Sweetest Sorrow (Forbidden Book 2) (45 page)

"Fine," she grumbled, shoving away from him. "I'll go, but you better save me some damn pizza, Matteo.
With
pickles."

"Whatever you want."

Genna pressed a quick peck to his lips and stalked away, grumbling. Gabriella couldn't make out most of the words, something about bossy Barsantis. Her footsteps echoed through the building as she stomped down the stairs.

"Does she not
want
to see Dante?"

"Oh, no, she does." Matty stepped into the apartment. "She just gets mean when she's scared. Galante family trait."

"Ah, right." Gabriella shut the door, bending down to pick up her bowl and clean up the macaroni. "I've seen her brother do that."

"So have I," Matty said. "It's what killed Enzo."

S
oft
, fluffy flakes fell from the night sky, a splattering of white in the stark darkness. Dante sat on the damp railing of the second-story balcony, his legs dangling over the side. His laces hung loose, swaying, his shoes on the verge of falling off.

Coldness seeped through his dark sweats and the NY Mets shirt he wore, but the liquor running through his veins, radiating out through his pores, proved enough to keep him warm. He was probably dying from fucking hypothermia, but he sure didn't feel it.

His nerves were
numb
.

The doors to the balcony stood wide open, letting cold air burst through, into the quiet house. Behind him, Genna's bedroom. She'd always loved the balcony. How many times had he found her sitting out there?
It's too suffocating inside
, she'd say.
I can't breathe
.

Although true, Dante always told her she was being dramatic. Their father had her on lockdown, yes, but Dante never minded keeping her company. But man, what a pain in the ass, not being able to take a breath without somebody monitoring each inhale.

So he got it, why she found it suffocating.

He understood the feeling.

He wished he could tell her that.

"Christ, please tell me you're not planning to 
jump
."

The incredulous voice echoed through the vacant room, striking him.
Genna
. Dante tensed, his muscles rigid as he clutched tight to the oversized bottle of whiskey, already half drank despite cracking it open just an hour earlier.

Did hypothermia cause hallucinations?

Drunken delusions?

Was he already fucking
dead
?

"Seriously," she continued, "because at most you'll probably just break your leg, and I am in
no
condition to try to carry your dumb ass anywhere."

Dante's eyes closed, his head lowering. "Am I dreaming again?"

"Again? Have you been dreaming about me? That's kind of weird."

He lazily shrugged a shoulder, hearing her approach, every footstep making his chest ache more. "I watch you die sometimes in my sleep."

"Okay, that's not weird. That's
morbid
."

"Better than it happening while awake."

Dante took another swig of the liquor as he reopened his eyes. Shifting on the railing, he swung around, dropping his feet flat on the balcony to stand up. He swayed from the sudden head rush, his vision briefly blacking out.

As soon as it came back to him, he saw her. Dark hair, longer than he remembered. Bright, pale blue eyes. Fair skin, like porcelain. Pregnant.

Jesus
fuck
, she was pregnant…

Her black shirt stretched tight over her round stomach, like she'd shoved a basketball underneath. Dante blinked a few times, his gaze fixed on it, dumbfounded. A shuddering breath escaped him as he let go of the whiskey bottle, letting it drop.

CLUNK

"Genna," he whispered, his voice strained.

Going right for her, he yanked her into a hug, holding her tightly to his chest. One hand fisted the back of her shirt, the other grasping her hair, as he rested his cheek against the top of her head.

"Dante," she grumbled. "You're smothering me."

"Suck it up," he said. "I'm not letting go yet."

She didn't argue, hugging him back. Dante waited. For what, he didn't know. Waited for the moment to come to an end. Waited for the world to stop turning. Waited for life to be over.

Waited to wake the fuck up
.

But nothing happened.

He stood there, unsteady, holding on to her, until she pulled from his grasp. The blurry image of her remained in front of him, her nose red and cheeks flushed pink, teeth chattering.

She was freezing.

But she was breathing.

She was standing right in front of him.

Tears filled her eyes, her voice cracking as she whispered, "I thought you were dead."

"I could say the same to you."

She hugged him again, smiling as she cried, those tears breaking loose. She burrowed into his shirt, wiping her face, wiping her
nose
. Her body shook, so Dante pulled her into the house and out of the cold.

