“But what, Matteo? You can dance with another woman. Why can’t I dance with another man? It’s all harmless, isn’t it?”
“Is it harmless?”
“Do you think I’m into Carlo?”
“Are you?”
It dawns on me. Matteo is jealous. Why does that thought make me feel giddy?
“Maybe I am,” I say instead of assuaging his fears. It’s my turn to get under Matteo’s skin.
“You’re my wife, Adelina. Remember that.”
“How could I forget?” I walk around him and head back to my seat at the table. He follows me.
“Do you make it a habit of flirting with other men? Is there something I should know?”
“No.”
He leans in closer to me. “Are you lying to me right now?”
“No.” I huff. “Listen, Matteo. I was just having fun, all right. I may disapprove of bikers, but Carlo is easy to talk to. We danced. That’s all.”
“I’m not easy to talk to?”
You make me feel unhinged, I want to say. Instead, I say, “I don’t know how to talk to you. You’re my husband, yet we still feel like strangers in so many ways.”
His gaze darkens. “We can rectify that. Let’s get out of here.”
“And go where?”
“To our wedding night suite. We can really get to know each other there.”
I scrunch up my nose. “I’m not having sex with you, Matteo.”
“Because I disgust you?”
“Yes. In fact, that’s exactly it.”
He growls deep in his throat. “Why are you making things so difficult?”
“I thought you liked a challenge?”
“I do,” he says indignantly.
“Then what’s the problem?” I love turning his own words against him.
He frowns. “There is no problem.”
“Good.” I look away from him. “So that means we can enjoy the rest of our wedding reception.”
Matteo doesn’t say anything except get up, grab the blonde woman, and dance with her again. I watch, feeling the urge to cry.
Serafina sits beside me, out of breath from dancing. “You look like you’re going to kill him. I told you.”
“Told me what?”
“That you’d regret telling Matteo to see other women. It’s written all over your face.”