Cutting down a Christmas tree is an experience. I now know why so many people opt for an artificial one. Finding the perfect one that everyone can agree on isn’t an easy task. There’s a lot of cursing and a little yelling until we find just the right one. When we find it, Bruno cuts it down while the rest of us stand by and shiver.

He and I drive home alone with the tree on the roof of the Range Rover while his parents and siblings follow close behind.

“Bruno,” I mumble because the entire time I watched him working the saw against the tree trunk I couldn’t get his nickname out of my head.

He glances over. “Yeah?”

I turn down the volume of the radio, muffling the sound of the Christmas carols. “I have to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me.”

“Okay.” I can hear the uncertainty in his voice.

I turn in my seat, adjusting the seat belt so I can watch him as I talk and hopefully he answers. “Who are you?”

“Babe, what kind of question is that?”

I swallow down the fear and continue. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?” His jaw tightens before his eyes return to the road in front of us.

“You. I mean, supposedly you’re this crazy-ass guy, but then you come home and are the sweetest man. You love your family—hell, you cut down a Christmas tree.”

“I’m the same man I always am, Cal.”

I wrinkle my nose. “It doesn’t add up, Doodlebug.”

“Cal,” he warns and gives me a sideways glance.

“You’re too nice of a guy to hurt anyone. I need you to tell me who you are.”

“Why? It shouldn’t matter. You know who I am.”

I shake my head and twist my hands in my lap nervously. “I don’t. I don’t think I can continue to see you if you’re not honest with me, Bruno.” I lay down the gauntlet. If he likes me, loves me even, he has to tell me the truth. I’ll use any means, including the threat of never seeing him again to get the answers.

He doesn’t speak at first, just drives. I watch as his chest heaves up and down and his eyes move around as if weighing his options. “If I tell you, you’re going to be in danger.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know the people in my life, Callie. It’s better if you don’t know the whole truth.”

“I think having you in my life at all is dangerous. But I want to know who the real man is who I’m falling in love with.”

“You’re falling in love with me?” His voice has softened and his face relaxes.

“I am. I have, I mean.” I sigh and collect my thoughts. “I’m afraid to love you. I can’t love someone who hurts people for a living. I don’t know who you really are, and that scares the crap out of me. I want to love you with my entire heart, to give myself to you completely, but I can’t as long as I don’t know who the real Rocco Bruno is. And I don’t know who he is. I mean, I know who he is when he’s at home with me, taking care of me when I’m sick and trying to get through my chemo, but I don’t know who the man is who goes outside my apartment and makes people walk a little faster and keep their heads down when he’s passing.” I hit babble level and keep on going. “I want to say he’s not that man. Not the one who kills people. Not ‘The Butcher.’ He can’t be. It doesn’t make sense. Doodlebug can’t hurt people. He’s too good.”

“I’m right here, you know,” he interrupts me.

“For fuck’s sake, who are you?” I demand, dragging my fingers down my face in aggravation, and I start to hyperventilate.

“Calm down, Cal. You’re getting all worked up. Breathe, babe.”

“How can you tell me to breathe at a time like this? You may be wanted by the cops. I may be aiding and abetting a felon, and I don’t even know it.” I suck in more air and keep on going. “You broke in to my apartment. I mean, that was my first clue that something wasn’t right. Normal people don’t do that shit. You did, though. You fucked me and failed to mention that fact to me for a long time, Bruno, a long fucking time.” I suck in a little more air. “Every day, I fall a little more in love with you, and I’m scared to death that one day the cops are going to bust down my door and haul your ass off to jail. My face is going to be splashed on the front page of every newspaper as the woman who loved the most notorious criminal in New York City. I don’t want that. Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?” I gasp for air this time, feeling slightly light-headed from my rant.

“Okay,” he whispers and grabs my hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “Calm down and breathe a little and I’ll tell you everything.”

“You will?” I ask between breaths.

“I will,” he promises with a nervous look on his face. “When we get back to my parents’, I’ll explain everything.”

“You’re lying. You’re just placating me.”

“I’m not, babe. I promise to tell you everything when I can hold you as I talk. I’m not doing this shit in the car.”

I gnaw on my lip and think. Is he fooling with me? I don’t like the idea of him lying to me again. “If you don’t, I’m going to ask your parents or inform them of your status and new nickname. You’re not Doodlebug anymore, Bruno.”

“They know all about me, Callie.” His voice is remorseful and sad, which doesn’t bode well for my hopes that everything about him has been a lie.

“Oh,” I blurt out. “Well, then.”

“You can ask them who I am if you prefer to hear it from somebody else.”

“No,” I admit and frown, staring down at my hands, knowing I probably sounded like a crazy lunatic moments ago. “I want to hear it from you.”

“We’ll be home in ten, and you’ll know more than you ever wanted to. Promise.”

“’Okay,” I whisper, dropping the conversation and turning the radio back up to get lost in my thoughts. I replay his comments in my mind over and over again. His words were ominous and didn’t console me at all.

What if he is a killer? Would I still love him? It is impossible to think I can, but then there is the other side. The man who has taken care of me when I had no one else.

