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When dinner begins and slices of pizza are being passed around, Domenico's other siblings arrive — and by other siblings, I mean Luca.
He's dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants despite the heat wave that forced me to wear a dress and has his hair trimmed down to a buzzcut. His nose ring glimmers and when he opens his mouth to bite the pizza, I spot a tongue ring too.
The Santino Brothers each have their own quirks, odds and ends, but one thing is a constant amongst them all — they're immensely attractive.
Nico has his hand on my thigh as he leans back. I, on the other hand, am munching on my pizza like it's the end of the world and this is my last meal. I've never had real Italian pizza, but it lives up to what I thought it would be.
I'm on my third slice when Angel glances at me and chuckles. I look down at my plate and back up at him with wide eyes, "What?"
He throws his head back as the laughter grows louder, "Is it good?"
I roll my eyes playfully, "Very."
"Angel..." Martina scolds, "Let her eat in peace." When Angel shakes his head in amusement and calls it a day, Martina turns back to me and I can feel Nico squeeze my thigh. "Soooo, Farrah, Nico said you're a pediatric nurse?"
I nod, my mind twisting in thought as her words remind me of why I agreed to come here in the first place, "Uh, yes, I am."
"What brought you to this career?" She asks and for a moment, I'm allowed space to remember why I got into this — the rush, the kids, the ability to help those that needed to be helped — and then, what's made me hate my job the more I think about it.
I purse my lips and I can feel Nico's presence comfort me. "I always wanted to help young kids, make sure they're well enough to live their lives, because everyone deserves a chance at one of those."
Martina pouts in agreement before tilting her head, "So do you see kids in your future?"
"Mama —" Domenico cuts in. While we've joked about it, that's all it was — jokes. Now that his mother is bringing it up, I can feel myself get a little awkward.
She shrugs, "I'm just saying. A relationship is based on communication and if you're in it for the long run, as Nico has told me many times —" I blush and my heart swells, "You should've discussed what you hope for the future."
I turn to glance at the man beside me as catch as he glances down and smiles to himself. Now, that's cute.
"I also say this because..." She looks around the table of her sons and sighs, "I have an announcement to make and now is as good a time as any since you're all so busy and this is the first time we've been together in a while."
Luca arches a brow and speaks with a huff, "It's something bad, isn't it?"
Her head bows. The moments sobers up. It's quiet, the pool water moving with the wind as the only sound that fills the space.
"Sono malata." She says and for a moment, I don't understand anything, but Nico tenses beside me and Adriano speaks up.
"What do you mean you're sick?"
Martina clasps her hands together, "Cancer. They say it's terminal and I only have a few months left. I didn't want to tell you bec —"
My eyes widen and before I can completely register what is happening, Nico chuckles spitefully, stands from his seat and walks away, leaving his untouched food.
With the newfound lack of warmth, I stare down at the plate in front of me.
Angel scoffs, "Always so fucking dramatic."
Luca rolls his eyes at his brother, "Shut the fuck up, Angel."
Martina sighs, "Ragazzi. Calm down. Let him be. I know it's a lot to take in." I feel like I'm intruding on something private so I quickly excuse myself and go to find Nico.
When I spot him, it's in the garden, seated on a bench with his head in his hands. When I get closer, I can hear him sniffle.
And for some reason, I feel myself tear up as well. He already has enough on his shoulders, now this. I just want to grant him comfort and happiness but that doesn't seem to be the case now.
So I sit beside him and I let him grieve. Taking his hand, I allow him to rest his head on my chest. I wrap an arm around him and hold his head, occasionally pressing kisses to it. He was there for me in my grief, what kind of woman would I be if I wasn't there for his?
"She's still here, baby." I whisper, feeling the weight of his sadness, "She's still here and you're here and she loves you and wants to be here with you."
The vulnerability he feels comfortable showing me is enough to make me cry as well. He's a grown man who's killed people, yet he is allowing himself to cry on my shoulder. It fills and breaks my heart at the same time.
"So cry it out, my love." I continue, "Cry it out because she needs you after this. She needs all of you."
He sighs shakily, "I'm tired of losing people, Farrah. First it was my father, now..."
I run a hand through his hair, "I know, baby. I know, and it never gets easier — you just have to fight through it. But she's alive right now, Nico."
He lifts his head and scoffs, "For how long? She's the heart of this city, amore. She takes care of everyone and teaches everyone. She taught me, and now she's dying. If there's no hope for her then maybe there's no hope for the rest of us."
With that, he gets up and walks away, leaving me to watch after him.
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IT'S BEEN DAYS AND I'M SO SORRY BUT I MOVED INTO COLLEGE AND so much shit has been happening with our orientation week and stuff but here ya goooo
