Page 121 of Mafia And Maid
“Rosa, wait—”
But my feet carry me into the hall before Camillo can even finish his sentence.
Nausea swims through me as I try to keep the tears from falling. Hands braced on my thighs, I bend forward, trying to get as much air into my lungs as I can. It’s futile, like sucking through a broken straw.
Why am I even crying? He didn’t say he hated it. But it’s clear I’ve overstepped some mark. I just wanted to do something for his birthday. To provide Marco with a small thank you for everything he’s done.
But I can’t even do that properly. And now I’m responsible for messing things up between Camillo and Marco.Me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Camillo’s bellow in the kitchen rouses me from my stupor. My breathing turns frantic, small gasps peppering the air.
A muffled reply hits my ears, unintelligible over my gasping breaths. My arms wrap around my body tightly as I try to stop the sob that clogs my throat.
“Rosa?” I hear the echo of my name. I don’t know if one or several moments have passed, still frozen to the spot and unable to move.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, my words soft, barely above a whisper.
“Hey.” Camillo’s face fills my blurry vision, and concern battles rage as he scans my face. “There’s nothing you need to be sorry about.”
I will the tears back, clearing my throat. “I didn’t mean to upset him. Or for any of that to happen.”
“Marco was just…shocked. He’s not used to someone else making the birthday cakes or anything. He’s seen it as his job since our parents died—were killed. He’s always felt guilty about our mom no longer being around. Marco and Alessio practically brought up me and our youngest two siblings after our parents were killed.” His words come out through clenched teeth.
“I didn’t know.”
“I know. He won’t admit it, but he handled it all wrong. But it’s okay, I promise.”
I want to believe him, but I can’t. I nod, not trusting my voice to stay even.
He leads me back to the table. I follow, keeping my eyes down. I can’t look the others in the eye. I’ve overstepped my position here, and I’m the reason Camillo and his brother nearly came to blows. In the months I’ve been here, I’ve never seen them like this with each other.
The atmosphere is charged, and Marco’s seat at the table is now empty. I don’t dare ask where he’s gone so that I can apologize to him—not that it’d do any good to fix all the damage I’ve done.
***
The morning goes by in a haze, my thoughts tumbling over one another as I absentmindedly clean and do laundry.
As I mop the ground floor, I freeze outside the hallway, catching the brief conversation inside Marco’s office.
“You need to apologize.”
“Since when do you get to tell me what to do, Camillo?”
“You’re being an asshole. More than usual.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.”
I shouldn’t be listening to this; it’s a private conversation.
“Rosa was just trying to be nice.”
The mop nearly drops from my hand at the sound of my name. I really shouldn’t be listening, but my feet won’t move.
Someone sighs, and I can almost picture Marco and Camillo both dragging their hands down their faces, mirroring each other. There are so many small things like this that always remind me that they’re siblings.
“I just…” Marco starts to speak, and I hear another longer sigh. “It’s hard to forget what happened.”