Would hearing it from his own lips change my feelings? I don’t know for sure, and that scares the shit out of me.

---

Thirty long minutes later, Bruno has carried the tree into the house and placed it in the stand. When he stands and wipes his hands on his jeans, removing the sap, he motions toward me with his chin and looks at the stairway. I take it as a cue. It’s now or never. Soon, I’ll know who the man I’ve fallen in love with really is.

The thought terrifies me.

I nod and hold my hand out to him. I capture glimpses of him as we walk up the stairway, silent in our ascent until we reach the door. “Are you sure you need to know?” he asks me with one hand on the doorknob.

“I have to know.” I grimace, but I put my hand over his and turn the knob.

As I take a step inside, he pulls me backward, spinning me around so our chests collide. “I love you, Callie. I don’t want anything I say to you to change that.”

I can see the sorrow in his eyes and the truth behind his words. I feel it in his voice when he says my name. “I love you too, Bruno, but I need to know if I love the man I think I do,” I tell him, standing on my tiptoes and giving him a light kiss.

His arms wrap around me, pulling me tighter against him and kissing me a little deeper. “This can wait,” I tell him as I push against him, not willing to forget about what I need to hear. “First, you need to tell me everything.”

He nods, lifting me by my ass and carrying me into the bedroom while I straddle him. He kicks the door closed before moving us toward the bed. When he sits, he doesn’t release me. With me propped on his lap, he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and swallows. “I don’t even know where to start.” His eyes open, the darkness deeper than I’ve ever seen in them before.

My hands snake around his neck and stroke the skin just above his collar. “At the beginning.”

“No. I want to tell you who I am first and then how it came to be this way.”

I nod and my pulse begins to race. My heart is slamming against my ribs so hard I wonder if he can hear it. His eyes dip to my mouth before returning to my eyes.

“I’m not a butcher, Cal, baby.”

“Have you killed anyone?” I blurt out and brace myself to hear the truth.

“I have, but they’ve all been bad men.”

I hang my head, watching the pulse in his neck throb. “Some would say you’re a bad man, Bruno.”

“The only people who know what I’m about to tell you are my family. You can never repeat a word of what I’m about to tell you to anyone else. Not even Rebecca can know. Understand?”

I nod and look him directly in the eyes. “I promise.”

He cups my face in his hands. “I work for the CIA and have for years. I’m a member of the Anti-Terrorism Task Force.”

I don’t speak. I can’t speak. I’m confused and at a loss for words.

“I’m deep undercover, doing business with many criminals in the city to weed out the terrorists and help track the flow of money out of the country. I have to stay in my role and never waver. I let people believe I’m ‘The Butcher,’ or whatever else they want to nickname me, because word travels. When someone needs something, they come to me. They have confidence in my abilities just from the murmurs on the street. Nod if you understand what I’m saying.”

I nod and try to process everything he’s telling me, but I’m not sure if I believe it.

“I was in the military. Hard-core Semper Fi, and before I finished my tour of duty, I was approached by the State Department to become a CIA recruit and help fight the war on terrorism. This was after 9/11, and being a New Yorker, I felt honored to help bring down the bastards that destroyed our city and tried to strike fear in the heart of Americans. I joined as soon as my feet hit US soil, and I never looked back.”

“Okay,” I whisper and my mind races.

“I was placed in New York City because of my unique knowledge of the city, along with my experience with the underworld from my youth. Many people knew I was a soldier, but they thought I came unhinged after the war and didn’t care to play by anyone’s rules but my own. They never stopped to think that I could be doing anything other than reverting to my old ways from my youth. I fit in, became ingrained in the world so few know and have helped the government track and detain more terrorists than you’d ever want to know lurked in the city.”

“Okay,” I mumble. Clearly, I can’t think of anything because my mind is reeling from his admission.

“It’s been a good ten years, but I’m tired. The weight of my sister’s illness makes me weary at times, but then when all hell breaks loose around the world, I get sucked back in and find new drive to keep me moving forward. I feel it’s my duty to keep our country safe. To keep people like you safe.” His eyes search mine as he strokes my cheek. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“So you’re not a bad guy?” I wince.

“No, Cal. I’m the one keeping you safe at night, along with every other citizen of our great nation.”

“But you…” My voice trails off.

“Have I hurt people? Yes. But every single one of them wanted to kill Americans. They wanted to ruin our way of life. I never hurt anyone unless there was no other way. You have to believe me, Callie. I’m the man who has lain next to you every night, the one who has held you through your tears and carried you to your bed. I’m the man who has been by your side through your battle and helped you carry on even when you wanted to give up.”

“You have,” I admit.

“I’ll never do anything to harm you. I’ve loved you from afar for too long. My heart ached every time you walked into the club. Watching you flirt with guys made my skin crawl, but I thought you were doing it to hurt me. I couldn’t tell you who I was even after I realized you didn’t remember. Even when I watched over you at night to make sure you were okay, I wanted to tell you, but I knew it wouldn’t be right. Knowing my secret is a special burden and a hard secret to bear.”

“But I can,” I tell him and I mean every word.

“You can’t tell Becca.”

