Maybe I could bring Bonnie?
Only because she might need a bit of space, of course.
I hand Mia one of Mamma Picollo’s cannoli and she dramatically clutches her chest telling me how much she loves me, which makes me laugh. For the first time in a long time, I feel lighter. That’s the wonder of Mamma Picollo.
As we pull up to the villa, I spot Bonnie meandering through the flowers. I know I should leave her alone and go about my business, but my legs have other ideas. Before I know it, I’m only a few feet away, holding up the food bag.
“Hi. Do you want food?”
She looks at me, startled. Her eyes bounce from the bag to my face. “Um…hi. And wow, what is that smell?”
I grin. “That is the smell of the best food in Italy.” I don’t even mind saying it with Chiara close by because she would agree. “I’ve got far too much, and you should experience Mamma Picollo’s before you leave.”
Nope, my body doesn’t like that thought at all!
I turn and start walking back to the villa. Bonnie hesitates for a second but then follows. Placing the bag on the counter, I set about collecting plates and bowls. Bonnie will have a veritable feast.
“This looks…incredible,” she says, leaning over and inhaling deeply.
“Taste it. Then your mind willreallybe blown,” I chuckle. Even though I’m stuffed to the brim, I could eat a little more. We fall silent as we eat. No, not silent, because Bonnie is making appreciative noises that should be made illegal. Does she know she’s doing it?
She’s so captivating I’ve stopped eating, my fork halfway to my mouth. Only when her eyes flash open and she catches me staring, do I finally look away, trying not to choke on my food.
We go a few more minutes without speaking and they’re the loudest minutes of my life. My skin feels itchy and my hair is too tight. Reaching up, I yank it out of the bun. No one should endure that torture every day. I don’t have to, but I learned early how the more severe look earned me more respect. Ridiculous, I know, but that’s the patriarchy for you.
When I look up, Bonnie is staring at me still. The air feels charged and I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or not. Is she planning to lay into me about something?
“I don’t get you,” she finally says. “Who are you?”
I feel my eyebrows draw together because I’m not sure what she means, but I don’t have time to formulate a question.
“One minute you’re this terrifying ice queen—the mobster—but on the flip side, you’re this,” she says, waving her hand at me. “Laughing. Laid back. Caring. You’re like night and day and I don’t understand.”
Laying my fork down, I dab my mouth with a napkin. There is no easy way to answer her. It’s far too long and complicated, but something inside urges me to tell her everything about who I am. If it means she’ll stop seeing me as the Devil incarnate, it’s worth it, right?
19
Bonnie
Iwasright.Allegraturning up out of the blue with a bag full of scrumptious food has made the night perfect—also, confounding. I just can’t get a handle on her and it’s messing with my head.
My dad’s warning is rattling around my noggin, telling me to eat my food and go to bed. She’s a criminal no matter how I cut it. Nothing she does or says changes that, and yet, I’ve not followed anyone’s advice and eaten and gone to bed. Instead, I’ve opened my trap and blurted out my innermost thoughts.
“What do you want to know?” she says.
Um, everything? But I don’t want to come across as too eager.
I set my own cutlery down. “Lorenzo raised you, I guess?”
“He did. My parents were killed by a rival family and he took me in.”
I knew it was something along those lines.
“And so, what? He trained you to be…this?” I don’t know how to describe her. “Evil mobster” doesn’t sound right, but I know she’s far from innocent.
She taps the end of a finger to her chin. “Okay, Bonnie, I’ll tell you my sad little story and you can decide if I’m worth your time.”
Oh, that was ice cold.
