Glass Ceilings (8 page)

O
CTOBER 2015

“Did you have any proof of Delarro's involvement in your uncle's accident?”

“No. All I had was my gut instinct and Ronnie's words.”

“Did you go to the authorities with your theory?”

“No.”

I leveled her with my glare, allowing my frustrations to get the best of me. The safest course of action until I calmed down was to keep quiet, and continue to stare at her.

“How long are you going to keep me here?” she asked when I stopped asking her questions.

Her big green eyes appeared dull and lifeless in her pale face. We continued to stare at each other for a few moments with that familiar electricity bouncing around us, the time spent apart clearly not diminishing its intensity in any way.

“I missed you so much, Nick,” she added breathily, her hand reaching for mine but then stopping abruptly. “Every day I thought about you, and every day I prayed that I'd get you back.”

It took all my energy to keep my face expressionless. When her words elicited no external response she became agitated.

“Look, I didn't kill Ronnie. I have an ironclad alibi. I've never even been to his apartment. I'm sure there are security tapes somewhere from some big brother camera on a street corner or some satellite on Mars that can prove that. Aren't you guys always watching?”

Wordlessly, I rose and walked out of the room. I entered the adjoining surveillance room just as she pounded the table with her fists in frustration. Parks and Whitney sat at the desk facing the one-way mirror. George looked up from taking notes, and our eyes met. For the briefest moment I saw compassion pass over his face.

“How do you want to proceed?” he asked, looking away, obviously trying to remain professional.

Besides George, no one at the department knew the real me. Standing in that room after the session with Angela, I suddenly felt exposed. Always having been insanely private, I felt like the last hour was equivalent to a handheld rocket launcher blowing a giant hole through my stone walls, allowing every agent in this building to clearly see into my private life.

“Parks, get me on Rupert's schedule first thing tomorrow morning, and then you can take off.”

“Yes, sir.” He rose, leaving me alone in the room with George.

“We have nothing to hold her on,” I voiced out loud.

“I don't think she's lying,” he said as we both continued to watch her. “We need to let her go, for now. I'll check on her alibi first thing in the morning.”

“Okay. I also want the security tapes from Ronnie's building combed through. Every person that came and left for the last few days questioned, no one spared.” I turned to face him as he sat solemnly looking up at me. “George, I need to talk to her off the record. There are too many pieces missing to this puzzle.”

He stood and put a fatherly hand on my shoulder. “You'll probably be pulled once you fill Rupert in.”

“I know.”

“I got your back, you know that, Nick.”

“I know,” I repeated. He patted my shoulder and left the room.

Through the mirror, Angela covered her eyes with her hands as her body shook from her sobs. I watched for a few minutes with the need to wrap her in my arms to comfort her overwhelming me.

I remembered the day she called with the horrible news about her uncle. That was the last time I felt this intense need to protect her. Through the phone I felt every ounce of her angst as she cried for her family. If circumstances had been different back then, and I hadn't just started my new job, I would have hopped a flight to go to her, simply to hold her and try to lessen her pain.

The emotions that I had felt that night flooded me as I continued to watch her falling apart before my eyes. Suddenly, she pulled her hands away from her face, wiped her eyes, and stared straight at the one-way mirror. Eerily, our eyes locked, almost like she knew exactly where I was standing.

I purposefully waited ten more minutes before turning off the recording device and reentering room three. She was looking at the door when I walked in, her eyes following me as I strode over to the table. Flipping open the case file, I turned it toward her. “This is where you can be reached?”

She scanned the fact sheet confirming, “Yes.”

“You're free to go tonight. We'll be in touch.” I snatched the file with one hand and hastily made my way to the door.

“Nick…”

“What?” With my back to her, I pinched the bridge of my nose while waiting for her to continue.

“I have something I really need to tell you, but not here.”

I jolted around, leveling her with my glare. “From what I gather, you have a lot you still need to tell me. You haven't told me shit, Angela. I don't think you understand how serious you being here really is.”

She stood defiantly, grabbed her bag, and slowly walked to where I stood. Without the metal table separating us, without two sets of eyes watching us, I wasn't confident my resolve would hold.

