“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Conti.” I somehow smile, even though all I want to do is run and hide.
He studies me for a moment, not saying a word. I’m about to hyperventilate, wishing I could excuse myself and slink away to anywhere else but here. “I can see why my son is so enamored of you,” he tells me, finally cracking what I think is a smile.
I glance nervously to Leo for a moment, looking for a rescue. “Thank you, sir.” I keep my words formal, always remembering my upbringing and the respect for my elders that was practically beaten into me as a child.
“Mario, please.” He dips his chin and takes another step closer.
I resist the urge to back up and flee, knowing it’ll do nothing to help smooth the waters and gain favor with Leo’s father. “Mario,” I say softly.
Mario grabs my hand and lifts it to his mouth. “You’ve grown into a beautiful woman, Daphne.” He kisses the top of my hand so softly, I barely feel his lips on my skin.
Sometimes I forget the Contis lived in our neighborhood. I can’t remember a time when there was peace in my life instead of the constant bullshit my father has brought on my family over the last two decades.
Leo pulls me backward as Mario releases my hand. “Would you like some coffee, Pop?” Leo asks as he moves us toward the living room like he’s trying to put distance between his father and me.
“I’ll take a glass of wine,” Mario answers as he follows behind us to the living room.
“Thanks for coming today,” I say out of nervousness as I place a hand on my stomach. “It means a lot to us.”
Mario takes a seat on the couch across from me, studying my face with his steely eyes. “We’re going to be family,” Leo’s father says a few moments later.
I nod and tug at the hem of my skirt, pulling it down over my knees. “We are.” I laugh for some reason, wishing I could have a glass of wine too. Awkward moments are always easier to swallow with a drink.
Mario takes the glass of wine from Leo, looking every bit a businessman instead of a cold-hearted mobster. There’s a not-so-comfortable silence as we sit on the couch, Leo and I on one side of the room, and his father on the other. In situations like this, I always talk, trying to fill the void. Silence isn’t something I’m used to in my family. Three brothers and a very outspoken mom make quiet almost an impossibility.
“Leo told me you already have grandchildren,” I say, trying to find middle ground for us to discuss.
“Ah, yes.” He lifts his wineglass to his lips and pauses. “Alicia’s always been a problem child.”
Alicia is one of Leo’s sisters, and from everything I’ve heard about her, she is, in fact, a problem. If I didn’t know the backstory, I would’ve been taken aback by Mario’s comment about his daughter. But knowing what I know, and her propensity to bed-hop, I know his father can’t exactly be proud of her antics.
“Pop,” Leo warns. “Be nice.”
“I love my grandchildren. I couldn’t cherish their little faces any more than I already do, but my daughter…” He shakes his head and sighs. “She’s always taken a different path and not one I would’ve chosen for her.”
Mario is trying to be civil. From the way Leo described him, his father is putting his best foot forward as we sit in the living room, waiting for my father. I replace Alicia’s name in his sentence and know he’s not exactly thrilled about the path Leo took either. I’m sure when he pictured his son having his own children, it wasn’t with the daughter of his mortal enemy.
Mario leans forward and places his wineglass on the coffee table which separates us. “Can I speak freely?” he asks as he rests his elbows on his legs near his knees, looking at us over the frame of his black glasses.
“Of course,” I say, not letting Leo answer first. “I’m never one to bullshit, Mario.”
“When I heard about you and my son, I wasn’t exactly happy.” Mario rubs his hands together in front of himself and glances down at the hardwood floor for a second. “But the way my son looks at you is much the same way I looked at his mother before she agreed to be my wife. Nothing and no one could’ve said anything to change my feelings for her.”
I don’t say anything as I peer over at Leo, who is, in fact, staring at me. I’m not sure there’s anything I could actually say in response to Mario’s statement, so I decide to keep my mouth shut and just listen for once.
“My approval is not needed, but I give it willingly,” he says. “I only want the best for my son’s first child.”
There’s a little misogyny in his words. I hear the sexism plain as day. There’s something about the males in Italian families having their own children that always earns favor above everyone else.
“I will do my best to work things out with your father. For the sake of my unborn grandchild and the future of our families.”
This is progress.
Leo’s phone dings, and he glances down. “Your father is here,” he tells me, covering my hand with his and squeezing.
Mario stands as Leo does, but I beat them to the elevator doors. I want my face to be the first one my father sees as he steps foot in Leo’s penthouse.
“Papa,” I say as soon as I see my father. He’s pulled out all the stops, looking every bit as dapper as Mr. Conti in a three-piece suit and newly polished shoes.
