“Where are Liana and Gui, sweetheart?” my mom asks.
“They’re at Balistreri’s working on the final dresses for Liana’s collection.”
“Your wife is a designer?” Ignazio asks.
“She is. The best in America.”
“My youngest is a model here in Sicily. You’ll meet her at the ball tomorrow.”
“How many children do you have?”
“Two, one boy and one girl. My son won’t be able to make it, though.”
“And what about your wife?”
The corner of his eyes, where wrinkles formed from the smile he’s kept on his face this entire time, spasm. It was so discreet, but I caught it.
“Unfortunately, she probably won’t be able to attend either. She’s been feeling a bit under the weather.”
“That’s too bad. Maybe we’ll be able to meet her before we head back to the states.”
Ignazio continues to smile but doesn’t say a word. My parents are staring off in different directions, and just when I’m about to say something to break the awkward fucking silence, Ignazio says, “One can hope.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” my mom says, pushing herself up from the couch. “I need to make a quick phone call.” She gives me a tight smile, then excuses herself from the room.
My dad clears his throat, then sits up taller on the couch and says, “I need to grab something from our room. I’ll be back in just a moment.”
I furrow my brow as he hurries out of the room. What the hell is going on with them? They’ve been acting strange ever since I showed up.
Ignazio pulls my attention back to him when he says, “So, do you all have masks for the ball? If not, I’m sure I have some options.”
“Actually, we do. Thank you though.”
Knowing my parents mentioned this ball before they left, I came prepared and brought a mask for Gui, and the masks Liana and I wore the night we met. I’ve kept them all these years for no reason other than it was what my future wife wore the first time we met. The fact we get to wear them again tomorrow night is just a bonus.
It’s quiet between Ignazio and me, neither of us speaking while my parents are gone. There’s something off about him, but I can’t pinpoint it. Maybe it’s the fact that his smile hasn’t left his face since I got here. It’s too… fake, but why would he need to put a show on for me?
Pushing myself up to a stand, I say, “Do you mind if I use your bathroom.”
“Of course not.” He points down the hall in the direction my parents went. “Head down the hall, take a right, and it’s the first door on the left.”
I give him a tight smile and nod, then head in the direction he said. I’m about to walk into the bathroom when I hear my parents’ hushed voices. I almost ignore it, but then my mom says something that gets my attention. “How do you expect me to keep this secret from him?”
Her tone is frantic, as if whatever secret she’s keeping from whomever she’s talking about is straining her.
Should I respect their privacy? Absolutely. But ever since I got here, there’s been a weird fucking energy in the air, and if my parents are hiding something from me, I need to know what it is.
I creep down a few doors until I’m standing right outside of theirs, making sure to keep to the side of the doorframe where they’re unable to see me.
“Look at the situation we’ve gotten ourselves in now, Andreas. How are we supposed to?—”
“Shhh!” my dad hisses out.
There’s a pause, then my mom continues in a softer tone, but I lean in closer so I can still hear her. “He wasn’t supposed to be here. How are we supposed to continue keeping this from him now?”
There’s an aching feeling in my stomach. What the fuck could she possibly be talking about?
“Had I known he was going to come to Italy, I would’ve changed our plans, made something up, I don’t know. But now that he’s here, we have to get it together. You need to make sure you keep quiet about this though.”
