“Tell me what they are, and I’ll tell you if they’re true.”
“Now where’s the fun in that?” He chuckles to himself. “I heard you scored a pretty Italian princess from theRossifamily.”
“You heard right.”
“How’d you manage to do that?”
I scowl and look out the window. The less I say the better. “She fucked up a business arrangement. I retaliated.”
He chuckles softly to himself. “Retaliated by scoring a Rossi woman. Only you, you fuckin’ genius asshole.” He sounds friendly, familiar, like he’s pleased with me, but I know him well enough to hear the underlying jealousy.
“I want the wedding tomorrow.”
“Beach house?”
“Of course.”
I roll my eyes and look over at Marialena.
I wonder if she’s a virgin.
I’ll know soon enough.
“Who do I invite?”
I stretch my shoulders and flex my neck. I need a good lifting session, soon, and a good night’s sleep.
Who to invite?
I’m making an announcement of huge proportions. We’re joining two families together on the East Coast. My family hasn’t made a strategic move like this in decades.
It’s time.
“Invite everyone.”
She tenses but doesn’t speak, doesn’t move.
“On it. Father Esperanza?”
“Yes.”
“He’ll be there. Food?”
I give him a litany of family favorites, then cover the mouthpiece and ask Marialena, “You have any food or cake preferences?” I can at least throw her a bone.
She gives me a sardonic smirk, her lips pursed and eyebrows raised as if to say, “really?”
“I’ll take that as a no,” I say in a low voice. “But we’ll talk about how you address me.”
The smirk leaks from her face. She looks back out the window.
“Can my family supply the wine?” she asks, not looking at me. I wonder why that matters to her.
“No.”
Another stiffening of the shoulders. No one supplies food or drinks to my family functions except me.
She doesn’t reply.