Acquaintances (A Mafia Romance)

Twenty-two

Rebecca Caruso

As I shut the cab door behind me, the distant hum of the engine faded away, leaving behind a familiar sense of déjà vu, trapped in a loop from the night before. Same time, same place, and the same gnawing feeling...

Guilt.

With careful steps, I made my way home, the crisp crunch of fallen leaves beneath my feet echoing through the stillness. Each footfall felt heavy, as if the world held its breath, waiting for me to decide my next move.

I had just left the diner, my belly full of pancakes but my mind buzzing with a mix of panic and unresolved tension. The meeting with Rafael had been a delicate dance, and the call with Marco had only amplified my anxiety.

Even though five minutes had passed since I hung up the phone, I could still hear the echo of Marco's frustration. I needed him to trust me—for my own sake, not Rafael's, and definitely not for this case.

As the familiar sight of our front porch came into view, an unexpected scene unfolded. Christopher and Robert sat side by side, each savoring a cigar.

Shit.

The soft glow of tobacco cast a warm ambiance, contrasting sharply with the chill in the air. Christopher looked up, a smile spreading across his face as he waved. "Hey, you're finally home!"

"Hey... you're both up," I replied, forcing a wave as I climbed the steps.

"We just wanted to make sure you got home safely, sweetheart," Robert said, his voice layered with forced warmth. "Especially after last night."

"Last night," I echoed vaguely, sending a direct look at Christopher. Could he ever figure out when to keep quiet?

Christopher took a puff from his cigar, his brow furrowing in discomfort. "Yeah, well, your father wanted to know why I was still up."

I paused, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. What, am I not allowed to let loose once in a while? "You could've called or texted."

"Well, sweetheart, you don't always respond right away, do you?" His tone was patronizing, and I couldn't ignore the underlying accusation. The unspoken tension thickened the air, mingling with the smoke that swirled between us.

Christopher extinguished his cigar abruptly, his concern cutting through the haze. "We were worried, Beck. That's all there is to it, I swear."

"You knew I was with Rafael," I shot back, defiance lacing my voice.

Suddenly, it all clicked. That was why they had waited up. I sighed internally, recognizing their intentions but also grappling with the frustration of my brother being unheard and unacknowledged. I held their gaze, trying to convey my point without letting resentment seep into my words.

"You know what, it's getting late, and I'm exhausted," I suggested, softening my tone. "I think it's best if we all go home and get some rest."

Because I had one hell of a day, I couldn't shake the weariness that settled deep within me, weighing me down with unresolved tensions.

Turning to Christopher, I offered a small smile—an attempt at sincerity. "Tomorrow's your first day on the big Montanari case. Wouldn't want to wake up in a cranky mood, would you?"

"You make a good point," he acknowledged, though his eyes still held a flicker of worry.

Robert's brow furrowed slightly as he sensed the unease. "Irene probably fell asleep on the couch waiting for me; I should head in too before her back acts up." He extinguished his cigar, the sizzling end meeting the wood of the deck, leaving a scar on the paint. "Bright and early, Chico, we've got work to do."