“I’m going to miss being in the city,” Natalie says. We’re a few blocks from the house on Elfreth’s Alley where we just handed over the keys to a house-sitter I hired so Natalie and Pepper can move in with me.

“You’ll appreciate the quiet. Although you will have to learn how to drive a car.”

“I can drive a car. I just haven’t in a while.”

“If you always drive like you did tonight, you’re going to take some lessons.”

“I’m just rusty. And your car goes too fast. I’m not used to it.”

“Right.” I’m glad she can’t see the expression on my face. “This is my favorite Italian place in the city,” I say, changing the subject as we round the corner and I push the door to the tiny restaurant open.

“I’ve never even seen this place and I must walk by here four times a day,” she says once we’re inside.

I smile. It’s loud in the restaurant, even though there are only seven tables. Italians are loud though, and everyone here is Italian.

“It’s a well-kept secret,” I say, hanging my coat on the rack by the door before helping her get hers off.

The owner nods his greeting from behind the bar where he’s pouring two glasses of wine.

“This way,” I say, my hand at Natalie’s low back as I lead her to a table at the back corner. I pull out her chair then take mine. My back’s to the wall so I can see who comes and goes. But this place is safe.

“Do people always stare at you when you go places?” she asks. “Are they going to start staring at me now?”

“If they’re staring at you it’s because you’re fucking beautiful.”

“I wonder if you’ll still be thinking that when I get big and fat with this baby.” She picks up her menu so she’s not looking at me.

I take her hand to make her look at me. “I don’t care if you weigh four-hundred pounds. You will always be beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes but is smiling.

“I’ll order for us, if you don’t mind,” I say.

“I can decide for myself, thank you,” she says.

“It’s not an infringement on your rights, you know. It’s just dinner, especially considering—”

“No, thank you,” she says.

“Suit yourself.”

The owner walks over with an open bottle of Chianti and a bottle of water. “Sergio. It’s always good to see you here.”

“Good to see you, too. How are things?”

“Quiet. Thank you.”

I nod. He raises the bottle to pour for Natalie but she stops him. “Just water for me, please.”

He looks at me and I give him a nod so he pours a glass of wine for me and water for Natalie.

“Usual?” he asks in his broken English, setting both bottles down on the table.

“Natalie?” I say.

“Um,” she’s still looking at the menu, which by now she’s realized is in Italian and I know she can’t understand a word. “This one.” She points to something.

He reads out what she ordered and I have to grin. I can’t wait to see her face when her meal arrives. After handing her menu over, she clears her throat and sits back.

“Usual for me,” I say.

He nods and walks away.

“So, what did you order?” I ask. From the look on her face, I know she has no clue but she’s way too stubborn to admit it.

She picks up her water. “I’ll surprise you.”

“Didn’t know you read Italian,” I say, picking up my wine, holding it up. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

I drink, then put my glass down and watch her.

“Do you have to be gone for three nights?” she asks. I know it’s been on her mind. It’ll be the first time I’m away since we got married. She’s not comfortable in the house yet and she’s still fighting me over the bodyguard trailing her when she’s not home or with me.

“It’ll go by fast. Dad isn’t focused right now. Not with mom like she is.”

“Salvatore can’t go alone? Or Dominic?” She can’t say his name without making a face.

“Salvatore’s coming with me, but it has to be me. It’s important.”

“I know, it’s just I wish you didn’t have to go.”

A waiter comes to the table holding two steaming plates with the edge of a towel. He sets them down and I see from Natalie’s face she did not expect what she gets.

I can’t help my smile, but when she looks up at me, I pick up my fork and bring my full attention to my plate. I stick a fat gnocchi into my mouth and chew, but when I look up at her, I shove another two in to keep from bursting out in laughter.

“What did I order?” she asks, her face slightly pale.

“Liver and onions,” I say with my mouth full.

“Oh my God.”

I can’t help it now. I shove my napkin to my mouth and try to swallow so I don’t spit out my mouthful when I laugh.

“You jerk. It’s not funny.”

I shake my head, wipe my eyes because I’m laughing so hard, I’m crying. “No, it is funny. Your expression is hilarious, in fact.”

She gives me a glare, sets her fork down, puts her napkin on the table. When she makes to stand, I capture her hand.

“Come on, you have to admit, you are so damn stubborn. You should have let me order for you.”

She eyes my plate, picks up her fork and pokes a gnocchi. She shoves it into her mouth and closes her eyes. “Oh wow.”

“Told you so,” I say.

She opens her eyes and sticks her tongue out at me.

I take her plate and push mine in front of her. “Eat.”

She looks down at the gnocchi. “You don’t have to do that.” But she doesn’t offer to swap back.

“It’s fine. Eat.”

I keep hold of her hand for a minute and she meets my eyes, gives me a warm smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

I took Eric with me to the meeting where I sat in for my father. Salvatore was to have joined me, but he’s come down with some bug and I didn’t want Dominic there. I don’t care that I’m alone. I prefer it.

This is what it will be like when my father’s gone. Me in the back of the car. Me, alone. I’ll leave Natalie as far out of this as possible. Keep her safe.

The baby, in a way, I hope it’s a girl. I wonder if my father thought about that when mom was pregnant with me. If he wished for a daughter so as not to have to pass this legacy on to his own. I wonder if, to some extent, there’s a part of us that knows that the inheritance of the first-born male is a condemnation. A daughter can’t rule. Not in our family. Sexist, I know, but her husband would take control when the time came.

