DeLuca (Mafia Romance)

“It doesn’t matter now. Back up. It’s hot and you’re not wearing a shirt,” I warned as I put the first few meatballs into the pan to brown.

At the pop and sizzle of the oil Enzo backed up a step but he was like a dog with a bone and just wouldn’t fucking let it go.

“What is it?” he asked softly. “Obviously I did something, otherwise you would’ve forgiven me by now. I want to fix it. Just tell me so I can fix it.”

“It’s not something you can fix!” I yelled. My nerves were frayed at the ends and every time he opened his mouth, it felt like a shock to my system.

“What happened? Tell me what the fuck happened!” he shouted back.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing changed, everything stayed exactly the fucking same. You left, like you always do.”

He reared back as if I’d slapped him. “That’s not fair.”

I scoffed. “Well, in case you haven’t gotten the memo yet, life’s not fair.”

“I was in the military. I couldn’t just go AWOL because you wanted me to stay home.”

“What about after you got out? You didn’t have to go back overseas; that was a choice.”

“It was the only job that I had experience doing. I had to make money, Frankie. I didn’t hear you complaining about it when your tuition came due.”

It was my turn to be shocked. I shouldn’t be surprised though; they say that the people you love the most have the power to hurt you the worst, and from the pain his words caused, I’d say they were right.

“I never asked you to do that; you offered,” I gritted out.

“FUCK!” he screamed and paced the length of the kitchen, his hands rubbing angrily over his head. After a few laps he came back to stand next to me. “Franny, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

I sighed, suddenly exhausted from bleeding out all our old wounds. “It’s fine. Can we just stop talking about this shit, please?”

“Yeah, for now,” he nodded.

“Enzo, there isn’t anymore-” I started but he cut me off.

“There is. I’m not going to stop until we talk this all out. I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t have you so close and still feel like we’re a million miles apart. But for now, let’s take a break and enjoy dinner, yeah?”

“Fine,” I said, closing my eyes, already weary for the part of the conversation that hadn’t even begun.

After dinner, Enzo insisted that I go sit down while he cleaned up. It didn’t take much persuasion on his part. After the emotional hurricane we’d gone through earlier I was exhausted. I slumped on the leather couch and clicked on The Avengers. I’d seen the movie a hundred times but I never got sick of watching it. It seemed like a good choice since I was wearing my comic book panel leggings, sporting a riot of different heroes in different situations.

I was a nerd, there was no getting around it. I’d embraced it long ago. It’s hard not to notice the difference between you and other girls your age when you’d rather spend all your time playing with your computer and watching crime-fighting aliens in spandex than go to the mall and make up dance routines. By the time I’d got around to realizing that I actually enjoyed some of the ‘normal’ stuff girls my age did, I’d already labeled myself a nerd and just kind of went with it. I liked not having to fit into a box. I could wear or do whatever I wanted and no one blinked an eye because I was the weird one.

In college things got easier, being a nerd was actually considered a fairly good thing, since being smart was far more important than it had been in high school. Since I was a computer engineer major I was surrounded by people just like me, and being the sole female in a completely male-dominated program made me fairly popular, something that I enjoyed far less than I’d expected.

I was so distracted by my inner musings that I hadn’t noticed Enzo come into the room until he picked up my legs and sat himself on the couch before placing my feet across his thighs. My body immediately tensed at the contact.

“Are you going to keep staring at the TV all night or are you going to talk to me?”

I sighed, turning to face him. “What?”

“I want to talk.”

“So you’ve said. what do you want to talk about?” I asked, my words clipped as I drew my legs off his lap and adjusted myself so I was sitting up.

“How about how you turned to fucking stone when I touched you. What’s up with that?”

“Nothing’s up with that. I just didn’t want to be touched.”

“But you were never like that before; you were practically clingy,” his voice rising in frustration.

“Clingy?” I asked through gritted teeth. If this was his way of trying to get me to open up to him, he was failing miserably.

