Layla
The clinking of cutlery and the soft murmur of Eli’s voice filled the small dining room. Aldo’s presence was like a shadow on our dinner, turning the taste of my Nonna’s lasagne recipe to ash in my mouth.
But as Eli talked, relating the hours spent with Aldo working on the car, his eager grin nearly tore his face in two. He’d truly, genuinely, enjoyed his time with his fath—with Aldo.
And the way Aldo smiled back … s**t.
I couldn’t look at that smile too long, or it might warm the ice in my heart. The wall of it I’d built so carefully, a fortress against further heartbreak.
He looked natural, sitting at the other end of my table. Right. Like he belonged there. For a fleeting moment, I could almost see this as the life we would have had …
You know, if the bastard hadn’t walke