“I didn't kill him, Nick.” She looked up at me with a sad smile on her lips. “I'm not sorry he's dead, though. I would fight the devil himself to protect the people I love most in this world.”

J
ANUARY 2014

Uncle Carmine was the definition of jolly. The man radiated joy, loved life, relished the simple things. Knowing him, he would rather we hung out at one of his homes, blasting Sinatra music and feasting on Italian antipasto, than sit in a stuffy church crying over him.

The sound of the organ, the smell of incense, and the sobs coming from my relatives were making me physically ill. In a trance, I watched the priest deliver the eulogy, wondering if my uncle was looking down at this scene while shaking his head.

He would've hated his funeral.

I guess grief can temporarily dull common sense and logic, because his wife and kids would've realized this disconnect if they were all thinking clearly.

He passed a few weeks after his accident, never regaining consciousness, never giving his family a chance to say their goodbyes. His brakes had failed, sending him careening off the highway into a ditch.

Ronnie's comments sat heavily in the back of my mind. I needed to tell someone, but feared if my gut instincts were indeed true what that meant…and, if what Ronnie said was true, then why had my uncle hid a relationship with Ronnie's father?

My eyes moved over to where my dad sat in the front row, sandwiched between my aunt and my mom. His head was bowed, his eyes closed. Did my father know? My uncle was an open book. Opposite my dad in every way, who was much more private and reserved.

The last few years he was estranged from his brother, but their love for one another never wavered. Their wives tried desperately to have them make amends; my uncle was more than willing to as well, but my dad remained stubbornly firm in his stance. No one ever knew what caused the angst between the brothers, and we weren't successful in repairing their relationship.

The priest said the closing prayer before the organist began “Be Not Afraid.” I always hated that song, associating it with funerals. Listening to the familiar melody didn't soothe me as it should have but instead made me feel nauseated.

The entire day was draining on so many levels. Hordes of people came to pay their respects to a man who was clearly loved by all. The hours that stretched between the funeral, the burial, and the repast ticked by excruciatingly slowly. I lost count how many times during the course of the day I asked my uncle to forgive me for wanting his funeral to be over with already.

“You okay, kiddo?” My cousin Luca nudged me with his shoulder. “You're looking pale these days.” I'd segregated myself in a corner of the crowded restaurant, fighting the nausea that had afflicted me all day.

“Are you?” I countered.

Luca was older than Eve by two years, making him the same age as my brother, David. The four of us were inseparable when younger. When they moved to Chicago, I missed Luca as much as Eve. She was the sister I didn't have, but Luca was so different from David in so many ways, and so much more sensitive. While his younger sister was having the time of her life being a twenty-something-year-old, Luca was working side by side with his dad in their accounting firm, always ensuring his parents were well taken care of, always playing mediator to his rambunctious sibling.

“He would have hated this,” he said, avoiding my question.

I let out a short chuckle. “I know. I was thinking that at the church.”

“He would have been happy to see us all here together, though.” He pointed toward Eve, who sat at a table with her head resting against Jase's shoulder as he chatted with their mother. “And to see that his princess finally met a good guy.”

It was true. Jase had been her rock these past few weeks. Their relationship came out of left field, and in the short time they'd been together, Jase effectively won over Eve's entire family. I had a front row seat to their antics, and often had to listen to play-by-play details of each and every place they had sex as they worked through her bucket list.

I was happy that she'd have him after I left, and hoped that one day they would come to New York so the four of us could be together in one place.

I hadn't had a chance to tell them about Nick and me. Nick had started his new job, all suspects in The Dump shakedown were in custody, and after my uncle's accident we decided to tell them that we were a couple once he was better. When his recovery never came and he passed away, my plans altered once again. I wasn't going to just pick up and leave without an explanation. Nick understood that I needed time to be with them while they mourned.

Until I knew for sure that Eve was okay and able to run the store without my help, I'd have to patiently wait for my reunion with Nick. I missed him so much.

Once the funeral was over, I decided to speak to my cousin Luca. Ronnie'd made so many empty threats over the years I couldn't be sure the insinuation he'd dangled wasn't just his way of scaring me to stay put…but what if it was real?

I repeated Ronnie's comments to me in Eve's store. Luca paled, releasing a pained moan while gripping the back of his neck.

