of his eye. “You’re a scary woman.”
Sister Philomena laughed. “Oh, my boy.” She stood up and patted him on the cheek. “You have no idea. Now, scoot. Follow the light. And embrace your woman wholly, just as she has embraced you.”
“Wait, how did you know she...” But she was already gone.
Roman shivered. Yep, she is one scary-ass nun, he decided and hightailed it out of there fast.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
When Roman returned, he nodded to his men in thanks, sending them away to guard the entrance rather than the interior of his apartment. He wanted to be alone with Angel. He made his way to his personal wing, finding Luca and Claire still there, along with the two dogs.
“Everything okay?” Luca asked, coming to give Roman a hug.
Roman returned the affection. “Everything has been sorted,” he replied vaguely. “How is Angel?”
“She got up a little while ago. She was steady on her feet. I tried to get her to eat, but she said she wasn’t ready. She has been drinking water, though,” Claire reported.
Roman released a pent-up breath. “Okay. Thank you.”
“She’s in the shower,” Luca added, looking worried. “But she’s been in there for a long time.”
“I’ll handle it. Thanks for staying with her.” It was a dismissal, and they knew it. They mumbled a few more words before leaving quickly, taking Mario and Luigi with them.
Roman went into his bedroom to find his bed unmade and the sound of the shower running in his ensuite. Smith and Wesson were curled together in the soft cat cave in his walk-in closet. They looked very comfy.
He knocked on the half-closed bathroom door. “Angel? Can I come in?” When he received no response, he pushed his way inside. He found Angel sitting on the floor of his shower, her arms wrapped around her knees and her long, wet hair plastered to her body.
He quickly opened the glass door, checking the water temperature. Thankfully it was still warm. Squatting down, he spoke quietly. “Angel? Let me get you out of there.”
