I press a hand to my lips. “Are you okay, Eli?”
He nods but I can see he’s shaking, making the liquor in the glass rock back and forth. I wait for the others to tease him, but their faces are strangely tense. Almost remote.
“Sit, Pryntsesa,” Adriano says, gesturing to my regular place. I do as I’m told, tucking my white silk dress underneath me so it won’t wrinkle. Everyone’s gaze goes to Eli, so I look at him too. As the seconds tick by I wonder if it would be rude to bring up my parmigiana and whether anyone is going to serve the food I spent the rest of the afternoon making.
“January…” Eli clears his throat then seems to lose his nerve, staring into his scotch. I fight back a nervous giggle, trying to keep my face calmly sympathetic, like a real mafioso wife.
“January—” Eli repeats, then coughs into his fist.
“Fuck’s sake,” Doc mutters and Bobby punches him in the leg.
“Should I, um…come back later?” I ask, looking around.
“No.” Eli shoves back his chair and gets to his feet. “January, the four of us have discussed what our plans should be going forward regarding you, your desire to open a restaurant, your desire for freedom, and your concerns around the freedom of our future children.”
“Oh. That sounds like…a lot of information.”
“We’ve been in here for fucking hours,” Doc says into his vodka.
“We’ve made our decision,” Eli says loudly, drowning Doc out as usual. “And if you agree to our terms, I think we can lay these issues to rest.”
I wait for him to tell me what the terms are, but he just stares at me, unblinkingly, his cigarette steadily turning to ash between his fingers.
“…What is it?” I ask, still trying not to laugh. “I, um, feel like I’ve walked into a play or something.”
Eli juts his jaw. “Well, before we get into our agreement, I have to tell you something.”
My stomach falls. What could have possibly gone wrong now? I can’t imagine anything worse than Corinne and Mr. Parker attending the Bianchi wedding, but maybe some other murderous criminal will be there too. Some supervillain so mean I couldn’t even imagine him yet.
Eli plunges the last of his cigarette into an empty espresso cup and shoves a hand through his hair making it stand up like a glossy cornfield. “I… Elliot Morelli… I think… That is to say…”
I stare at him. He looks like he’s about to choke. Doc’s shoved his fist into his mouth and even Bobby looks like he’s stopping himself from laughing by a thread.
“January Whitehall.” Eli points a finger at me like a TV lawyer.
“Um, yes…?”
“I… I-I-I…” His whole face twists, making him look unattractive for the first time ever and my heart stops, because I’m sure he’s about to tell me he can’t be with me. That he’s going back to Italy to marry someone else, some normal woman who doesn’t want to own a restaurant and have four boyfriends. But then he spits out the last of his sentence. “…I care about you deeply.”
“Oh,” I press my hands to my mouth, trying not to hide my smile. “Um, thank you.”
Eli collapses back into his seat as though deflated.
“Christ,” Bobby groans. “It’s three words. Get it together, Morelli.”
“Yeah, get it together, Morelli,” Doc agrees.
“Shut your common mouths,” Eli mutters. “It’s not easy to bare your soul.”
“It’s okay,” I say brightly. “I know you love me. You’ve loved me for ages. You just can’t say it.”
Eli gives me an irritable look and Doc laughs.
“Fuck you, Valente,” Eli snaps. “You can’t say it either.”
Doc’s smile fades. “I can do it. It’s just… I dunno…”
“Boys,” I say gently. “Is this what this meeting is about? You all telling me that you love me?”
