Trapped in his End Game (Series)

Fresh tears slide down my face. “Bye.” I open the door and run towards the door, knocking furiously as Vince watches me across the street.

A red-eyed Carmela opens the door. She doesn’t blink as she looks at my tear-stained face. She stands back and opens the door. I turn around and wave at Vince, and he drives off. Something goes through me as I watch him go. A silent howl.

“Come on.”

My attention tears back to the house. It’s a stale, musty place with moth-eaten furniture and chipping paint. I hear low voices in the kitchen as Carmela closes the door. To my surprise, she pulls me into a fierce hug.

“Adriana, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Her voice sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. Who can blame her, really?

“I’m not really sure I’m okay. How’s Jack?”

Not that I care.

She pulls back, blinking rapidly. “He’s going to be fine. He needs to spend a couple weeks under observation.”

“Thank God.”

She sniffs and dabs at her eyes with a piece of tissue. “Let’s go in the kitchen. Gloria will be happy to see you.”

Who?

I walk two steps inside the kitchen before I hear a scream. I tense all over, thinking of gunfire and bodies-

“Adriana! Oh my God!” Mrs. Cesare crashes into me and seizes my middle, hugging me so hard that I think I might pass out. “How’s my son? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. He just brought me here.”

A scowl forms over her face. “And he didn’t even come in to say hi?”

“Mrs. Cesare, it’s dangerous for him to be out with everything happening.”

Her fingers dig into my skin. “Those mezzo fanooks. I can’t sleep at night. My sister’s kids are dead.”

There are four other women sitting around the kitchen table, and I recognize Nicky’s wife as she looks at me from the table with a pity filled gaze.

“We’ll have another engagement party for you.”

“We’ll host it at my house,” Mrs. Cesare says as she unhooks her arms from around my middle.

Engagement parties are the last things on my mind. “Thanks, but I don’t think I really want one anymore.”

Her eyes slowly fill with tears, and then she excuses herself, running towards the bathroom. I watch her leave in alarm.

“What did I say?”

Stefani waves her hand. “Never you mind. She’s been crying all day off and on. I don’t blame you for wanting out.”

Is that what she thought I meant? The wives look at me with varying degrees of pity and disappointment. “I didn’t mean that, it’s just I don’t really feel like celebrating what with everything that happened. There are more important things.”

“Adriana, you only get married once. Who is your maid of honor?”

I swallow hard. Truthfully, I haven’t thought of it. Do I even want to get married? “Maria, probably. But I don’t know if she’ll even want to after everything.”

“Vince is a great man. We’ve never seen him be so taken with anyone.” Another woman speaks up, her black hair pinned in a beehive. Like Carmela, she looks like she’s been through hell. There’s a sad, resigned look on her face. “Though, you’ll have to prepare yourself for reality.”

“What do you mean?”

“After you’re married, Vince will probably get a comare.”

What’s that?

She gives me a pitying look. “A mistress.”

“What?” I laugh as they all look at me with sympathetic faces. “Vince wouldn’t do that. He would never hurt me. He loves me.”

They smile at me as if I’m a naive little girl.

Is it true? Am I resigned to a life of this-hiding while wondering if the man I love is going to make it in one piece, making sure his dinner is made while he fucks mistresses on the side? A surge of emotions fill my chest.

I don’t want that.

Unable to remain in their presence any longer, I leave the room and retreat upstairs where I hear Mrs. Cesare stifled sobs. I find a room to myself and lock the door. Sitting on the dusty floor, I hug my knees and think.

What a depressing week.

Nothing can change, really. I’m locked into this marriage. I suppose I was the moment I took his money. If I left, I’d have nothing. Nobody.

So there’s really no choice, anyway.

* * *

Two days pass without so much of a text from Vincent. I’m going crazy in this house, holed up with these women who act like nothing’s wrong. I spend a lot of time in this room, buried under musty sheets like I’m ten years old again.

I trudge downstairs at noon. Everyone is sitting in the living room. The TV blares with an episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians and I listen to their comments about the show with wide-eyed wonder.

How the fuck can they watch that insipid show with all this shit going on?

Mrs. Cesare sits alone at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette.

“Hi.”

She gives me a tight smile, tapping her finger on the table restlessly.

I’m like that, too. Restless. I take the stack of dry dishes and put them away, her eyes following me as I work. When everything’s put away, I turn around and sit at the table.

“I’m worried about Vincent,” I mutter finally.

“Me too.” Her eyes wrinkle with the pain of not knowing whether her son is okay. “But he’s a capable man, not like his father.” She gives me a watery gaze. “I just hope that, when you have kids, you’ll keep them out of this life. I never wanted it for him.”Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

My face burns as she mentions future children with Vince. God, I don’t even know if I want kids.

“I will.”

My pocket buzzes. She stares at it as I pull it out excitedly. I hope to God it’s not another notification for a stupid app, but it’s a text message.

It’s over. Coming to pick you and Ma up.

“He’s coming!”

“What?”

“He said it’s over. He’s on his way.”

Mrs. Cesare lets out a small shriek before she envelops me in a hug. Her breaths hitch with little gasps as her surprising strong grip squeezes my lungs.

In the living room, voices lift with excitement as their husbands call them with the same good news. Mrs. Cesare unhooks herself from me as the doorbell rings almost ten minutes later.

“Vinny!”

It’s like an electric shock to my heart. She runs to the door to let him in. He walks inside, wearing a leather jacket and jeans.

“Ma, I’m okay.”

His long arms wrap around her as he gives her a kiss on her head.

It’s strange, the feeling I get when he looks up and finds me. Our eyes lock and I feel like a cliche. In a few swift seconds, he crosses over and pulls me into a rib-crushing hug. My body trembles as if I’m going through a seizure. He buries his fingers in my hair and gives me a kiss on the top of my head.

Every day I buried my feelings for him. So that if he died, it would be easier.

Vince pulls back, but I’m still buried in his chest. God, I never want to let go.

“You okay, hon?”

His thumb sweeps over my chin.

“I-we were all so worried.”

A smile twitches on his face. “I’m all right, little thief. Let’s go home.”

When we get in the car, I’m counting down the minutes till we’re alone. Vince drops off his mom at her apartment, and the moment he slides back inside I give him a steely look.

“So what happened?”

The smile on his face falters. “Ade, you don’t want to know, and I can’t tell you anyway. This should be the end of it.”

The gunfire from days ago at my engagement party seems to echo in the car.

“How was it? Being in that house?”

“Don’t get me started,” I mumble. “As soon as I walked in, the others told me how I should expect you to cheat on me with a mistress once we get married.”

Another chill creeps up my spine. Once we get married. I guess I’m committing to this, aren’t I? I watch his face carefully.

It twists. “What the fuck?” He looks at me. “You don’t believe them, do you?”

I look down deliberately at my lap. My shoulders lift in a shrug.

“Adriana, listen. They’re just bitter. It’s true that I was a bit of a playboy before I met you, but I’m with you now. I’m happy.”

He gives me a smile that makes me dissolve into a puddle. Almost immediately, I deflate. Sure, he says that now.

When he parks the car, I’m ready to bury myself under the sheets.

“We’re going out, so get ready when you go upstairs.”

“What? Where?”

“You’ll see,” he says when he opens my door.

I watch his wide grin as we ride the elevator up. I hang on his shoulder and kiss under his ear, my lips teasing him. “Tell me.”