I inhale the warm scent of jasmine and lilies and wrap the fluffy towel around me. As I make my way towards the foyer to head up to my room, I hear the front door slam with anger.
“Where is the piece of shit I call a son-in-law?” Grandpa Carrington roars through the house with my grandmother nipping at his heels.
“This is the thanks I get when I allow you to marry my daughter, to continuemyfamily name, and to inheritmyfamily legacy. You better hope this is all a sick fucking joke.”
“I grew up with loving, doting parents, grandparents that spoiled you rotten when they came to visit. This wasn’t them. This was pure rage-filled hatred, and I was terrified.”
He stays quiet but picks up a fry and bites the end, contemplating what to say to me. He puts the rest of the fry down and grabs my hand. A silent acknowledgment that he is here for me, so I continue.
Still wrapped in the fluffy towel, I cling to it like it's armor meant to protect me. I quietly open the door to the closet under the stairs and slip inside. With the door slightly ajar, I can see into the living room where my seething grandparents stand. I hold my breath, afraid I might give away my hiding place.
Rushing out of the kitchen, wiping her wet hands on her apron, my mother whisper-shouts, “Mother! Father! You cannot come into my house screaming like this. Please, this is not how to handle this.” My mother's tear-streaked face pleads with my grandparents, fearful for what will happen next.
I hear the irate, heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, the only indication that my father has heard what happened. The click of his shoes on the polished wood floor never comes, which can only mean he was still standing at the bottom of the carpeted stairs.
“Reginald. You walk into my house like you own the place, you scream your profanities at me as if I owe you a goddamn thing.” My father slurs in a thick Italian accent, he works so hard to hide.
Fuck…he’s been drinking, and this will not be good.
“Now, Reginald, must I remind you that whether you ‘allowed’ me to marry your daughter or not, she was going to be my wife.” His feet finally hit the wooden floor, and he takes two strides towards the sitting room.
“The only thing you allowed me to do was exile myself from the Ferretti family ties and take your last name so I could make your Luxury Caskets into a legacy.”
What the hell is even going on? Ferretti family ties. What does that mean?
“Carrington Caskets was subpar before we moved to Arizona. I made the name into a staple every wealthy person needs. I made elegance in every goodbye!” He’s now screaming at my grandfather as my mother is sobbing.
As if on reflex, my grandfather reaches out and punches my father across the face.
There is the distinct sound of the lowball glass hitting the floor as my grandfather yells. “You ungrateful bastard. I gave you everything that I built with my two hands, and you think you are the reason for its legacy. Do not speak to me like we are equals because we are not. You are nothing but the bastard son of some mafioso who married above his station. Know your place and stay in it.”
I am standing in my hiding spot, shocked, staring at the events unfolding before me. But nothing—not the yelling, not the slap, not even the shattered glass on the floor—could prepare me for the contents of the envelope my grandfather threw onto the table.
Inside it, a birth certificate. A child was born just six months before my parents’ wedding day. My mother’s name is not listed next to my father’s.
“That was the moment everything changed.” I look up at Donovan with tears in my eyes, and I can see the shock in his face.
He sits in silence after I lay the overwhelming memory before him.
“Stell. Did you say the mafia? A secret affair, baby? Do you know how much, if any, of this is true?” He can’t get the questions out of his mouth fast enough.
“Your dad was one of the coolest dudes I knew. I can’t imagine him cheating on your mom.”
I shrug my shoulders and push a fry along the hardened cheese sauce, “I’m not too sure. Two weeks later, my grandfather died of a heart attack, and with him, my parents buried the secrets.”
I can see the wheels turning in his head as the timeline of events falls into place. “We broke up around the time the fight happened.” It wasn’t a question. He stated it very matter-of-factly.
I can feel shame spreading across my face, and tears collect in the corner of my eyes, threatening at any moment to break the dam.
“Two days,” I whisper. “Two days after my grandparents stormed out of the house, everything in my life fell apart. I walked into school that morning, and Elaine was standing in the hallway with her evil smile from ear to ear. Flyers were everywhere. That night, talking to you about it, it felt like you brushed it off, and it wasn’t a big deal. It felt like you didn’t care. The devastation, humiliation, and anger overtook me.”
Donovan reaches his hand across the table and wraps his fingers around mine.
His calloused hands are a stark difference from mine.
“Stella, I am so–”
“Please, Donovan. Just let me get this all out. Please. Say nothing until I am done.” I'm practically begging.
