“Make sure you’re dressed when you leave the room next time,” he said. “There’s a house full of men.”
I nodded.
He kissed me on the forehead, going for the door.
“You are leaving me.” My voice trembled out as if it were cold, although the rest of me was warmed through.
“I’m going for a run.”
“This is leaving me,” I whispered.
“Don’t you know by now, Annie.” His touch was a whisper along my skin. “I run in circles.” He lifted his left hand, the moon glinting off his wedding band. “I’ll always race back to you. I know no other way. No other fucking way.”
With that, he left me alone in the room.
Chapter 53
Sistine
The conversation at the table was heated. We had all been summoned to the dining room, where a family meeting was taking place.
That night, in his will, Gramps had requested a party in his honor at the local bar in town, The Road House, as a celebration of his life. However, I was not sure if all sitting at the table were going to attend.
Mariano’s aunt, who Stella and I referred to as “the evil aunt” in secret, had called the meeting. She demanded to know who was getting what, as far as Gramp’s belongings. Charlotte’s husband, Travis Becker, sat next to her, their children and spouses if applicable next to them, as the evil aunt went on a rant as to why this was necessary.
“I don’t want to have to war it out with the leech if I don’t have to,” Charlotte snapped at Pnina. “Daddy would have wanted this.”
“If Daddy would have wanted this,” Scarlett piped up, “it would have been in his will. I don’t want anything. You can have it all. But as of right now, all of Daddy’s belongings go toMati.”
Mati—meaningmotherin Slovenian. Mariano had told me that, although his grandmother had Italian roots on herfather’s side, her mother, Maja Resnik, his famous ballerina great-grandmother, was Slovenian. The family could speak the language. Mariano rarely did, but he could if he needed to. His mamma, he had told me, still spoke to them in the language.
The conversation sometimes took that turn at the table, and although the grandchildren understood it, it did not seem as if their spouses did—or the spouses of Scarlett and Charlotte. Perhaps to a certain extent, but not fully. I was lost at times. Lost and ready to stand from the table and walk away. Charlotte reminded me so much of Capri, I almost lost my cool a few times and flipped the table over.
“Insufferable,” I muttered to myself.
Charlotte’s narrowed eyes came to mine. “You have something to say, say it.”
“Enough!” Pnina rubbed her temples. “What do you want, Charlotte?”
“What’s mine!”
“Meaning…everything,” Scarlett said.
“You have always been the bane of this family’s existence!”
My hand had been in Mariano’s the entire time, and at this, I squeezed. If his hand would have been a lemon, I would have enough juice to make limoncello.
“Look who’s talking.” Scarlett laughed, but there was no humor in it. It was drier than the humid air. Scarlett lifted a hand toward her sister, her gold bangle bands clinking as she did. “Daddy isn’t even gone an entire week, and you’re sniffing around his things. I’m surprised you haven’t cleared this entire place out. Even the rugs—so you can sleep on them like thebitchyou are.”
Charlotte stood from her seat abruptly. Scarlett did as well. It seemed like the two women might lunge over the table at each other. Brando had been right behind Scarlett, his eyes onCharlotte’s husband, who looked interested and bored at the same time.
Interested when the valuables, property, and money were brought up. Bored at this point in the proceedings. He met my eyes and smiled at me.
“The usual,” he said, shrugging.
My husband gave him a cold, detached look—one that could freeze the air. His uncle by marriage turned away from me. However, I got the impression he was a sleaze ball, as Atta called some men.
Pnina stood from the table. She looked at Scarlett. “What do you want?”
