I nodded. “He didn’t have to, and he certainly didn’t have to keep us, especially when my sister started to get so difficult,” I said. “But he did.”
“You still don’t owe him, Daniela,” she said.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I still owe my mother,” I said.
“If your mother loved you, and I know she did, she wouldn’t want you to apologize for him, or do anything else for him,” she said.
She looked at me with knowing eyes that made me want to hide but also made it impossible for me to move.
“What are you saying, Senna?” I asked.
“I see how Sergei has changed, and I see how you look at him. I also know that this world can tear at that, make it easy to forget what’s important. Don’t do that, Daniela. Don’t give up what could be your life, especially not for Santo Carmelli,” she said.
Her expression was scornful now, but I didn’t blame her.
“I care about him, and I can’t forget what he did for me,” I said.
My eyes began to well with tears, and Senna reached for my hand.
Where she had been angry just moments ago, she was now serene.
“He’s your father. No one blames you for that,” she said.
“But…?” I asked.
“But you don’t owe him your life.” She nodded, patted my hand. “I need to go check on Luka,” she said, standing.
It was only after she had left the kitchen that the first hot tear hit my cheek.
What was I doing?
There was no way to pretend or deny the truth. I loved Sergei, and as much as I would always love my mother, be grateful to Santo, I wouldn’t risk my future with him for anyone.
I reached for the paper towels on the table, wiping the ridged paper against my cheek.
I had a choice to make.
I prayed it would be the right one.
Twenty-Two
Daniela
I parked and got out of the car, again in no hurry to enter the small bungalow that my father now called home.
But I eventually made it to the door and knocked. I stood to the side, having remembered his warning that standing in front of the door was for idiots and dead people.
“It’s me, Daddy,” I called.
I heard shuffling feet, and then he unlocked the door and ushered me in.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
He’d shut the door and now stood in front of it, blocking me in.
“I came to check on you. Looks like you’re doing better,” I said.
And it did. The bruises had all faded. There was no more pain in his step, no grimace on his face. Santo was as he had always been.
To my surprise, I wasn’t happy about that.
“Got a new place after Rita left,” he said. “You took care of her?”
“She was taken care of,” I replied.
He nodded, the motion tight but containing as much approval as I would ever expect from him. He pushed past the door and then went to the small couch where he clearly had been sitting before.
“Michael, she’s by herself,” he yelled.
I looked toward the back hallway and watched as Michael materialized.
“It’s so easy to sneak up on you even when you’re not occupied,” he said, something like malice in his eyes. A hot flush broke out over my skin, but I refused to betray any emotion. I had nothing to be ashamed of, but I couldn’t tell that from the way Michael looked at me as if I were a traitor. Worse.
“I didn’t realize I needed to keep my guard up around my father,” I said, proud when my voice stayed strong.
He didn’t respond but instead turned and walked to Santo.
“Michael, I’d like to speak to my father alone,” I said.
I felt my eyes on Michael, but felt Santo’s intense eyes on us, shifting back and forth, sizing each of us up.
“I thought we trusted each other. Is there something that you can’t talk about in front of me?” he said.
A direct challenge. Not Michael’s usual style, and not something I would tolerate.
“A family matter,” I said.
I wondered how far he would dare push this. I didn’t know if I had Santo on my side, but I needed to prove this point. I wouldn’t take this disrespect from him or anyone else.
Then he exhaled, and I saw that he was relenting.
“Mr. Carmelli, I’ll give you a call,” he said. He nodded at me curtly. “Daniela.”
He walked past me, not looking at me again as he exited the house.
“Huh,” Santo said.
“What?” I asked as I went to sit on the opposite side of the sofa. I didn’t really want to, but standing awkwardly in the middle of the room wasn’t a good option.
“I always thought you and him were going to end up together,” he said.
“You would have approved of that?” I asked. I didn’t really care about his answer, but I was curious enough to ask.