“To try to break us apart.”
The answer irritated Vincent, and he dropped his fork. “Have you not been listening? You think I get off on toying with others? Do you honestly think your mother would’ve married me had I been that horrible?”
“I don’t know. I have no idea what was going on in Mom’s head, but I’m sure she wouldn’t be happy about what you’re doing with Haven.”
“You were young when she died, and frankly, your view is skewed. I’ve done a lot over the years that would disappoint your mother, but buying the girl isn’t one of them.”
“Buying her? You think my mom would be okay with that? You’re sick!”
Vincent slammed his fist against the table. “Who are you to talk to me like that? Look how you treat everyone!”
“And whose fucking fault is that, huh?” Carmine pushed his chair back as he stood. “Whose fault is it I’m fucked up? Whose fault is it I had to watch her die?”
Vincent glared at him. “Not mine.”
A voice cleared beside them as the manager approached. Others stared, disturbed by the commotion. Vincent pulled some cash from his wallet, throwing it down on the table before walking out.
* * *
Not a word was spoken during the drive. When they reached the house, Carmine tried to get out, but Vincent stopped him.
“I had you do it so you’d see what you were getting into. She’s been cut off from everything, Carmine. In the confines of the house, maybe things are great, but that’s not the real world. On the off chance you get to be together, I figured it was better if you had experience dealing with that part of her. It’s going to be there every step of the way, because when you’re raised like she was, you don’t have the know-how to live any other way. I tried to help you, not hurt you.”
Carmine opened his mouth to speak, but his father continued before he could. “You think your mother would be disappointed I brought her into this house? I think you’re wrong. Would she like it? No. I don’t even like it. But I think your mother would’ve been disappointed had I thrown the child into the world blindly. Society would’ve eaten her alive. Probably still will.”
Carmine had been focused on everything his father was doing wrong and never considered what might be helping Haven.
“She needs a semblance of her normal before she can be introduced to ours,” Vincent continued. “You love her? Fine, love her. But don’t contradict me. This isn’t fun, Carmine. I’m not enjoying this, but I’m doing it and that should be enough to earn your respect. You have to stop acting like you’re powerful and wise, because you’re neither. You need to grasp that, son, or I’m going to lose you like I lost your mother.”
Vincent got out, slamming the door so hard the windows vibrated.
* * *
Haven lay in the middle of Carmine’s bed, sprawled out on her back when he entered. He took off his coat and shoes before lying down beside her. Haven’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked a few times, smiling when they made eye contact.
“La mia bella ragazza,” he said. “Napping in the afternoon?”
“I ran out of stuff to do,” she said. “Everything’s clean.”
He sighed. “A nap actually sounds good right now.”
She eyed him curiously. “Bad day?”
“It was confusing, but I wouldn’t call it bad,” he said. “Any day that includes lying in bed with you, tesoro, can’t be bad.”
She ran her fingertips across his lips. “I missed you.”
“Mi sei mancata,” he said. “That’s ‘I missed you’ in Italian.”
“Well, mi sei mancata, too.”
He laughed. “I’m a guy, so you say, mancato. You know, with an o and not an a.”
“Mi sei mancato,” she repeated.
“There you go! Watch out, look at my girl getting bilingual.”
* * *
Haven sat back on her knees, humming to herself as she surveyed the sparkling kitchen floor. She’d been scrubbing it for more than an hour, removing the black scuff marks from the marble tile. Dr. DeMarco never spoke to her about cleaning. The rare occasions she forgot to do something, he overlooked it. Sometimes she felt like she was living in another universe with how drastically her life had changed. She never imagined living an existence where she could throw down the broom and put the laundry on hold to catch a television program in the middle of the afternoon.
A lot of it happened without her realizing it. Before she had come to the DeMarco house, she was constantly focused on tasks to stay out of trouble, but now she thought about herself more.
And that was something she had never been allowed to do before.
She stood, catching a glimpse of something when she turned around. Dr. DeMarco stood in the doorway, watching her silently. It was noon, and she hadn’t realized someone was home. “Are you hungry, sir?”
He nodded. “You can make some lunch, dolcezza. We’ll watch TV while we eat.”
She blinked a few times after he walked out. We?
After making some chicken salad sandwiches and distractedly throwing together two cherry Cokes, Haven headed into the family room. Dr. DeMarco lounged in a chair with his legs stretched out in front of him, his smile falling when he took his lunch.
She sat down on the couch and picked at her sandwich as he took a sip of his drink. “Can I ask you something, child?”
“Yes, sir.”
He pulled a cherry out of his soda. “Did you make these on your own, or did my son ask you to?”
“I made it on my own. I wanted to be nice.”
“Interesting.”
“Is something wrong with that?” she asked.
“No, I was just curious,” he said. “I’m curious about a lot, actually.”