This Same Earth
Page 55
He glared at the priest. “I’ve explained to her—”
“I want to punch you right now, di Spada. I really do,” he whispered. “That’s quite childish of you.” Carwyn drove in silence for a few more minutes with a frown plastered to his face. “You don’t deserve her.”
“What?”
“You don’t! For heaven’s sake, is it that hard to say you’re sorry? I’ve not been married for a thousand years, and I know that much.”
“Can we talk about something else, please? This really isn’t any of your business.”
He snorted. “Fine. But for the record, you’re lucky she’s even talking to you. And don’t think I can’t smell her all over you or see that flush in your cheeks.”
“Drop it, Father. I’ll not be leaving her again,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was still sleeping. “I don’t even think I could at this point.”
Carwyn glanced between them, muttering something in Welsh, a language Giovanni had never wrapped his brain around sufficiently, before he looked back to the dark road ahead. “Let’s talk about London.”
“Fine. What have Terrance’s people found out?”
Carwyn shrugged. “It’s been vague, but there seem to be enough reports of your boy lingering to make Terry think he’s still around. It’s a large port and with easy access to the French coast, it makes it harder to get a handle on him.”
“Lorenzo had allies in La Havre at one point. Has that been investigated?”
“It has, but not thoroughly. You know how tricky the French can be. Also, they’re water clans in that area, so they’re tight lipped to any that aren’t their own.”
Giovanni racked his memory, trying to think of some connection he might use to get more information. “I could always ask Livia. One more favor to add to the growing list.”
Carwyn snorted. “Do you have time for that? Besides, you know how she is. She’ll not give you anything unless you come to Rome, and I doubt you want to take a side trip right now. Would you bring B? That would be interesting.”
Giovanni sighed. “They’ll have to meet eventually, and Beatrice handled the meeting with the Alvarezes in Los Angeles quite well.”
“Ernesto Alvarez is a friendly guppy compared to the sharks that swim in Livia’s sea. Don’t dump her into that until you have to.”
“I think you’re underestimating Beatrice, Carwyn. She’s a fast learner and I have a feeling that she’ll have a knack for the political side of our life.”
“Well, one of us should. I hate that stuff, and you piss people off too quickly. Don’t get me started on Tenzin.”
“Tenzin said something about Beatrice being my balance,” he murmured.
Carwyn frowned. “You’re not thinking—”
“I’m not thinking anything at this point. It’s not an issue yet. She’s handled herself extremely well so far. Ernesto was incredibly impressed with her. You could almost see him salivating at her potential.” He looked over his shoulder at the young woman who still slept peacefully. “We’ll see how she does in London. Meeting Terry and Gemma ought to be interesting.”
“Does she know about you and Gemma?”
He paused, thinking about Carwyn’s daughter, who was also a former lover. “I’ve told her we were involved, and that we are still friendly.”
He heard Carwyn snort. Then he heard him chuckle quietly before the Welshman laughed out loud.
“What?” Giovanni’s voice dripped in irritation.
“You make it sound like the two of you were study partners at university!”
“Beatrice knows that I love her.” He glanced at the sleeping woman in the backseat. “There was no need to go into detail.”
“Well, don’t let her imagine the worst. And she doesn’t need to hear about your sporadic relationship with my daughter from someone else, either, so make sure it’s from you.”
“Gemma and I were never serious.”
“I know that, but you two danced around each other for almost two hundred years, so don’t just dismiss it.”
“I can’t believe she’s marrying Terry. I would never have put them together.”
“Well, sometimes we find our match in the most unexpected places, don’t we?”
Giovanni turned to stare at Beatrice. Her head was slumped to the side of the car, and she was curled up with his coat covering her in the back seat. He had the urge to crawl next to her so she was lying against his side as she slept.
“I’ve never felt for any woman what I feel for her, Carwyn,” he said quietly. “It’s somewhat terrifying at times.”
He heard his friend start to speak a few times, but he kept pausing. Finally, he heard him mutter under his breath.
“You’re a lucky bastard, Giovanni Vecchio.”
Giovanni was reminded why he hated London as soon as they arrived, but he tried to enjoy it through Beatrice’s eyes. Carwyn had woken her as soon as they crossed into the city and started pointing out the sights. She smiled and bounced, enjoying the historic town as he tried to smother his own displeasure.
He hated the city. The streets were too crowded. The traffic too rushed. Too many people pressed against him if he tried to walk around, and there was too much noise. The air quality may have improved, but he remembered when coal smoke hung over the dreary town and soured the air. More than anything, Giovanni hated the cold damp that reminded him of the school in Crotone where Andros had held him against his will for so many years.
