“Mamma!” he said playfully. He had been scarfing down food, almost choking on it, but after I assaulted him, I gave him extra. I realized that he had probably been without a good meal for some time, seeing as the woman (Violet) who usually cooked for him had been in Italy.
Pleasant warmth came to my cheeks when the background music seemed louder, sounds ofmmmand pleasant humming melting in. The crowd had become quiet, enjoying their meal.
Brando. His plate was full, so was mine, but he wasn’t eating. He was waiting for me.
I signed to him,We’ll talk later.
He signed back,Later.Let’s eat.Now.He would give me until later to have the conversation about Marzio.
“Marcelo!” Bonfilia seemed to appear out of the Tuscan clouds. She was head to toe in white again, her golden hair and jewelry breaking up the monotony, though her skin competed with her pure gold watch for what could shimmer the brightest.
Rosaria groaned.
Brando looked behind him, looking for this Marcelo. She went to take my seat, but he nodded toward me and said something in Italian.
Maggie Beautiful and I made it to the table just as Bonfilia told him that she was his real mother.
“No,” he said, eyeing her as though she might crack. “I’m fairly certain I would know if you were.”
“Bonfilia,” I said, “this is Brando. This is his mother, Maggie Beautiful.”
“A pleasure, I am sure,” she said, turning up her nose at Maggie Beautiful.
“Tell me, Scarlett.” He didn’t have to say another word. He wanted an explanation for this woman’s presence at our home.
“Your father’s wi—
Bonfilia interrupted. “I am your mother. You were kept from me!”
“What is she talking about?” Brando looked at Maggie Beautiful.
Maggie Beautiful had never told him what Luca had wanted, how he had attempted to coerce her into giving him up so that Bonfilia could raise him as her own—as a soldier. Though something told me he already knew all of this. Brando still held some secrets in the darkness of his solitary castle.
I glanced over at the three brothers. I didn’t know how much they knew, and I didn’t want to alter their worlds if unnecessary, not at this juncture. All three were heads bent to their plates, probably immune to her theatrics.
“The thing is.” Maggie Beautiful took my hand for support and squeezed. “Your father wanted me to give you up. He tried to persuade me to, but I refused. Then he killed Stone’s wife, so I was able to keep you. If he had been successful, she would have raised you.” Maggie Beautiful’s eyes flicked to his three brothers before finding her son again.
“She stole you!” Bonfilia said huffily.
“How can I steal my own son?” Maggie Beautiful said, the fiery creature in her gaining momentum. “You are ridiculous, and I will slap you!” She raised her hand. I took it down.
“What do you say to this, Marcelo?” Bonfilia raised her arms wildly.
“I’m not interested in what Marcelo has to say,” Brando said slowly, like he was talking to a two-year-old. He took a long drink of cold lemon water. “But I, Brando Fausti, have a word or two. You have disrespected my mother, the food that my wife has prepared for me, for our family, and my good time. You are not welcome at our home.”
Bonfilia turned to Marzio, requesting backup. He waved her away like a fly hovering over his plate. Her eyes moved back and forth between Marzio and Brando, and then to Ettore. She left without another word.
Maggie Beautiful stared at Brando for a moment before she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and took her place next to Aberto again.
I slid in next to him, my leg touching his. He sat as still as water for a moment before his arm came around my waist, pulling me even closer.
“Do you feel it too?” I asked. “The space?”
“What could have been, if I had been taken from Maggie Beautiful.”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I do.”
