Gemma
“Is our family always this obnoxious?” My cousin, Alessandra—who goes by Ally—leans in, whispering the words to me behind her tall cocktail glass. She ordered a fruity, colorful concoction that came with a pineapple slice at the rim and even a little umbrella.
I don’t know why I’m so surprised to see one of our family’s establishments serving something like this, but I am. Despite the fact this is an actual bar. At least on the ground level. The illegal gambling club in the basement is a whole different story, which is the reason why we—as in Ally, me, and almost every other female in the extended Fiore family—aren’t usually allowed here.
Gotta keep our precious weaker sex home in front of the stove, taking care of the kids while the men handle all the important business. Such a crock of shit.
Talk about old-fashioned.
Although, I’m not sure we miss much by not being invited. There are a lot of my female relatives here tonight, which usually doesn’t end well because they’re loud and catty.
Sipping from my glass of Prosecco, I shrug. “I was just wondering the same. Maybe it’s better to skip these gatherings in the future.”
She nods, with a bit too much enthusiasm, her blond hair almost finding its way into her drink. “I know, right? Next time, we’ll convince them to let us stay at home.”
“We would have a lot more fun by ourselves, that’s for sure.”
“Mmm-mm.” She makes a loud slurping noise with her straw when her glass is almost empty.
I hide my chuckle behind my hand. The last thing I need tonight is to be reprimanded for my inappropriate behavior. I’m a grieving widow, after all.
Ally’s phone buzzes in her hand, and she releases a loud breath. “Finally.”
She unlocks the screen in record time, her face turning into a grimace. “Damn it, just a spam message. I hate those fuckers. So annoying.”
“Whose message are you waiting for?”
Her head snaps up, and her wide eyes stare at me like she forgot I’m right in front of her. “Mmmmm . . . no one. Why?”
I tilt my head to the side and stay quiet for several seconds, letting her sweat a little. “We both know you’re a terrible liar, so spill.”
She presses her lips together and just keeps staring at me.
“What are you hiding, Ally?”
Her mouth opens, just as our aunt, Maria, walks up to us.
Oh no.
Maria gazes at me with an overly sullen expression before pulling me into her soft chest. “Polpetta, I haven’t been able to talk to you yet. I still can’t believe Luigi is dead. What a tragedy. He was such a good man.” She inhales deeply and examines me from top to bottom. “Goodness, you look terrible. Not that I blame you. A widow at only twenty. And on the day of her wedding. Some might think it’s a bad omen. Maybe the Morelli family still has some bastardi left who would agree to take you anyway. Wouldn’t hurt to ask, I suppose.”
Her nose wrinkles when she saysMorellilike she just smelled something bad. No one likes that family, but I guess Aunt Maria thinks a Morelli bastard is all I deserve at this point.
Do not punch her. Do. Not. Punch. Her.
Despite her rudeness, the fact that she still insists on calling me meatball because I once was a chubby baby girl is reason enough to dislike her. Add to that, I’m pretty sure she was the one on her knees in front of my now-dead husband, and she just catapulted herself to a whole new level of rancor.
Pulling out of her grasp, I run my hands down my black dress, trying to focus on the soft material instead of the rage that’s threatening to spill out of me. I don’t need any drama tonight.
Papà wasn’t happy when I told him I would wear black clothes and nothing else. No hats, and certainly no veil. It’s not like anyone thinks I’m a real grieving widow anyway. Not sure who this sham is supposed to fool, but I’m not planning on wearing black for a whole year either, that’s for sure. Tradition be damned. I don’t put my foot down too often, since it’s not worth the consequences, but this time, the little spark that started to ignite on my wedding day made me do it.
Ally coughs, and I’m pretty sure I heard the “Bitch,” she tried to disguise.
It breaks through the red haze in my brain and allows me to unlock my jaw without breaking any bones or teeth.
Because I can’t let it go completely, I’m unable to help myself and lean closer to my aunt, only stopping when my mouth is a few inches away from her ear. “Better keep those comments in check, Maria. We don’t want anything bad to happen now, do we?”
She recoils at my words. “Are you threatening me?”