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. It’s just you never used to be bothered by me touching you. If I remember correctly there was a time when you seemed to really like it.”

“Bringing that up is not going to make things better.”

“So what, we’re just going to continue to pretend it never happened? Are you seriously okay with that?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, I’m not. Jesus, Frankie, we can’t just erase our past; it doesn’t work like that. I’ve spent the last six years wondering where the fuck things went so fucking wrong and hoping like hell we’d somehow find a way to fix it. I finally have you alone where you can’t run and you’ve still been throwing up walls and slamming doors for weeks. What’s it going to take?”

I blinked at him. He wanted to fix things? He’d been thinking about it for the past six years? My stomach started to churn as his confession started to sink in.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I tried, but you avoided me like the plague when I came back. I’d almost lost hope that you’d ever have a real conversation with me again, and then…” he trailed off.

“Then what?” I prompted. I wasn’t about to let him off that easy.

“After the explosion at the warehouse, when we were at Michael and Pauline’s, you came bursting into that room like a tidal wave. It was the first time in years I’d seen you look at me like you cared.”

“Of course I cared. What the fuck is wrong with you? You almost died; Eddie did die. What makes you think that I wouldn’t have cared?”

“Can you really blame me? You hadn’t strung two sincere words together towards me in six years. Hell, you hadn’t willingly touched me in six years, and all of a sudden I’m laid up and you come busting in, tears in your eyes and you crawl into bed with me.”

“I was upset,” I said, as if it explained everything. He was right of course. I’d spent years avoiding physical contact with him; it just hurt too much to feel his skin on mine and have it not mean the same thing as it once did.

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, clearing his throat. He was thinking about Eddie, he always got quiet when someone brought him up.

“I miss him too. I know it’s probably wrong to say, but I miss the old Eddie, the one from when we were kids. When we all grew up, he got, he just didn’t… God, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.”

“I know,” he said, and we both sat in silence for a long while before he spoke again. “Can you forgive me?” he asked, his eyes trained on his legs stretched out and propped up on the coffee table.

“Do you even know what you’re asking me to forgive?”

“Everything I guess, for being an asshole, for not calling, for leaving?” he said, the last one more of a question than an apology.

“I don’t know. You were my best friend, then you left. You’d always been there to protect me, then you were just gone. I didn’t know how to be by myself; you never taught me.”

“You weren’t alone. Eddie was still there. I made him promise to take care of you before I left.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, didn’t really work out that way. As soon as you were gone, so was he.”

“I’m sorry, but you have to understand that it was my only option at the time,” he pleaded.

“God, I sound like such a pussy!” I growled through the tears that had started to spill down my cheeks.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. I’m not that girl; I’m not pathetic and helpless. But you made me that way and then you took off and I had to figure out how to be a completely different person. You ripped the security blanket away, and while I’m thankful for it in hindsight, it doesn’t make what I went through any easier.”

“Did, did something happen?” he asked, the fear on his face clear.

“No, God no, nothing like that. I was just lonely.”

He breathed out harshly and nodded once, “Thank God.”

I laughed bitterly. “Yeah. Look, I forgave you for that a long time ago. You don’t have to feel guilty. I guess we just never talked about it before.”

He gave me a pointed look and I rolled my eyes.

“What else?” he asked.

Well that’s not a loaded question.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t give me that shit. You were fine after I came back, then when I came to visit you, things changed.”

I snorted. I couldn’t help it, but it was the understatement of the fucking century. “Yeah, things changed. You were a fucking dick.”

“That’s not fair. You acted like I was some drunken mistake. What the fuck was I supposed to do?” he asked, anger lacing his words.

“I was giving you an out,” I said turning wide eyes onto him. He had to realize I was just playing it cool.

“Well I didn’t need or want one,” he said staring right back at me. The expression on his face was so intense I had to look away.