“Ang, that's insane.”

“I know it is, but what if he was telling the truth? Should we go to the cops?”

He considered my question for a pause and shook his head. “Not until we know what we're dealing with.” He took my hand and said, “Ang, I need to believe Dad's death was an accident, at least for my own sanity. What you're dumping on me is pretty far-fetched.”

He was right. Ronnie had my mind running rampant with all sorts of horrid scenarios. I instantly regretted mentioning it. I was about to confide in him regarding my move to New York but decided against it. With my own brother deployed and out of reach, Luca had assumed the role for me. He's always been so strong, so confident as a person, that he was my obvious choice to confide in. But the more I thought about Ronnie and his methods, the more I regretted dumping my doubts on Luca.

“I'm sorry I told you. I didn't know who else to go to,” I voiced out loud.

“No, you needed to tell me, I'm just not thinking straight right now.” His face was tormented as he stared into space processing my information. After a pause he said, “I'll look into it. Let's keep this to ourselves, okay?” He pulled me into a warm embrace adding, “Ang, I'm glad you told me.”

“Okay,” I uttered against his chest, still not convinced that I'd done the right thing.

O
CTOBER 2015

George arrived to escort her out. I watched her walk down the hall, occasionally turning to look back at me, our eyes locking each time she did.

Once back in my office, I released a heavy sigh, trying desperately to ignore the memories that plagued my thoughts. I should've sat at my desk to comb over the Delarro case file, but instead I grabbed my jacket and headed for home. I needed air, I needed to clear my head, but mostly I needed to stop thinking about Angela and the last time we were together. The more I'd try to remember the anger I harbored toward her, the more I'd remember how close I was to falling in love with her.

I was kidding myself because I
had
fallen in love with her.

My steps faltered when I saw her standing outside the building, and I could only assume she was waiting for me.

“Angela,” I said with a firm shake of my head.

“I need to talk to you.”

“You're complicating things.” I looked around, ensuring no one from the agency was working late or in the vicinity.

“Please?” she pleaded, causing my chest to clench for obvious reasons.

Technically, she wasn't formally charged with any crime. As a person of interest, I was curious about what she desperately needed to tell me. There wasn't a doubt in my mind I'd be pulled from the case, and it could've been the last time I was able to pick her brain.

While my head ticked off all the reasons I should talk to her, my heart reminded me of the one reason I shouldn't. Ignoring my heart, I grabbed her elbow and led her away from the building. Neither of us uttered another word until we were locked in the safety of my car. As soon as I started it up, I turned to face her. “Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?”

“Nick, the only thing that kept me going was the hope that I'd find you someday. I'm sorry it happened this way, but it happened. There's a reason that fate did this to us.”

“You did this to us.”

“I did what I had to do. I can only hope that you'll understand that after tonight. Just let me say what I need to. Once I do, you never have to speak to me again. And if that happens, I'll have to find a way to survive, because I won't have a choice. Maybe fate brought us together again, opened our old wounds just to finally give us the closure we both desperately need. Either way, this has to happen, we both need this to happen.”

My nostrils flared with anger from the truth in her words. I faced forward and slammed my fists against the steering wheel.

“Fuck! I was just getting over you! I finally figured out a way to stop thinking about you every goddamn day, and here you are fucking up my life again!”

She visibly winced at my words. “I'm sorry you feel that way.” The hurt in her voice wilted my fury. Directing my gaze at her worsened my confusion. She sat proud, with the only evidence of her agony deep in her eyes.

The desire that I had buried began to bubble up to the surface. I could easily take her to my place, or hers, but being alone with her in my current frame of mind would be dangerous. It'd be easier to walk away if I kept that Pandora's box firmly locked.

After a short drive I found a busy café, ensuring we had no privacy whatsoever. She followed me to an available table and sat across from me. Not one word was spoken between us until after the waitress took our order.

We both ordered coffee, and it was delivered seconds later. I sat back, waiting to hear what she had to say. She absentmindedly held the saucer beneath her cup as I continued to drill her with my glare.

