Chapter 50 Again Security
Rose
Something's wrong. My eyes meet my cousin's wife through the tense silence at the dinner table. It's been like this for the last two days. And I keep waiting for them to tell us what it is, but all three of them are silent.
It has something to do with meeting that Enzo Russo guy, but my brother is incredibly quiet about it. He hasn't even told Mom, and she's really pissed. The atmosphere is starting to affect even the little one.
Mom's fork clattered against her plate as she rose to her feet.
"I can't take this anymore," she mutters, reaching for the child sitting in the chair next to her. "If you insist on continuing to act like someone is dead or about to die, I won't be spending any time with you."
With this brief announcement, she leaves the dining room. Roman also drops his fork and slumps back in his seat.
"You should tell her, man," Tony says behind me.
"Yeah, I'll do that," he whispers, running his hand through his hair. What will I tell her? About Elena’s pregnancy, hell?
"Um, sorry," I say, raising my hand. "I wish I knew that too."
"Not you," Roman says grimly.
My eyebrows rise. "Hey, don't bite my head off."
He groans. "You're right. I'm so sorry, Sister."
"Whatever Don Russo said, it must have really hurt you," I muse. "So, guys, are you guys going to war again? Are we safe?"
"We're safe," Michael assures me. "And we'll tell you later, Rose. We're just trying to sort out some issues."
I really don't like the worried look on Roman's face. He's always so confident, at the top of his game. I want to push them and force them to tell me what's wrong, but this isn't a battle I can win.
"By the way, I'm placing you under guard again," my brother declares. "You are not leaving this house without at least one guard."
"What? Absolutely not," I immediately protest. "I don't need a bodyguard."
"Trust us, Rose," Tony says softly.
My hands clench into fists. "Is this about Russo? You just said you weren't going to war."
"No," Roman replies.
"Then why the hell are you suddenly so concerned about my safety?" I asked.
"Because you're my sister," Roman said.
"Try again." Michael sighs. "Rose, this is for your own good. We don't think you're in any danger. We're just taking precautions."
"If I'm not in any danger, why should you take precautions?" No one answers. I huff in frustration before getting to my feet and leaving the room. Sometimes I truly hate the family I was born into. My feet move toward my art studio.
I inhale the clean, earthy scent of the room, letting it soothe my senses. It's comforting. My studio is a mess, as expected. The floor in the part of the room where my wheel, a few tools, clay, and kiln are located is covered with a tarp. I walk over and sit down, looking at the piece I've been working on.
Usually, when I try to sculpt something, I have an image in my head that I'm trying to bring to life. But these days, I feel I felt empty. Maybe "empty" isn't the right word. Bored, more like. I also tried painting, and while it's not my strong suit, it's helped me in the past. However, every time I picked up a brush, I'd get a mental block.
I don't create art for money. It's not work, more of a hobby. I sell my work occasionally, but I don't do it very often, which means there's no pressure to create something new. I can take things slowly. No pressure means no heartache. I usually can't create art unless I'm in a bad emotional state. Eventually, I'll find my groove again.
For now, I'm content with the sense of calm that being in this room gives me.
I sip the milkshake in front of me and sigh quietly with satisfaction. Food truly is one of life's most underrated pleasures. I can be having a terrible day, and the only thing that always lifts my spirits is good food. Or sweets. I'm known to have a sweet tooth. Chocolate and candy are my weaknesses. I'm grateful every day for my metabolism, which helps me stay in shape.
Kiara, sitting in front of me, doesn't seem to share my feelings about the bowl of goodies in front of her. She's absentmindedly twirling it. Only when I reach for hers to get her attention does she suddenly look up.
"Hey, milkshake thief. Yours is right here," she says.
I laugh. "Welcome. What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I guess." Then she leans closer and lowers her voice. "Is it just me, or are you feeling lonely too?"
"Yes, exactly," I say carefully. "My last relationship didn't end well." I'm trying to make as much time for myself as possible. I don't really want another one.
Kiara crosses her arms over her chest, and her brown eyes soften.
"You're right. But I just feel... lonely, I guess. It doesn't help that I've been living alone." She said.
"If it gets too hard, you could always move into our house. There's plenty of room," I suggest.
"And live with Michael? No, thank you." She said.
I'm intrigued by the fact that this is her biggest problem. "Why not? Aren't you all still best friends?"
"Not like before," Kiara declares. "We met, and after that, he asked for some space. In typical Michael fashion, he backed away a few steps. Intimacy is hard for him. He doesn't get along well with people. And I try so hard to be patient, but I can't wait for him forever.
My heart aches for her. And for my cousin. I don't blame him for who he turned out to be. He's so strong, and I admire how far he's come.
"Just don't give up on him, okay?" I say quietly.
She smiles and gives me a slight nod. We return to our milkshakes, but suddenly Kiara tilts her head to the side, her black hair falling in front of her face.
"Rose... don't look right now, but a guy is standing behind you who keeps staring at our table."
I do the exact opposite of what she said and immediately turn around, eliciting a groan from Kiara. When my eyes find a pair of familiar blue ones, I nearly choke.
"Oh, shit," I say, turning around. "What the hell?"