“I thought you did,” I whispered.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” he said quickly moving to his knees on the floor in front of me. We were face to face now, and I couldn’t avoid looking at him.

“Jesus, Frankie. When we were kids all I wanted to do was be around you. You were my best friend, too, and I wanted you around just as much as you wanted me. When I left, you were still just a kid. Then when I came back from my first tour-fuck! You weren’t a kid anymore, but I was still enlisted and I knew I had to go back. Then there was Eddie.”

“What about Eddie?” I asked the question I’d been wondering about for years.

“You remember my homecoming party after my first tour?” he asked, as if I could ever forget.

“When Eddie came up to find me and we were in the hallway,” I said, beginning to understand.

“After you went downstairs he told me that he was interested in you. We agreed that we would both back off. Mostly I just wanted him not to try anything while I was gone. Even then, I knew that I’d have a hard time staying away from you.”Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“You made it seem like- ”

“I know what I made it seem like, and yeah I was being a dick. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. I’m sorry about that,” he said looking down at our joined hands in my lap. I hadn’t even realized he’d grabbed them when he was talking.

“Yeah, me too,” I echoed his words from before. There were a lot of things we were both sorry about. The regrets of our past hung heavy in the air.

“So after that night, when you threw me out, I just kind of shut it down. I needed time to get over you,” he said, his words slicing through my already battered and bleeding heart.

“Right,” I said pulling my hands out from under his.

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching for my hands again. “I didn’t say it worked.”

Hope bloomed in my chest, and the tears that had been slowly leaking out before started to pour down my cheeks unchecked.

“It didn’t?”

“Franny, no. How could it? There’s no amount of time that could erase what I felt for you-what I still feel for you.”

“I-” I started to reply but he cut off my words with a hard kiss.

One minute my heart was breaking, and the next it was so full of something I couldn’t even explain. I felt like it would explode. My body lit up at the feeling of his firm lips on my own tear-softened ones. His arms snaked around my waist and I clung to his shoulders, eager to get as close as possible. I had to feel his skin against mine, soak it all up just in case it wasn’t real. I’d hung onto the memories of our night together for all those years, and if I was getting another shot to make them again, I was going to take it. Fear be damned, I needed him.

I got a distinct sense of déjà vu when he picked me up off the couch and walked me back to his bedroom. It felt like we were getting a do-over, and this time, maybe-just maybe-we’d get a happy ending.

“Enzo,” I said as he set me on the bed, finally breaking our kiss. I began to shake as he started stripping my clothes off.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he murmured, pulling off my top and revealing a simple purple bra. His eyes didn’t focus on my barely covered breasts though. Instead they were locked on what hung between them.

“What are we doing?” I breathed out the question, unable to make my voice sound normal.

“We’re starting again,” he said, lifting the gold band that hung on a chain around my neck and kissing it once before letting it fall back into place.

“Starting what?”

“Us,” he said firmly. I waited for him to elaborate, but he just leaned in and kissed me again. All my questions faded away to the back of my mind as he laid me out and his hands began to wander.

His movements were slow, methodical. He kissed every part of my skin he could reach, his hands blazing a trail for his mouth. I let myself enjoy the feel of him all around me, taking my time to commit every inch of his body to my memory as he reacquainted himself with mine.

My whole body trembled when he finally pushed into me and we both panted with the intensity of it all. He didn’t let my eyes wander from his, and we watched each other as we moved together. Every roll of his hips and graze of his fingers was calculated and timed precisely to have my heart racing and a steady throb pulsing between my legs.

I called out his name on a moan as I shuddered my release, finally letting my body soften beneath his just as he found his own climax. His heavy body blanketed me and the tears came back full force. Only this time, they weren’t brought on by the dark cloud of despair that I usually felt after sex. Instead, I felt relieved. I felt safe for the first time in years.

We spent hours wrapped up in each other, apologizing and making promises with our bodies that our voices didn’t have the courage to make yet.