Without making eye contact she pulled in a gulp of air and said, “After Ronnie's visit, I confided in my cousin Luca that Ronnie had insinuated my uncle's death wasn't an accident. Luca worked with my uncle in his accounting firm. When I repeated what Ronnie had said, Luca became visibly upset. He was well aware of my history with Ronnie, and said he knew someone who could investigate him before we went to the police. Luca also said not to mention it to anyone yet. Luca is who discovered Ronnie's real name was Delarro.

“The days after the funeral were extremely difficult for all of us. My parents stayed a few days before heading home. My dad was completely distraught. You know all this, and if it weren't for you I wouldn't have survived it. You were so supportive all those nights we spoke for hours on the phone.”

I remembered those phone calls well. I ached for her, wanting so badly to be there to comfort her. Her emotions were getting the best of her, and the strain was obvious in the sound of her voice. She'd try to sound chipper for me, but I could tell how much she was hurting.

“The week I had the flu, and you called a local restaurant to have soup delivered every day for a week, all I wanted was to hop a plane the next day to come to you. Even though you said to take care of myself, and to be there for my family, I couldn't stand being away from you any longer. You were so busy at work on that rock star case, and even with all your stress you worried about me. It seemed you were always saddled with my drama, and for once I wanted to be there for you.”

By then tears were shimmering in her eyes. She blinked rapidly, causing them to roll. I had to fight the urge to reach out and wipe them away, but I remained still because I couldn't guarantee my willpower would stop there.

“And then…” Suddenly she stopped talking. The pensive look she had on her face from reminiscing morphed into an anguished expression. She fiddled with her silverware while gnawing on her lip.

The timeline in my mind had her dangerously close to our breakup. It was more than obvious that she needed to confess something, and I could only assume that what she'd said to me almost two years ago was all a lie.

“And then?” I prompted, losing my patience and needing to know the truth.

“And then…what I found out the next day changed everything.”

F
EBRUARY 2014

The flu was knocking the shit out of me. I felt so weak. “I guess I jinxed myself when I said I hadn't gotten sick yet this winter,” I tried to joke until a coughing fit left me gasping for air. Eve stood staring at me during the entire episode, and once I finally settled she shook her head and dialed someone on her phone.

“Who are you calling?” I asked, barely having enough breath to get the words out.

“The fucking doctor. Not only are you hacking up a lung, you're contaminating my entire house and keeping me up all night. I haven't slept in days, so time is up. None of that crap you're taking is helping. You probably have pneumonia.” She turned away and began speaking to someone over the phone. Working her magic, she secured an appointment for me an hour later.

It took all my energy to get dressed. The fever hadn't let up, causing me to shake violently with a case of the chills. As we were walking to the car, everything went black.

When I came to, my head felt like it was going to pop from the pressure. “Where are we going?” I croaked.

“I'm taking you to the hospital. You passed out on me. Something is seriously wrong, and I'm pissed at you for letting it get this bad.”

“Great way to spend Valentine's Day,” I mumbled, nausea causing my head to spin. “Don't you have a date?”

“He can wait. I'll make it up to him.”

“Thank you.”

She glanced at me quickly. “For what?”

“For taking care of me…always.”

“If I don't, who will?”

Nick,
I thought.

From miles away, he was showing me daily how much he cared by having soup delivered, calling me every few hours. I couldn't wait to get to him. I closed my eyes with thoughts of him, and kept them closed until we got to the hospital.

It felt like a year had passed by the time I was checked in and lying in a bed being attended to. The nurse checked my vitals, hooked me up to an IV, and then proceeded to ask a bunch of questions.

“Date of last menstrual cycle?”

When she was met with silence, she looked up from the chart she held.

“Um…” I looked at Eve who was gawking at me. “I don't remember.”

“Are you normally irregular?”

“Only when I'm stressed. We've had a death in the family.”

She nodded and wrote something down. “Well, we'll take a pregnancy test just to be sure.”

I think I responded, “Okay.” After a few more questions, she asked for a urine sample. Once I was done, she silently left the room holding evidence that could change the rest of my life.

“Can you be?” Eve asked. “I thought you and Ronnie hadn't…”

“It's not his.” I cut her off. “But with Nick, I used a condom each time.”

“Each time? You said it happened once.”