“I want to punch you right now, di Spada. I really do,” he whispered. “That’s quite childish of you.” Carwyn drove in silence for a few more minutes with a frown plastered to his face. “You don’t deserve her.”
“What?”
“You don’t! For heaven’s sake, is it that hard to say you’re sorry? I’ve not been married for a thousand years, and I know that much.”
“Can we talk about something else, please? This really isn’t any of your business.”
He snorted. “Fine. But for the record, you’re lucky she’s even talking to you. And don’t think I can’t smell her all over you or see that flush in your cheeks.”
“Drop it, Father. I’ll not be leaving her again,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was still sleeping. “I don’t even think I could at this point.”
Carwyn glanced between them, muttering something in Welsh, a language Giovanni had never wrapped his brain around sufficiently, before he looked back to the dark road ahead. “Let’s talk about London.”
“Fine. What have Terrance’s people found out?”
Carwyn shrugged. “It’s been vague, but there seem to be enough reports of your boy lingering to make Terry think he’s still around. It’s a large port and with easy access to the French coast, it makes it harder to get a handle on him.”
“Lorenzo had allies in La Havre at one point. Has that been investigated?”
“It has, but not thoroughly. You know how tricky the French can be. Also, they’re water clans in that area, so they’re tight lipped to any that aren’t their own.”
Giovanni racked his memory, trying to think of some connection he might use to get more information. “I could always ask Livia. One more favor to add to the growing list.”
Carwyn snorted. “Do you have time for that? Besides, you know how she is. She’ll not give you anything unless you come to Rome, and I doubt you want to take a side trip right now. Would you bring B? That would be interesting.”
Giovanni sighed. “They’ll have to meet eventually, and Beatrice handled the meeting with the Alvarezes in Los Angeles quite well.”
“Ernesto Alvarez is a friendly guppy compared to the sharks that swim in Livia’s sea. Don’t dump her into that until you have to.”
“I think you’re underestimating Beatrice, Carwyn. She’s a fast learner and I have a feeling that she’ll have a knack for the political side of our life.”
“Well, one of us should. I hate that stuff, and you piss people off too quickly. Don’t get me started on Tenzin.”
“Tenzin said something about Beatrice being my balance,” he murmured.
Carwyn frowned. “You’re not thinking—”
“I’m not thinking anything at this point. It’s not an issue yet. She’s handled herself extremely well so far. Ernesto was incredibly impressed with her. You could almost see him salivating at her potential.” He looked over his shoulder at the young woman who still slept peacefully. “We’ll see how she does in London. Meeting Terry and Gemma ought to be interesting.”
“Does she know about you and Gemma?”
He paused, thinking about Carwyn’s daughter, who was also a former lover. “I’ve told her we were involved, and that we are still friendly.”
He heard Carwyn snort. Then he heard him chuckle quietly before the Welshman laughed out loud.
“What?” Giovanni’s voice dripped in irritation.
“You make it sound like the two of you were study partners at university!”
“Beatrice knows that I love her.” He glanced at the sleeping woman in the backseat. “There was no need to go into detail.”
“Well, don’t let her imagine the worst. And she doesn’t need to hear about your sporadic relationship with my daughter from someone else, either, so make sure it’s from you.”
“Gemma and I were never serious.”
“I know that, but you two danced around each other for almost two hundred years, so don’t just dismiss it.”
“I can’t believe she’s marrying Terry. I would never have put them together.”
“Well, sometimes we find our match in the most unexpected places, don’t we?”
Giovanni turned to stare at Beatrice. Her head was slumped to the side of the car, and she was curled up with his coat covering her in the back seat. He had the urge to crawl next to her so she was lying against his side as she slept.
“I’ve never felt for any woman what I feel for her, Carwyn,” he said quietly. “It’s somewhat terrifying at times.”
He heard his friend start to speak a few times, but he kept pausing. Finally, he heard him mutter under his breath.
“You’re a lucky bastard, Giovanni Vecchio.”
Giovanni was reminded why he hated London as soon as they arrived, but he tried to enjoy it through Beatrice’s eyes. Carwyn had woken her as soon as they crossed into the city and started pointing out the sights. She smiled and bounced, enjoying the historic town as he tried to smother his own displeasure.
He hated the city. The streets were too crowded. The traffic too rushed. Too many people pressed against him if he tried to walk around, and there was too much noise. The air quality may have improved, but he remembered when coal smoke hung over the dreary town and soured the air. More than anything, Giovanni hated the cold damp that reminded him of the school in Crotone where Andros had held him against his will for so many years.
