SALVAGE PRIDE

22

I’d been told from the time I was little that my parents were madly in love, so much so that they’d eloped only months after meeting. Gia was born within a year, but it had never occurred to me to question the timeline. To question whether they’d ever loved each other in the first place.

I feel like time and space are colliding to warp the world around me until things I’ve known all my life suddenly look unfamiliar.

“Did you want to marry Mom?”

Dad’s face softens. “Your mom has a vivacious spirit that’s infectious, even more so when she was younger. I knew she’d always keep things interesting, and I got you out of the bargain, so I have no regrets.”

That wasn’t exactly a yes. My parents’ relationship was never one I would strive to replicate. They lead mostly separate lives, and Dad usually can’t be bothered to deal with Mom’s antics. They aren’t partners so much as roommates, but that didn’t seem so problematic when I thought the relationship had originated out of love. Now, I wonder if my dad has lived his entire adult life in misery.

“I just want you to be happy, Daddy.”

“I am, Lulu. Especially when you’re here.” He squeezes me affectionately as Mom steps out the front door in leggings and a T-shirt.

“Are you not coming to the lunch?” I ask with surprise.

“I’m not feeling so great, so I’m gonna stay home and rest. Elena won’t miss me with so many others there, but you can call if you need me.” She crinkles her chin in a show of remorse, eyes dancing between the two of us before she slips back inside.

I look at Dad, my brows tightly knitted. “What’s going on with her?”

Dad sighs. “No idea. Come on, let’s get the other girls and go.”

ELENA HAD INSISTED on a catered lunch so everyone could attend the funeral without worry. Gia can’t help but check on things as soon as we enter the house, but otherwise, we are off duty. The luncheon is elegant yet casual. White linens hang from round tables set up all over the plaza. Each table is adorned with an artfully designed floral centerpiece and eight flatware settings. A buffet table sits at the far end of the plaza along with a drink station and a small table filled with desserts. Some people eat while others mingle, and a few children play in the grass off to the side.

Carter and Cora are already seated at a table and wave us over when we step onto the plaza.

More precisely, Carter waves us over while Cora sips on her water and pretends not to notice us. “Have you already had a chance to eat?” Gia asks, accepting the seat Carter pulls out for her next to him.

“No, we wanted to wait for you all.”

“I’m so sorry you had to wait, but that’s very thoughtful of you. We ran home to freshen up. Mom wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed at the house.”

Carter’s brows furrow. “I hope she’s not sick.”

I’m pleased to detect genuine concern. He isn’t simply saying the polite thing or feeding Gia what she wants to hear. He really cares about people, which is an unusual quality in my experience.

“I think the past few days have overwhelmed her. Nothing to worry about.” Gia smiles. “Let’s get some food. You’ve waited long enough!”

He helps her again with her chair, and I exchange a glance with my dad. He shrugs, and I stifle a laugh. We each fill our plates, then return to the table and eat. Conversation is easy, which is a relief. With Mom absent, both Livia and Marca manage to be on their best behavior. That or Liv is simply preoccupied scoping out the guests for potential dates. Either way, lunch is a pleasant change of pace, and I’m thoroughly grateful.

Livia is the first to finish and excuses herself from the table. I’m not sure where she’s hurrying off to, but I’m afraid to ask, so I don’t question it. Marca stays seated with a frown. I get the sense she wanted to follow her sister but was refused. I have no doubt Marca is much better off right where she is.

Minutes after Liv disappears, Zeno wanders over to our table.

“Z, we have a seat open here. Why don’t you join us?” Carter stands and motions to the unused place setting Mom would have occupied had she been with us. The seat next to me.

His eyes shift from my father to me before he stiffly lowers himself into the white folding chair. My teeth grind together at his palpable discomfort. After witnessing his ability to be civil, his irritability toward me feels like an even greater affront.

Maybe you should sit next to Cora, who is equally as disappointed with her present company.

“I can’t stay long. I’ll need to check in with my mother. Today has been exceptionally hard on her.”

I could tell you were worried by the way you didn’t comfort her at the funeral. I have to bite my tongue to keep my thoughts to myself. I’m tired of the whiplash I get trying to keep up with his moods. One minute, he’s opening up and helping me, and the next, he can hardly stand to occupy the same breathing air as me. My patience is wearing thin far faster than it should, considering he just buried his father.

“Surely, you have enough time to get a plate of food,” Carter says.

“No, I’m not hungry. I hope you’ve enjoyed everything, though.”

“Of course,” Cora coos from across the table. “Everything has been lovely today.”

“Excellent,” Z murmurs. His eyes lift to mine but slice away as if I’ve somehow sent him a telepathic electric shock. “I have to get going, actually. Make sure you get some dessert before you go, and if I don’t see you before then, thank you all for coming.” “You’re leaving?” I blurt, my control finally shattering.

I’m sick of feeling like a leper in his company, especially when we’re around anyone else. He can’t get away from me fast enough. And if that isn’t bad enough, he forces his brother away as well, like he doesn’t want my taint to spread to anyone in his family.

“I have over a hundred people at my house right now. I have obligations,” he says tersely. I lean in and whisper, “I don’t believe it has anything to do with that.”

Zeno turns to the others with a tight smile. “If you’ll excuse us, please.” He stands and wraps his long fingers around my upper arm, carefully tugging me along with him as he leaves the table. He doesn’t stop until he’s dragged me through the French doors of his office and tucked us away from prying eyes. We stand inches away from each other, his towering form caging me with my back to the drapes.