Page 44 of Run

“It’s good to see you, Giovanna,” she said.

“You too, Daniela,” I replied.

I dropped my arms then and stepped away. I felt awkward, but looking at her, having her look at me filled me with such guilt and shame that I didn’t know what to do with it.

“I assume you’re behind this?” I said.

She frowned ever so slightly, but then quickly covered her features.

In that moment, I hated myself for putting that wall between us, but the wrongness of the moment, being confronted with what I had done and the pain I had caused my sister was something I couldn’t deal with.

“If by ‘this,’ you mean your return here, no,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m not.”

She frowned again, looked toward the door, and I knew exactly the sentiment that had her looking in that direction.

“So this is his doing?” I said.

“Yes. I had nothing to do with it, Gia. Sergei took it upon himself to find you,” she said. That unreadable expression didn’t leave her face, but I saw the tightness around her jaw, a sure sign of her displeasure, though at me or her new husband, I couldn’t say for sure.

“I see,” I said, scoffing. “You went from a father who controls you to a husband who does.”

I’d been blinded by the memories, the shock and joy at seeing my sister again, but I wasn’t blinded to the reality of this situation. Her house looked warm, comfortable, but ours had been too. And though Daniela looked happy to see me, that her husband had found me and brought me back here without consulting her told me all I needed to know. She might be as happy as she looked, but she was a puppet with someone new pulling the strings.

Daniela didn’t bother to hide the scorn in her expression. “If you’re going to insult my husband, or me, I’d just as soon you leave,” she said.

Even though her face was angry, her voice came out smooth and classy, and I again felt my own spark of inadequacy. Somewhere, our mother was applauding, proud of Daniela, frustrated with me.

Same as always.

“Some things never change I see,” I said. The words were driven by anger, mostly at myself. However it had happened, I was here, and I needed to appreciate my time with my sister while I had it.

“Some things never do, apparently,” she said, frowning even deeper.

“Yeah, I’m always the bitch,” I said.

That got a reluctant smile from her, and some of the tension of the moment broke.

“Come sit with me, Gia,” she said, leading me over to a comfy-looking couch.

“What’s the story?” I asked, my gaze centered on her stomach.

“In a little over three months, you’ll be an aunt,” she said.

The look on her face, one of contentment and excitement stirred another flash of envy.

I’d run a thousand different scenarios, but this one, one where Daniela was content, happy, settling into family life with a man like my father hadn’t been one of them. I’d imagined the family life. However, Daniela’s apparent happiness was something I’d never contemplated.

“So tell me about him,” I said, my mind snagging on that last thought. How was it possible that she could be so happy with someone like him? I’d spent less than a minute with the man, but I knew his type. Tough, a hothead, something he tried, and failed, to hide behind nice clothes. Not at all what Daniela deserved.

“Sergei?” she asked.

I nodded.

“He’s…” She trailed off, her eyes taking on a dreamy quality that left me envious, confused. “He’s wonderful. Strong, kind, funny, wonderful,” she said.

“And he’s…” I trailed off like she had, but for an entirely different reason. The thought of her husband put a dreamy look on Daniela’s face, but thinking of him filled me with deep unease. I stayed quiet, not wanting to give voice to what I was thinking. But I couldn’t leave it unsaid.

I locked eyes with Daniela, searching her expression, my heart thudding as I prepared to speak. Finally, I pushed the words out. “He’s not like Santo.”