Since I couldn’t get him to bed, I grabbed one of his blankets and spread it over him, removing his glasses and kissing his forehead. These binges always made me feel more like the parent than the child.Still, there was somethingso beautifully heartbreaking about the way he still loved and missed my mom that I could never stay angry at him for too long. I wanted a love like that someday… hopefully without the tragedy, though.
With Papa taken care of, I locked up, grabbed the cordless phone, and headed to my bedroom. I’d just had the most incredible night of my life and knew Adona would want all the juicy details.
***
Dominico had set my world on fire, then left me to smolder and die out. Days passed without even a phone call from him. Hurt and angry about his abrupt absence from my life, I broke down and asked Papa what he knew about the Mariani family.
“Powerful family,” Papa replied. “Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious,” I lied.
Papa eyed me. It was only a few days past the anniversary of Mom’s death, and he seemed mostly sober, but still had alcohol on his breath and seeping out his pores.
“This have anything to do with that boy who kept sniffin’ around here and takin’ you to work? The one with the expensive car and nice suits?”
I didn’t want to lie, so I shrugged noncommittally.
“Haven’t seen him around in a while,” Papa noted.
“He was… helping out at the restaurant, but he’s not at Antonio’s anymore.”
Papa scratched his chin. “That’s too bad. A boy connected to the Mariani family could do a lot of good for you. You’d be well taken care of, luce dei miei occhi.”
Papa had worked his entire life and still couldn’t pay for the medical procedures that might have kept Mom alive, so I could understand why he wanted me to find a man who could take care of me. Blinded by all his own perceived shortcomings, he’d missed the most beautiful truth about himself. Mom made sure I knew how special he was, though. I was sixteen and kneeling beside her bed when she gripped my hand and referred to herself as lucky.
“Lucky? How can you say that?” I asked. She was in so much pain she could barely sit up, and the doctor said it wouldn’t be long until she went to sleep and never woke again.
“Because we were happy.”
We had been happy, but now we were struggling. We couldn’t afford Mom’s treatments and Papa had started drinking. The happiness from my childhood felt like it was unraveling.
“So many people go through life without feeling what your Papa and I feel for each other. I would trade a thousand years of not knowing him for the eighteen happy years we shared in a heartbeat. My hope is that someday you will know a love as strong as ours.”
I frowned at the memory, knowing I wanted the same thing for myself. While we were in the Escape Room, I’d wondered if Dominico could be that guy for me… the one who made me so happy I felt lucky no matter what life threw at us. I didn’t care about his family’s money, I’d just liked being with him. But apparently, he didn’t feel the same since the jerk couldn’t even be bothered to call me back.
Resolved to put him out of my mind once and for all, I informed Papa, “I can take care of myself.”
“Of course you can,” he replied, without much confidence behind his words.
Frustrated, I let it drop, focusing instead on something Papa had said. He’d called the Marianis powerful. Why? “What do you mean by powerful family?” I asked, wondering if he’d validate my concerns. “Are they mafia?”
As an Italian, I’d been accused of being part of the mafia on more than one occasion. The stereotype angered me, but it was also somewhat true since my mom’s side of the family had mob ties on the east coast. Truth be told, most Italians did have some sort of mob connection in their family.
Papa shrugged. “That’s none of my business, so I wouldn’t ask. As far as I know, they’re successful businessmen who influence local politics.”
Sounded like mobsters to me, and I didn’t need that sort of complication in my life. I let the subject drop and headed to the kitchen where I could keep my hands busy and distract my mind from missing Dominico.
Over the next couple of weeks, I all but gave up on Dominico, pouring my time and energy into my job. With the dinner over, Collin had time to train me to do the position I’d been hired for. I cracked open my mom’s old recipe binder and showed him what I could really do. I tweaked the restaurant’s antipasto recipe, landed my roasted squash and beef carpaccio salad on the permanent menu, and added a few temporary dishes to the rotating daily specials. Positive feedback from customers earned me my first raise before my probation was even up.
Brandon and I worked a lot of the same shifts. His house was only a few blocks from mine, so, despite my insistence that the bus was a perfectly fine mode of transportation, he started giving me lifts to and from work. We went out for drinks twice, and the second time, he tried to snag a goodnight kiss. I dodged, pretending not to know what he’d been about to do, and wrapped him in a quick hug before fleeing into the house. Brandon was great and all, but I felt nothing for him.
When he picked me up for work the next day, it was like the whole almost-kiss hadn’t happened. Thankful things weren’t awkward between us, I headed for his car.
“Why do you always do that?” Brandon asked, opening his door.
“Do what?” I climbed into the passenger’s seat and buckled up.
“Look up and down the street like you’re looking for someone,” he replied. “You always do it before you get in.”
