Finally I got it and I also had a good idea of which decision Hector wanted me to make.
So I said, “Okay.”
He curled me closer, his other hand went to my hip and his face dipped low. “No Sadie,” he said softly, reading my thoughts. “It’s your choice to make. I’m just givin’ you the full picture. It isn’t me who’ll have to sit on the witness stand and tell a room full of people what happened that night. It also isn’t me who’ll have to listen to whatever fucked up version of events Ricky’ll produce as his defense. You got the opportunity to avoid that; I’m not gonna take that away and no one in this room, or out of it, will judge. The Zanos are givin’ you a chance to decide what form your retribution will take. Only you can make it but you gotta make it now.”
I didn’t like this. At all.
On the one hand, I didn’t want to see Ricky again and even if all the evidence was stacked against him, he was crazy enough to fight it. That would stink.
It would also likely mean I couldn’t move to Crete or I’d have to come back.
On the other hand, everyone in that room knew what Vito meant by “disappear”. Which would mean if I picked choice number two, I was worse than Ricky Balducci. It would mean I truly was my father’s daughter. I wasn’t New Sadie. I’d never be a New Sadie of any kind. I would be Seth Townsend’s daughter and that’s who I’d stay, forever and ever.
I uncurled from Hector and my eyes turned to Vito.
“Please take him to the police,” I said.
Hector’s arm got tight around my shoulders.
Dom muttered a frustrated, “Fuck.”
Ren expelled a heavy breath.
Vito nodded.
“I knew she’d pick that,” Dom muttered. “We should have –”
Vito interrupted in a low, warning tone, saying, “Dominic,” but I was surprised Dom knew my choice even before I did.
Dom fell silent and Vito turned to Ren. “Make the call, tell the boys.”
Ren nodded to his uncle and walked to me. Regardless of Hector standing there, he leaned in, kissed my cheek, moved away, pulled his cell out of his pocket and left the house.
Dom, Vito and I looked at each other.
No one spoke.
I decided it was time to move on to a happier subject that didn’t involve the Balduccis, my rape or anyone getting whacked. My gaze focused on Dom.
“I hear Sissy’s pregnant,” I told him.
Sissy was his wife. They’d had some hard times and were separated for awhile but, word was, they’d got back together and were starting a family.
Dom stared at me, still angry at my decision then his face went soft and he muttered, “Yeah.”
“Congratulations,” I told him on a smile. I’d met Sissy a few times though I didn’t know her well she always struck me as being really nice.
“Life!” Vito exploded, making me jump. “Up and down, good and bad, birth and death, celebration and devastation. If you got any balls at all, you roll with the punches and get the fuck on with it, pardon my French.”
My eyes moved to Vito, he was watching me and I could swear (no kidding!) I saw admiration.
That’s when I realized he thought I had “balls”.
I felt another warm, happy glow starting when Vito clapped and then put his hands up in front of him.
“We’re through. I gotta get home. Angela worries.” He made a move and came to me. Hector let me go and Vito gave me another hug. When he moved away, he looked at me. “She told me to tell you she wants you to come to dinner. She’ll call. Bring Chavez and a big appetite. My wife, she cooks, it’s what she does,” he finished.
Oh my.
Dinner with Vito and Angela Zano.
Before I could wrap my mind around that thought, Vito looked over his shoulder and jerked his chin at Dom. He clapped Hector on the arm and took off.
Dom followed. He didn’t clap Hector on the arm but gave him a chin lift, shot me a weird look (still clearly upset at not getting to help Ricky Balducci disappear) but he put up a hand to squeeze my shoulder. Then he took off too.
Hector locked the door behind them and turned to me. “You okay?” he asked.
Without hesitation, I answered, “I’d give my trust fund to be living a life where every other second you aren’t asking me if I’m okay.”
He bit his bottom lip and again I didn’t know what that meant, if he was trying to bite back a smile or hide his frustration. He walked to me, close to me, and his hand hit my neck, fingers sliding up into my hair, thumb at my hairline.
“That day will come,” he promised quietly.
My toes curled and my knees went weak at the look in his eyes. So weak, I had to grab onto his waist to stay standing.