“I know.” It will be hard, but I can do it. I don’t have to worry about my family because I have no one. Even though I can’t tell Bec who he is, her feelings and worry for me with him have changed already. They formed a bond of their own, and no longer does she believe the rumors we’d heard about him either.

“Do you hate me?” he asks, the lines on his forehead deeper than I’ve ever seen.

I shake my head between his hands. “No,” I answer truthfully.

It makes complete sense. My mind may never wrap around the fact that he is not a killer. He played the role, and played it damn well, to the point I’d give the man an Oscar. But it doesn’t fit the man who took care of me and worried over me for so long.

“Are you allowed to tell me this?” I ask, wondering if he’ll lose his job for exposing his secret.

“Yeah.” He takes a deep, ragged breath and blinks. “I had it cleared a few weeks ago.”

“Wait.” I touch his chest and swallow down the small bit of anger that I feel gripping me. “So you could’ve told me over a week ago, but you didn’t?”

“I wanted to wait until the moment was right.” His thumbs brush against my lip.

“If I hadn’t pushed you today, would you have told me before we went home?”

His eyes dip to my lips and lingered. “When you pushed me that night and I disappeared, I knew I had to tell you, but I had to clear it with my superiors. I went to DC and had to get approval. It was a bitch to do, but I made it very clear it was a necessity. They did a background check on you and eventually gave me the okay. So I planned to tell you, Cal, but I just needed the time to be right. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” I grimace because I was so pissed at him when he walked out the door that night. He tried to talk to me and I shut him out. “You promise that everything you told me is true?” It sounded right, all of his words, but a part of me still can’t reconcile the fact he isn’t the man I thought he was for so many years. Bruno isn’t a murderer or a criminal. In my heart, I know it’s true—the man who has been by my side during my chemo isn’t a man who could hurt an innocent person, especially for profit.

“I’ve been in love with you for far too long to risk losing you. I wouldn’t lie about the man that I am. Everything you’ve heard about me is a persona, a façade other people have created. You know the man I am.”

I smile sweetly and know exactly what he means. It’s why I can’t wrap my brain around the two very different people: the one I heard he was and the one I know he is. Everything he says makes sense.

“Kids!” his mom yells from downstairs.

Bruno groans and places his forehead against mine. “I’m really not in the mood to go downstairs.”

I wrap my hands around his waist and close my eyes. “Bruno.”

“Yeah?” he asks before kissing my forehead.

I take a deep breath, and as soon as his eyes meet mine, I say, “I love you too.”

His small smile grows wide with my words. The hands around my face slide to the back of my head and bring my lips to his. The love we have for each other pours out and seals the moment perfectly. My eyes fill with tears as he kisses me. Not from sadness, but from my heart being so full of happiness and love that it becomes too much to bear without crying.

I can imagine what people are thinking. “Wow, Cal, that was quick.” But in actuality, time isn’t infinite to me. The last two months have taught me that time is precious and unyielding. I have love for him. No one has taken care of me the way he has; no one has showed me such compassion without asking for anything in return.

To deny my feelings and the way I crave him near me would be a disservice to myself and a slap in the face to him. He’s laid his heart on the line, along with his life, by confiding his true self to me. Who am I not to do the same?

When he pulls away, his face is relaxed and the invisible veil he hides behind seems to vanish.

“So is that apartment above the club your real home?” I ask, praying he says no. It wasn’t horrible, but in no way do I plan to stay over there too often.

We stopped there once, and I was surprised at how clean and tidy everything actually was. I don’t know if I’d watched too many movies, but I’d thought it would be…different.

“No, baby. That’s for work. I have a place near here.”

“Can I see it?” I ask, squirming with excitement.

“Yeah, Cal. I’ll take you there today. Jesus,” he mumbles and blows out a hard breath. “I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.”

“I would’ve loved you either way,” I tell him, placing my hand against his cheek and smiling.

“Liar,” he mutters and closes his eyes.

“Your heart, Bruno. It’s so big and full of love. How could I not?”

“Kids!”

I snicker when he rolls his eyes. “It’s nice,” I tell him. The fact that his parents think of us as kids even in our thirties is endearing.

“Are you happy?” His eyes search mine as he wipes away the few stray tears.

“So much so that I can’t even begin to explain,” I admit and stroke his cheek with my fingers, dragging them across his stubble.

He smiles. “Me too. More than I’ve been in a long, long time.”

There’s a knock on the door. “Mom said you two better stop screwing like monkeys and get your asses downstairs,” Lucca says through the door, loud enough so the entire house can hear.

“We’d better go,” I tell him when I can see he’s about ready to blow. “Don’t kill Lucca either.”

“All bets are off when it comes to that little shit.” He laughs and helps me climb off his lap.

I slap him on the shoulder and giggle. “He’s adorable.”

“Yeah.” He scrubs a hand down his face and sighs. “So are baby bears until they grow up and maul your face off.”

When Bruno opens the bedroom door, Lucca takes off down the stairs like a bat out of hell. As we walk downstairs, hand in hand, I can’t wipe the smile off my face. The thought of dying and the cancer that may still be inside me has rarely entered my mind since we arrived. Too much love and happiness exist in this house to let the sorrow seep inside.