There was a long, pregnant pause. “Why?” Vera asked finally. “What did she say to you?”
“I asked you the question, Vera. Did you see Emma or not?”
“Yes. We spoke briefly.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that when I asked you on Wednesday? You claimed you hadn’t spoken to her at all, that she’d never arrived there to your knowledge. What did you say to her?” he seethed.
“Only the truth, Vanni.”
“What particular brand of the truth are you referring to?” he bit out, vaguely aware that the waitress cast a concerned glance his way. Anger was making him inappropriately loud.
“I told her I didn’t think things would work out between you two. Emma seemed to agree, after she’d given it some thought.”
He froze.
“You told her . . . you didn’t think things would work out?” he finally got out in disbelieving fury.
“She wasn’t right for you, Vanni.”
“Who the hell are you to decide that? Isn’t that for Emma to decide? And me?”
“I was just trying to be realistic. I thought—”
Vanni turned toward the window, trying to block the rage that blasted through him like an inferno from the other customers in the restaurant.
“I don’t care what the hell you thought. Emma told me you didn’t like her, but I never actually thought you’d do something this outrageous. You had no right. Stay away from her,” Vanni grated out, barely containing his wrath. “And stay away from me, too. It’s going to be a while before I can take looking at your face again.”
He hung up, immune to the muted sounds of Vera’s pleas and protests.
* * *
“Emma?” Amanda called, halting Emma’s exit from the apartment. Her sister caught up with her in the front entryway. Emma looked over he
r shoulder, her hand on the knob. Amanda’s hair was tousled and she looked sleepy and alarmed at once. “I thought I heard you out here. You’re not leaving already? It’s not even seven yet, and I heard you up last night. You can’t have slept much. Again,” Amanda added pointedly.
“I’m sorry if I kept you up,” Emma apologized woodenly.
“Don’t worry about it. But why are you leaving so early?”
“I have some paperwork I can get a jump on at the office,” Emma said. She reluctantly met Amanda’s stare. “It’s better than just lying in bed . . . thinking.”
Amanda’s mouth tightened. Amanda knew what her sister was thinking about, but Emma doubted Amanda knew how she was feeling. At times, she just felt numb, but at other times when she wondered if she’d ever see Vanni again, a great wave of pain would surge into the empty hole inside her.
And what if that witch told him about Cristina and Laurel, despite it all? The thought made her physically ill.
“It’s just better for me to keep busy,” Emma said, feeling that wave of misery rising even now. She turned and twisted the doorknob.
“But you look so tired,” Amanda protested.
“This is better,” Emma assured before she plunged out the door.
Much better than just lying there, stewing in my misery.
Ten minutes later, she paused at a stoplight in a right-hand-turn lane, preparing to turn onto the road where her hospice was located. She’d driven briefly on this very same road on the day she’d been with Vanni going to Cristina’s funeral. It must have been a hell on earth for Cristina to spend those final weeks in Vanni’s home, knowing her son was there in the house, living off his charity, knowing he refused to see her because of their tragic history. It’d literally been a hell, and yet she’d chosen her fate. Did she think she deserved to be punished? Is that why she’d done it? She needn’t have gone to the Breakers if she didn’t want to. She could have spent her last days alone in her condominium with someone like Emma or one of her coworkers dropping in on her for an hour or two every day.
No, Cristina definitely had chosen to spend her last days near Vanni, knowing it would be bittersweet and painful. She hadn’t been weak, in the end. She embraced the pain.
Was embracing the pain what Vanni did every day of his life? He certainly hadn’t run from it. If anything, part of him had thought he’d deserved that pain.