I almost broke down and sobbed at the beginning, when the song started out with the man asking the woman to marry him. Then she sings her intentions for the relationship. This was followed by both singers contributing a voice to the life they choose to live together—they’ll always stay young if they have each other.
Our turn done, I was thankful that Brando had challenged me to do it and not let being imperfect stop me from having fun. If I were to step outside and get plowed over by a carriage, singing karaoke in a Swiss restaurant/bar wouldn’t be added to my list of regrets. I’d done it.
One of the things I loved most about Brando was hisI don’t give a fuckattitude. He did things or he didn’t—but because he wanted to or not. When he became an old man, he might only have a handful of regrets—most of them to do with me, probably.
I hoped Luca wouldn’t change that about him.
Romeo and Juliette stepped up after us. They sang an upbeat song, and Juliette had some sassy parts that she was able to make the most animated faces and gestures to—her acting was much better than her singing.
Violet and Mitch, Lou and Guido, who had arrived late, sat at our table, and besides Brando, we all sang along with Romeo and Juliette, laughing at times at the lyrics.
To make more room at our table, the women sat on their men’s laps, and all the women lifted glasses of water when Romeo initiated a toast for making it through the songs without laughing to death.
“Saluti!” a chorus of light tinkles echoed.
Dario commented right after. “The only thing worth laughing at is your hair,fratellino!”
On the surface it all seemed like good fun, but I didn’t like where the game was headed.
Dario and Romeo were not being as civil to each other as Brando and Rocco. Subtle, underhanded remarks were constantly going back and forth between them. The tension between them felt tight.
Feeling eyes on me, I turned a little. Rocco smiled at me, lifting his glass.
He and Brando were keeping out of the situation, both men feeling like they were caught between a rock and a hard place. Though as far as I was concerned, we should have all been sitting together. I still didn’t truly understand why Rosaria blamed me for Luca’s interest, when I never encouraged it in the first place.
Turning without acknowledging Rocco, in case Rosaria took offense to that too, I joined in the conversation at our table. As the rounds of spirts and food were passed around, the talk ranged from skiing the Matterhorn to memories from other trips we’d taken around the world.
Two strong hands came to my shoulders, squeezing. The scent of spicy cologne wafted in the air. Rocco.
His green eyes were the color of moss in the dim bar, and his dark hair made them pop. “Bella,” he said softly. “You turned away from me.”
I itched to move my shoulders, so he had to move his hands, but this man was a Fausti. The more resistance, the more determined.
“Well…” My voice trailed, not able to come up with anything else.
Brando gave his brother’s hands a hard stare. Rocco grinned before he lifted them and took a seat next to Romeo and Juliette.
The voices at his table became louder when Vincenzo and Sylvie took seats. Donato and Chiara were right behind them, coming to sit at our table.
Guido and Donato seemed to jump from side to side, not sure where to land in this awkward situation we all found ourselves in.
“What are we?” Violet piped up, downing a shot of whiskey. She shook her head after it had gone down. “Fifteen? What’s the issue? I mean, I understand the separation from Charlotte. She stinks like blue, orbleu, cheese. But there’s no reason for the rest of us to play musical tables.”
She knew damn well what the issue was. She had initiated the conversation two nights ago, while she sat at our table painting my nails burgundy. This was Violet’s way of clearing the air. No one wanted to touch it, least of all me. Despite the fact that our group was cut in two, we were all having a decent time.
Seeing as her husband had come to the other side, Rosaria decided to come sit on his lap. He seemed surprised. Rarely did they show affection out in public. Not long after, the two tables were brought together so we could all sit together. To my immense delight, my sister and her husband left.
“Bye,Blue,” Violet muttered, wiggling her fingers.
Those that were closest to her started laughing.
Conversation was pleasant enough after that, but at one point Rosaria made an “ugh” noise as she stared at me and Brando.
“You two touch too much!” she said, her voice rising. “Even when there is animosity between the two of you, you still touch. It is almost unhealthy! If one is not touching the other, the world might stop.”
“It might,” Brando said, surprising everyone. He usually kept quiet. “Better to touch too much than not at all. It’s like saying ‘I love you’ only during sex, ah? One starts to question the sincerity of it if it only takes place in private.” He lifted his glass, and it stilled at his lips. “God gave us hands for a reason. To use. I prefer to keep a hand on what’s mine.”
His words were true. Brando and I gravitated toward one another. Welikedto touch each other, even when things were not perfect. Home and magnet. Out in public, behind closed doors, we were always touching.
