But I did anyway, wishing for what no normal person wished ever, and then I blew out the candle.
“I won’t ask what you wished for so it’ll come true.” She winked and waved for the waiter to bring the check.
“It’s been taken care of, ma’am.” He smiled and wished me a happy birthday again.
Nicky frowned at him. “What do you mean? Who took care of it?”
“It’s our thing at Leo’s. Ladies who have birthdays on Halloween dine for free.”
“Why was it never mentioned before?”
“We don’t advertise it so it won’t be abused. Excuse me, ma’am. Have a nice evening.” He hurried away.
“Wow. That was just wow. You lucky dog.” She linked arms with me, giggling. “Aren’t you a little bit more psyched that we came here tonight? Now we don’t have to live on noodles and mac and cheese for the rest of the year. Is that what you wished for? A free meal?” She giggled again.
I chuckled humorlessly, checking the nanny cam feed on my phone and seeing everything was just as I’d left it. “No. I didn’t wish for that.” I slipped the phone back in my pocket as we exited the restaurant, kids and teenagers in Halloween costumes, jack-o’-lanterns and thunder greeting us. Gosh, I hated thunderstorms.
“Well, I bet whatever you wished for wasn’t better than a free meal at Leo’s. Did you know this place is owned by Sebastiano Bellomo himself? He named it after his son. It’s really weird that a man like him has only one child. They say his wife died a few years ago in a shooting.”
“That’s so sad,” I mumbled, waiting for our late Uber. Please arrive before it rains.
She droned on about how she believed the Bellomos were really the Mafia and that shooting was a retaliation of sorts. She also believed that even if the wife was dead, a handsome guy like Sebastiano Bellomo must have had many bastards.
I didn’t argue about her source of information. She’d never seen the guy to know whether he was handsome or not or to be so sure he was a gangster. I no longer cared whether our benefactors were the bloody Mafia or angels sent from heaven, though. Who was I to judge when I’d wished for a stalker to come stalk me back and was upset he didn’t?
All I wanted was to go home and cry myself to sleep.
My dark stranger was gone forever.
Chapter 13
Lina
The next morning, I woke up with the decision to never think about him again. Of course, I betrayed myself an hour later when I opened my locker, hoping that he might have left my present here instead of at home.
When I found nothing, I swore at how stupid I was and went to class.
He was really gone, and it was for the best. I was finally safe—the safest I’d been in seventeen years—and free to live my life however I wanted. I’d focus on my lessons, rehearsals and maybe replace my unhealthy fantasies with more normal ones about that cute boy I kept seeing around. At the mall, at the bakery, at the Laundromat a few blocks from our building, and here at Bellomo.
He never spoke to me, but he always stared, giving me a smirk.
At first, with everything that had been going on, I thought he was just another creep. Then, because of how desperate I’d become, I thought it could be him, my creep. Except that boy was about Nicky’s age—he couldn’t have killed my father when he was only fourteen—and he didn’t have a beard.
Putting all paranoia and craziness aside, I convinced myself he must have been just a boy who lived close by to be around so often. When I saw him at Bellomo, I guessed he must have had a brother or a sister here. Or a girlfriend. A boyfriend?
That would be such a waste. He was so beautiful with dark, thick, hair that curled at the end in the sexiest way ever. Dark blue eyes. A nose and cheekbones that belonged on a Roman coin. Strong jawline and lips that danced with mischief every time he gave me that smirk.
For months after my birthday, our continuous, accidental, silent encounters sedated my sadness and took my mind off him, but I never forgot. He could forget all he wanted, but I would never forget.
Sometimes, despite the promise I’d made myself, I still played for him, even though he wasn’t listening. Today was one of those days. When I held my violin to play at Bellomo’s junior recital, I didn’t see the students or their parents or the teachers or Nicky. I closed my eyes and pretended he was sitting in the front row, wearing a dashing tux as if we were at the opera, not at a school theatre, his intense eyes I’d barely seen before were on me, only me. I imagined they were ocean blue, drowning, dangerous and ever so inviting like a deadly siren, and they’d twinkle with how much he loved my music. How much he loved…
I shook my head, my fingers turning firmer on the strings, angrier. I didn’t open my eyes, but in my head, I, too, was holding his gaze, telling him everything I’d been stifling for months with my violin. Every note spilled a forbidden secret. Every stroke was an unspoken emotion. Every slur was me and him and the dark.
My heart squeezed with the final note, my eyes, too. As if they were afraid to open so he wouldn’t disappear. As if they were saying, “One more moment, please.”
My breath snagged in my chest, and something wet dropped on the back of my hand. My own tears.
Great. I was crying, in front of all these people who were actually watching me. I forced my eyes open, and a round of applause along with a standing ovation received me. The people were real, and they loved my performance, and I was crying, terribly missing a horrible man that, to most people, only existed in my head.
I took my bow and ran to hide backstage. In the pitch black darkness, I rested my back against a wall, banging a fist. Tears wouldn’t let me be. I hadn’t cried in months, not since my birthday, and now they flooded out of my eyes.
“I hate you,” I whispered. “Why don’t you fucking leave me alone?”
“I’m sorry.”
A gasp ripped from my chest, my heart pounding frantically. I was so startled I couldn’t focus to recognize the voice. Was it his? Was he here?
My head whipped right and left, my entire body tingling with anticipation. “Who’s there?”
“A big fan.” The voice oddly carried the same depth of his, only more cheerful, playful.
Footsteps approached, and suddenly I was blinded by a burst of light. “What the hell?”
“I’m so sorry again. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
That was definitely not him. He would never apologize like this. He did whatever he wanted, took whatever he wanted without permission or care.
The light moved away from my face and became a spot on the floor. Ridiculously expensive, black, Italian shoes and a pair matching of slacks appeared. As I looked up, I saw flowers, and then a familiar smirk hit me.
The cute boy’s.
Only now he wasn’t cute at all. He looked so creepy with the flashlight from his phone focused on his face, like he’d just come out of a cheesy horror movie.
“You sure? Looks like it’s exactly what you’re trying to do here,” I said nonchalantly, disappointment dulling my senses.
He laughed. I didn’t mean to say what I said as a joke, though. “Can we please move somewhere more…” He laughed again, nervous now.