"What happened to my stuff?" she asked right away, looking around the empty room as Dante shut the balcony doors.

"It's all gone."

"Why?"

"Someone crosses you, you erase them from your life."

"I, uh…
wow
." She spun in a circle. "Guess I pissed him off."

"He was already mad. He was mad for a long time. You just gave him a reason to show you his anger," Dante said. "But if it's any consolation, I discovered my shit's gone, too."

"Really?
Yours
? What did you do that was so wrong?"

"I wouldn't even know where to start."

"I've got all the time in the world to listen." Genna rubbed her hands over her swollen stomach. "Well, okay, I've got more like three weeks, tops, until this one barges in, but you know what I'm saying."

Less than a month
. Where the hell had time gone? It had all passed in a blur, a succession of blinks, flashing images that propelled him through time. It still felt like just yesterday that he'd stood in that same room, damn near in that very spot, and stared at his sister as she clutched that plastic stick with two pink lines, the world as he knew it crashing down. Until that moment, nothing had been irreparable. Nothing had been permanent. Nothing had happened that they couldn't have come back from. He'd ignorantly believed that it would all work itself out, that she would've come to her senses, like the smart girl she was, and their father would've forgiven her, like the rational man he was, and they would've been a family again, like Galantes were supposed to be. But then she popped up pregnant and Dante made himself a murderer, swearing he'd clean up her mess when in reality all he did was make everything worse.

"I'm guessing, since you're
here
, you know about Dad."

"Yeah," she whispered. "I know he's dead."

Dead
. The word felt strange. They'd all been dead a time or two, it seemed, but there was no coming back from death for Primo. Death, in Dante's life, never felt so permanent.

"Barsanti, too," Dante said.

"I heard," she said, toeing the carpet. "Feels weird."

"Them being dead?"

"Yeah." She made a face, cutting her eyes at him. "This is going to sound stupid…"

"What?"

"And it's probably insensitive, too," she continued. "Like,
really
insensitive. I'm talking worst person in the world kind of insensitive.
Dad
-level insensitive…"

"I'm listening."

"This war between them was basically our whole lives. I don't remember a single day where it wasn't a factor. It dictated what we did, where we went, what we could say… it dictated
everything
. And now it's just over and I can't help but feel…"

"Free?" Dante guessed.

"Robbed."

"Robbed?"

"They're both dead, and it's over, but like… who won?"

"Who
won
?"

"We just played a game of
Monopoly
that was almost twenty years long and nobody got the damn monopoly. Nobody put a hotel on Boardwalk. They just threw in all their cards."

Dante ran his hands down his face. "I'm pretty sure
we
won, Genna."

"Us?"

"Yeah, we're alive, aren't we? I'm calling that a win."

"I guess so," she muttered. "And it's freeing, too, but damn… worst game of all time."

"You're funny."

"And you're drunk. When's the last time you ate? You're looking kind of… like shit."

"I'm fine."

"Uh, no, you're not. You're rocking the 'I'll suck a dick for a cheeseburger' look." She waved her finger around at him. "And a Mets shirt?
Really
? Worst Yankees fan of all time."

He looked down at his shirt. "Yeah, it's… somebody's."

"A female somebody?" Genna asked. "Maybe one that hails from Jersey?"

He cut his eyes at her. "How'd you guess?"

"I didn't
guess
, dumb ass. She's how I knew where to find you."

"Oh."

That was all he could think to say.
Oh
.

"Oh?" Genna repeated. "That's all you've got to say?"

He shrugged. "What else is there to say?"

She stared at him with disbelief before shaking her head and grabbing his arm. "Come on, I'm sure there's
something
in the fridge we can eat to sober you up a bit so you can tell me about this girlfriend you supposedly have, because drunk Dante is acting like it's all completely normal and I don't know what to make of that."

Dante didn't resist, staggering along with her down the stairs. "I don't know if we can call her my
girlfriend
now."

"Why not?"

"Because," he said, "I don't know."

"Well, that clears it up," Genna said, dragging him into the kitchen. She flicked on the light, waltzing right over to the fridge, while Dante leaned against the wall. She shifted things around, pulling out leftover containers, yanking off lids and sniffing the contents. She walked back and forth across the room, tossing stuff into the trashcan.