“Yeah, about that.” I was about to give her a condensed version, but now wasn't the time or place. “It happened several times,” was what I offered as a pathetic explanation.

Eve's brain must have been working overtime when she silently sat back in the chair. She only had a moment's peace when I cried out, “Eve, I'm going to throw up.”

She jolted up to grab the basin that sat on the end table, barely getting it under my chin before I emptied my stomach of the cup of tea and cold medicine I'd had before we left the house.

An elderly gentleman with a flip chart came in as I attempted to clean myself up. He smiled warmly without looking up. “Ms. Cavello, I'm Dr. Simmons. How are you feeling?”

“Awful,” I said honestly, but I doubted it had to do with the flu. I couldn't be pregnant. I refused to entertain that possibility. My life was a complete and utter mess right now. I couldn't be pregnant.

“That IV should help you feel better soon,” Dr. Simmons said, oblivious to my inner turmoil. My cousin knew exactly what I was thinking. She came over to stand next to my bed, taking my hand in hers.

“Well, you do have the flu. You're also severely dehydrated and have a touch of pneumonia.” He searched my chart again and added, “And you're pregnant, about six weeks along, but you'll need to confirm that with an obstetrician.”

The blood drained from my face, and I felt like I was going to pass out again. I had been on the pill for years. Ronnie'd found them just before we broke up, and threw them all out without my knowledge. When I questioned him, he dismissed me, claiming that I didn't need them. I hadn't had sex with him for weeks because of it, and always feared he'd just take me forcibly.

With the holidays and the mission I was on to leave him, I didn't have a chance to refill my prescription. Rage mixed with nausea deep in the pit of my stomach. When would I ever be rid of Ronnie? Would there be a time in my life when he no longer tormented me?

“No, that's not possible,” I muttered, pathetically grasping at straws. “We used a condom each time.”

The elderly doctor patted my leg in sympathy. “They do fail sometimes.”

Tears welled in my eyes, causing Eve to take my hand in hers.

“They had sex in a hot tub,” Eve blurted and shrugged when I said her name. “What? I'm just repeating what you told me. Maybe the heat affected it.”

“It's definitely a possibility,” Dr. Simmons confirmed. He handed me some pamphlets adding, “You'll have to follow up with your doctor once you recover from the flu.”

“How long will I be here?”

“We'd like to keep you overnight. You should be able to go home tomorrow.”

I nodded, and when he went to leave, Eve thanked him for me since apparently I'd lost my ability to speak.

O
CTOBER 2015

“And then…I found out I was pregnant.”

Her admission was a punch to my gut. “Ronnie's?”

“No. Yours.”

“You couldn't be.” At the sound of my words, her head snapped back like I slapped her.

“I'm not lying, Nick. When I ended up in the hospital, they took a pregnancy test.” Sadness crossed over her face as she dug into her purse. When she pulled out her cellphone, she swiped the screen until a photo came up. “Nicholas David,” she said, turning her phone to reveal a little boy who looked exactly like me. “He just turned one a few weeks ago. I'm prepared to have a DNA test performed to prove he's yours.”

Surprisingly, I did believe her. By just looking at him, there wasn't a doubt he was mine. As I stared at his face, a child version of my face stared back. When I swallowed, it felt like I had a marble lodged in my throat. I couldn't move, nor could I form one fucking coherent thought into words. All I could do was sit stunned, unable to believe what she was telling me or showing me. “We used a condom each time.”

“Apparently, using a condom in a hot tub compromises the latex,” she continued quietly. “Even though I felt that the worst thing that happened to you was meeting me, I had every intention of telling you. It's why I booked my flight, to come tell you in person and to leave it up to you if you wanted to be part of our lives.”

“I spoke to you that day you were released from the hospital, and every day after that for two weeks. During all those conversations, you knew you were pregnant?”

“Yes,” she whispered while tears rolled down her face.

“And even when you ended it with me, decided we weren't going to work without even giving me a chance to change your mind, you still couldn't tell me that you were carrying my child? Why did you lie to me?”

“I had to.”

The lump in my throat turned into acid. I had no idea how to process the fact that I was a father to a boy…my boy, my son. I had a son. She hid him from me, and I couldn't fathom a single reason that would excuse her.