Never Truth

17

“Your work is remarkable, always has been.” My dad’s rumbling voice filled the room, and I glanced back in greeting. Considering his occupation, he could seem surprisingly ordinary. He looked like any other middle-aged man, well dressed and fit. He was attractive but otherwise average to the unsophisticated eye. I was always torn on my feelings toward him. I respected that he’d taken down the men who killed my brother, but if it hadn’t been for his choices in life, my brother would have likely still been alive. Because of that, I’d never been able to get close to him. However, the older I got, the more leeway I gave him because I realized that my genes had come directly from him, and I was no better. “Thanks, Dad. You need something?” I asked, setting down my brush. I cut right to the chase because I wasn’t interested in company. My mood had remained decidedly dark since the day before. “Not really. I wanted to thank you for indulging your mother with the party. You know how much she loves her parties.” “Yeah, I know, even if she is meddling where she has no business,” I griped, eyes on my fidgeting hands. “Try to remember there are two sides to every story.” Is that what you’d say if I invited your enemies over for tea? I desperately wanted to ask but kept my lips tightly sealed. He knew I wanted nothing to do with Nico, yet he still supported my mother in her plotting. “I’m an adult, Dad. I don’t need either of you trying to arrange happy reunions on my behalf.” The words were clipped as I glared at my father. He pursed his lips and lifted his chin. “I’m afraid it’s a little late. When your mother told me she’d run into Nico, I suggested she invite him for dinner.” “Just cancel. Things come up all the time. Tell him we have an illness in the family.” Dad raised his brows, then cast his gaze toward the hallway. “Tonight? He’s here now?” I spat incredulously. He gave a tight, apologetic smile. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Surely, my mom could tell after our painfully awkward lunch that pushing the issue wouldn’t be a good idea. Surely, she had more common sense than that. Yet judging from my father’s grimace, the answer was no. No, she didn’t. “No problem,” I said, turning back to my canvas, ears hot with anger. “You guys enjoy your dinner.” “Sofia,” Dad warned coolly. “I’m not a kid anymore. You can’t make me do something I don’t want to do.” “You may be an adult, but that doesn’t excuse you from being rude. Members of this family do not hide in their rooms when we have a guest.” His tone was absolute. He was not going to budge on the subject. I didn’t want to start my stay with my parents bogging us all down in an ugly fight. After years of practice biting my tongue, I could put the skill to use, then make damn sure my parents understood this was never, ever to happen again. “Fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Though the words were a concession, nothing was conciliatory about my tone. I wanted there to be no misunderstanding that I was not happy about this. “Good girl,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke my hair. “You know we only want what’s best for you.” He gave one more tight smile, then left the room. Once I was alone, my lungs deflated, and my shoulders curved inward. In less than twenty-four hours, I was being forced to face Nico for a second time. At least I had a moment to compose myself before our next exchange. I grabbed my phone to go clean up and noticed a text from Michael. You surviving your family? I huffed out a laugh at the accuracy of his question. That was what I did when I was with my family—survived. I was never happy. I just drifted from one day to the next. I suppose. If I need to be rescued, I’ll let you know. Rescued. Why should I need to be rescued from my own family? I wasn’t a child anymore. Didn’t I have the strength to take control of my life rather than let them lead me along like a trained retriever? Lunch tomorrow? I’m helping my mom get ready for graduation. Next week? Sounds good. The more I thought about it, the more determined I became. If my parents insisted I joined them for dinner, then I would do it on my terms. Hell, if I truly wanted, I didn’t have to stay at their house. Not everything in life was a choice, but I had to take ownership of the things under my control. It was easy to b***h and moan about things just because they were hard, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a choice. Sometimes, circumstances made that choice a difficult one, but it was still a choice. Dinner was my choice. I would attend my parents’ little setup, but I wouldn’t play the simpering, wounded puppy. I would be the strong, independent woman I knew myself to be. Nico could only upset me as much as I allowed him to, and I was choosing not to let him affect me at all. I was a Genovese, and we were made of cold steel. Being home had allowed me to regress and fall into being the scared little girl I’d been for so long. In a matter of hours, I’d forgotten the woman I’d become. They didn’t know that side of me, but they didn’t know a lot of things. It was no surprise Michael was the one to remind me, even if that hadn’t been his intention. Michael had been my lifeline after Nico left. He picked me up off the ground, dusted me off, and helped me find myself. In my family, we all had secrets, and Michael was mine.