Dante watched her, laughing as she stood in front of the microwave, absently rocking back and forth, heating something up. "You waddle."

She turned his way. "Excuse me?"

"You waddle when you walk," he said. "Like a penguin."

She pointed a fork at him as the microwave beeped. "Say that again and I will
stab
you."

"Won't be the first one to do it." Dante pulled up his shirt, looking at the scars on his side. One was smoother than the other, professionally sewn up, while the second was more of a jagged gash, like a chunk had been taken out.

"Who the hell stabbed you?"

"Tweedle-whatever." Dante dropped his shirt again. "One of those assholes. Got me right after I dropped you off for community service that day. Then he got me again, a few months ago, at a bar over in Soho."

"Why were you at a bar in
Soho
?"

"I went to see Barsanti."

"Seriously? Are you
crazy
?"

"That's the same thing Gabriella asked."

"Well, then, that means the motion has been seconded, which makes that shit law. You've officially lost your mind."

Genna filled two plates with food before heading to the dining room. Dante followed, watching as she set them on the table, sitting in the same chair she'd sat in for family dinner, not hesitating before sliding the second plate across from her. Dante glared at it as he walked over, plopping down in the chair at the head of the table, a chair no one had ever sat in except for Primo. Dante grabbed the plate and stared down at the food. It was a horrendous buffet of whatever she'd found, from leftover pasta to scraps of shredded lettuce and a crouton or two. "What is this shit?"

"Something to put in your stomach," she answered, taking a bite out of a pickle.

"I'm not hungry."

"Doesn't matter," she said. "You need to eat."

He stabbed at some lump of something with a fork. "You sound like Gavin."

"Oh,
ugh
… don't even mention that guy to me right now."

"He's my best friend these days. Or he
was
. Don't know if we can call him that now."

"I thought
I
was your best friend."

"You died," Dante said, taking a bite. "He knew the truth and didn't tell me."

"Same," Genna said. "Matty hid it from me, too."

"So did Gabriella, hence the might-not-be-my-girlfriend thing."

"Because she didn't tell you?"

"Yeah."

Genna munched for a moment before pointing her pickle at him. "Do you love her?"

"Yes."

His answer was instant.

Genna seemed taken aback, needing a moment to find words again. "Well, then, can I give you some advice? From someone who has experience with the whole 'being in a relationship' thing?"

"I'm not sure I want relationship advice from someone with your track record."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm giving it to you, anyway."

Dante waved his fork, telling her to continue.

"When the right person comes along, they're worth fighting for. They're worth the risk. You shouldn't let anything get in the way. Because shit happens, and people make mistakes, and things get messy and ugly and sometimes it all really hurts, but at the end of the day, they're worth it, because they make you feel something nobody else can. And it's better, I think, to ride a roller coaster with them than to stand on the ground alone, watching everyone else."

Dante forced a bite down. "You don't know her. How do you know she's the right person?"

"Seriously? She got you—
Mr. Monogamy-is-for-Pussies
—to commit. The girl's gotta be a miracle worker. She's a saint. Like, the Pope should literally give her Sainthood."

"He should," Dante agreed.

"So that's how I know," Genna said. "And besides, I've met her father. I'm intimately aware of the fact that he carries a gun, so I'm about seventy-six percent sure if you dump her, he's going to shoot you."

"Oh, yeah, he'll do more than shoot me."

"And I kind of like having you around," Genna said. "I
just
got you back in my life about twenty minutes ago. Don't fuck this up for me, Dante."

He stabbed at the food on the plate in silence, shoving it all around, as Genna ate another pickle. "Aren't pregnant woman supposed to eat those with ice cream?"

Her gaze darted right to him. "Oh God,
ice cream
."

She dashed from the room. Sighting, Dante dropped the fork and followed, leaving the plate there, wanting nothing to do with it. He stepped into the kitchen, seeing the freezer door wide open as Genna pulled things out, tossing them on the counter. "I doubt you're going to find any—"

Genna held up a black carton. "Ice cream?"

"That's gotta be
at least
a year old."

She shrugged. "It's been frozen."

Dante watched as she dished it out, handing a bowl to him. He grabbed a spoon out of the drawer before leaning back against the counter, glaring at the ice crystals coating the top of the chocolate ice cream. "It's freezer burned."