I’m thinking about this when Eric slows the car.

“Need to refuel,” he says. The kid who was supposed to make sure the car was ready before we left the city hadn’t show up. Probably hungover somewhere is my guess.

“It’s fine,” I say. I need to stretch my legs anyway. Meeting was in Manhattan and I’ve been sitting for too long.

I climb out of the car and dial Natalie. It’s late, but she said she’d wait up.

“Hey.” Her voice is soft.

I can hear her smiling. It makes me smile. “Hey. Were you sleeping?”

“Nope.”

“Dozing?”

“Maybe.”

“Did you eat dinner?”

“A grilled cheese sandwich,” she says. “Two, actually. I’m trying to get to that four-hundred pounds so we can see if you still think I’m beautiful.”

I chuckle.

“Are you almost home?” she asks, a note of worry creeping into her voice.

“About thirty minutes away. Go to sleep. I’ll wake you when I get home.”

“No, I’ll wait up,” she says through a yawn.

“I like waking you up,” I whisper. She knows what I mean.

“You’re dirty, Sergio Benedetti.”

“You like me dirty, Natalie Benedetti.”

She snorts, then her voice turns serious. “I miss you.”

“Me too. This was the longest three days of my life, but I’ll be home soon.” The pump clicks, and Eric takes the nozzle out. “I gotta go. I’ll see you soon.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart.”

We disconnect.

There’s no screeching of tires as two SUVs pull into the station, their windows tinted black. There’s no rush. They just slow as they turn into the lot. I’m tucking the phone back into my pocket when it happens. When I feel something isn’t right.

Silence is supposed to precede an ambush.

Silence always comes before devastation. It’s what I’ve always believed. How I’ve always thought it would happen.

But when I hear the first round fired, it’s like slow motion. I turn and watch Eric’s body fling backwards. A dark red spot appears on the front of his shirt. It begins to spread in a perfect circle feathering along the edges like a snowflake. That’s what I think of when I see it. A fucking perfect snowflake.

He’d left his coat in the car. He doesn’t have his weapon. Not that it would do any good. They’ve come prepared.

Fuck. We shouldn’t have been out here, in the open like this. Unprotected and vulnerable.

Instinct has me gripping my weapon and I take aim and shoot at the driver’s side window, even though I can’t see for shit because even the windshield is black. I hit the driver though. I know it when the SUV speeds up, crashes into a parked car just outside the twenty-four-hour market.

The first bullet hits me at the back of my arm. It’s my gun arm. But I know the sound of an automatic. There’s more to come.

It’s time.

My reckoning.

I know it. I’m sure of it like I’m sure of little else.

For as much as I think about death, for as aware as I am of its eternal presence, it’s cold, bony fingers, like claws, shadows trailing me, clinging to me, for as much as I am aware, when it comes, when it is inevitable, it’s still somehow unexpected.

I manage to turn. The cowards put a bullet in my back, below my shoulder blade. It burns. Sends me to my knees. I look at the passenger side window. It’s rolled part of the way down. I can see a flash of hair, a quick glimpse of blond or gray. But the bullets are still coming. Six, I think. Seven. I’m on my back and something warm is sliding up to my neck, down over it.

And all I can think about is her.

Her face.

Her eyes.

The baby inside her.

My baby whom I’ll never see.

My wife. I’ve had her for so short a time.

I won’t keep my promise to her tonight. This will be the first time I don’t keep a promise to her.

I think of the box on the family tree with my name on it. The date of birth. Who will fill in today’s date underneath my name? Who will color in the red cross. Will that task fall to her? No. It can’t. I can’t let it. It’s too heavy for her. Too dark.

There’s screeching now. And sirens. One SUV is flying out of the gas station. They shoot one more bullet but this one misses. Not that it matters. One less won’t make a difference. Not for me. Not anymore.

“Nat.”

It always pisses her off when I call her that and I almost smile at the memory of her face when I do.

Something gurgles up from my throat. I open my eyes for a moment to see a stranger’s face.

And then I’m watching. Just watching.

Nothing hurts. It did, the first bullet. It fucking burned. The second, too. And the one that ripped into my heart.

Now, nothing.

One leg is bent underneath me, the other stretched out. Blood pools all around me. The ambulance is here, and the sirens are fading. All noise is fading, I realize. Their screams. Their words. I hear nothing. And it’s not like I think it would be.

I want to see her again. One last time. I need to. I will myself to. To be home. To lie beside her. To touch her just once more. To brush my fingers across her cheek. To lay my hand on her belly. Hear her laugh. Feel her curl into me. Feel her breath on my cheek.

To tell her I’m sorry.

And maybe it’s my reprieve. Maybe some time in my life, I did one good thing, and this is my reward. Because I’m here with her. And she’s sleeping. She’s wearing my T-shirt. It’s so big on her. And she’s holding my pillow to her and her hair is fanned out all around her and she’s so beautiful.

I want to scream to her, but I can’t. I will the sound, but nothing comes. Nothing. I want to touch her, but I can’t feel her. I can’t fucking feel her.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I’m screaming, but there’s nothing. Nothing but silence. Utter silence.

She stirs. Blinks. I stop. And for a moment, I think she’s looking up at me. I think she sees me.

But then she closes her eyes again and rolls onto her side and she’s asleep. Peaceful still.

She doesn’t know yet. She doesn’t know yet that I’m gone. That I won’t be able to keep my promise. That I won’t wake her tonight or any night.

She doesn’t know yet that I died.