From my place behind the kitchen island, I let them hash it out.
Vittoria looked down at her bare feet and answered through a small laugh. “I was in a hurry. I guess I left them behind.”
And Ella nodded curtly. “Right. I just thought by the way you were dressed that you could afford any.”
Oof.
Vittoria glanced back at me with wide, blinking eyes and Ella’s barely-there smirk told me she’d achieved exactly what she meant to.
My daughter was not going to make this process fun, but until things got extreme, I decided to sit back and refrain from intervening. After all, I wasn’t the only one with trust issues. It would take more than her dad bringing home his young wife for Ella to trust again.
She was justifiably cautious.
I had a sneaking suspicion that Ella would have been difficult regardless of the unfortunate events of that day, all those months ago. She was loyal to a fault, and Ella loved her mother more than words could describe. The level faithfulness meant that Ella wouldn’t dare give in so quickly because she felt it was disrespectful to her mom.
That evening, I called the family and when they arrived to see Vittoria standing nervously to greet them, the range of reactions was wide.
Giada looked at her with a gasp, then she looked back at me, then back at Vittoria. And then, she flew forward to wrap her arms around Tori. From my wife’s surprised laugh and returning, clutching hug, it was clear they were as happy as the other.
Meanwhile, dad came in and greeted his grandkids with kisses and hugs and money slipped into their pockets when he thought I wasn’t looking. And when he drew Ella into a hug, he looked down at her, patted her cheek and asked, “How are you, sweetheart? You eaten?”
Ella replied with a sweet smile. “I have eaten.” That sweet smile turned caustic when she turned it on me. “An entire bowl of bullshit.” She walked away in a way that was so much like her mother, my heart ached.
Pops stared at her retreating form and said, “That kid… she’s got a mouth on her. Wonder where she gets it?” But after a moment, he narrowed his eyes on me and asked carefully, “What did you do?”
Vittoria spoke up from the open doorway. “I don’t think it’s him as much as it’s me.” My father spun to look at her. His brows rose slowly and she smiled in that honey sweet way that always had my breath catching. “Hi, papa Nunzio.”
My father clicked his tongue, shook his head and put his hands to his hips. “I should’a known.”
So much Italian drama packed into one small man.
He didn’t go to her. Instead, he held out his hands and it was a kick to the gut when she rushed over to be held by a father again, even if it wasn’t her own. My dad held her hands, squeezing tight, as he didn’t hesitate to tell her, “He’s been a goddamn bear for months. Four days ago, he smiles and I wonder what changed.” He threw me an intentional look that called me a sneaky asshole. “Now I know.”
I would have called him out if he hadn’t been right, and when he embraced Vittoria in a fatherly manner, kissing her forehead and welcoming her home, an enormous weight lifted off of my shoulders. For a moment, it hovered, but the lightness didn’t last long. It transferred to the pit of my stomach when I saw Vittoria’s eyes close and her lips tremble.
Eventually, we were going to have to talk. About Vincenza and the trouble she was causing at the high table. About the quiet price on her head. About what happened to her father. All of it.
This was our fresh start and we were not going to build our relationship on a foundation that rocked. We needed to be solid. I needed her to be solid for me. And as I looked at her now, sitting down with my father, holding his hand as though she thought if she let go, she would wake from her desperate dream, I was convinced that, for me, she could be that woman.
Vittoria was resilient.
I got to witness that resilience firsthand when my brother turned up two hours late, stepped into my house without knocking and waltzed in like he owned the fucking place. Daniele made it to the kitchen, then walked his surly ass to the refrigerator, opened the door, stuck his head inside and asked a blasé, “So, what’s the big news?”
He tugged at his tie and casually undid the top button of his shirt before he popped the top on a bottle of beer. The cap tinkled when it landed on the floor. He lifted the cold bottle to his lips, tipped it back and drank from it for a whole ten seconds. “You got anything to eat, man? I’m starved.”
This guy. “Do you think about anything other than food?”
The bottle hung from his fingertips and he glanced back with a mischievous grin. “Food. Pussy. Drugs. In that order.”
Jesus.
I wondered about my brother sometimes. Must be nice not to have to worry about the basic shit the rest of us had to worry about. I always took it easy on him. So, maybe it was my fault that Daniele was the way he was. “Sit down. Let’s talk.”
Already, he knew something was up. He looked closely at me and, for once, read the room. His grin fell and his demeanor changed, became more rigid. “You talk. I’ll stand.”
Fine. “It’s about Vittoria.”
His grin returned, darker than I’d ever seen it and my brother jumped at the opportunity to say, “You finally ready to let go?” His eyes bled black. “Because I can do it for you. Let me do it for you. Say the word and I’ll make the drive over right now. I’ll wait ‘til she’s in bed. She’ll go to sleep and,boom, never wake up. Easy.” For a moment, his sanity came into question, especially when he said, “Or I can make her feel it. I’ll drag her out of bed by her hair, tie her up and make her scream. She’ll go scared, crying and begging.” He was far too eager when he leant in across the counter. “What’s your preference?”