Page 36 of Crimson Vows

I shake my head, and as much as I hate being vulnerable, I know how much Gia needs to see it. “I’m not gonna lie; this whole open physical relationship doesn’t come naturally for me, but I’m trying.”

Dante sips his wine, looking over the rim at us. “You ain’t the only one.”

“What?” I ask in confusion.

“Fuck, are you kidding me?” Dante continues. “I just came to terms with the fact that I’m bisexual. Now, the first guy I really like tells me he’s poly. It’s some heavy shit to sort through.”

The tension dissipates, replaced by an understanding that we’re all navigating our complex emotions.

“Complicated creatures, aren’t we?” Nico interjects, trying to sound light as he pours another round of wine.

“Cheers to that.” Dante raises his glass, and we all follow suit.

“Cheers,” I say, and we all drink again. As the evening continues, we enjoy the food we prepared together, and I lose track of the number of bottles of wine we have shared.

Somewhere in the evening, Dante leans close to me, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “Marco, can you keep a lid on the bi thing?”

“What?” I ask, the alcohol making the edges of his words a bit fuzzy.

“My mom doesn’t know,” he explains.

His earnestness pins me, starkly contrasting to the playful man I’ve witnessed tonight. He’s vulnerable, trusting me with a piece of himself that’s clearly still tender and exposed.

“Your secret’s locked down,” I assure him quietly, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks, man.” The tension eases from his shoulders as he flashes a grateful smile.

As the night wears on, laughter and shared stories weave a bond between us that goes beyond the confines of our Mafia roles. As we finish our meal, wine flows freely, and suddenly, Nico signals for another toast. I’ve lost track of how many reasons we have found during the evening to down another glass.

“To loyalty, trust, and finding our true selves,” Nico declares. We raise our glasses in unison, the clinking sound echoing in the room again.

“It’s my turn,” Gia declares as she finishes her sip. “To good food, good friends... and all the secrets that make us family.”

“Cheers,” we chorus.

“Oh my God!” Dante shouts, and we all jump in response to his booming voice.

“What?” Gia gasps, looking around the room with an alarmed expression.

“I have an idea! Why don’t we play a game of truth or dare?” Perhaps if I were more sober, I would be wise enough never to agree to such a game, but in my current state, I see no reason not to enthusiastically accept the suggestion.

“Who’s first?” Nico inquires.

“Gia is our host, so I say it’s only fair it’s her. Truth or dare?” Dante wiggles his eyebrows comically.

She ponders only a moment. “Truth.”

“Hmm... ever thought of running away from all this craziness?” Dante’s blue eyes are curious, playful, and probing.

“Every day,” Gia admits, and we exchange a look that says we understand without needing words.

“Oh, ’cause your dad and what happened to him.” All of our mouths fall open in response to Dante’s question.

Gia’s expression darkens, her eyes flashing with pain and anger. “Yes, Dante. Because of my father and everything that happened to him. Running away has crossed my mind more times than I can count.”

Dante’s playful demeanor falters, replaced by genuine remorse for accidentally reopening the still raw wounds.

Nico breaks the tense moment by clearing his throat. “Alright, enough seriousness for tonight. Let’s lighten things up a bit.” He turns to me with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Marco, your turn. Truth or dare?”

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