Page 25 of Married With Malice

She has yet to speak a direct word to me today. So far she has stayed curled up in the seat farthest from the one I’m sitting in. Last I saw, there was a purple satin sleep mask pulled over her eyes.

First thing this morning I went to the hospital, where Sabrina was still recovering from her emergency appendectomy. I brought flowers and made small talk with Anni’s mother and her sisters, who were all friendly. Anni, on the other hand, stood at the window with her posture stiff and a scowl on her face, refusing to acknowledge my presence.

The phone prank might have been going too far. Being around Annalisa has always resulted in poor choices on my part. Fair to say this is a mutual flaw. We bring out the worst in one another.

Yesterday’s wedding hijinks raised a lot of eyebrows. Before I left for the airport Richie pulled me into his office to make sure I understand the assignment. He keeps a photo of my mother, his only sister, on his desk. These days I always avoid looking at the photo, unwilling to wonder what my own parents might think of me.

In the end, my uncle was pleased to receive the reassurance he was looking for. Annalisa is my wife now and I’ll treat her like a wife. There’s no getting out of this farce for the foreseeable future.

Yet all we’ve done is regress to our teenage years. Someone has to make the first peace gesture, especially now that we’re on our way to spending a week together all alone in beachy paradise.

For the last hour I’ve been staring at my laptop in an attempt to read through some contracts Richie told me to look over. The words keep swimming in front of my eyes no matter how hard I try to concentrate. This will have to wait. I shut the laptop, close the retractable table, and leave the cushy seat in search of my wife.

She hasn’t moved but she’s awake now. Her legs are curled under her, her earbuds are in and she’s staring at the movieTitanicon a large iPad. Her eyes don’t even flicker in my direction as I sink down beside her.

For a moment I just watch the characters’ lips move in silence. The plot is at a pivotal point. The ship just hit the iceberg and people are arguing over whether or not it’s a good idea to get into the lifeboats.

I doubt Annalisa is too engrossed in the movie to realize that I’m sitting here so I don’t feel shy about checking her out. Despite our personality clash, I could stare at this girl for hours. She’s dressed normally today, in a dark blue top with snug jeans and her hair is clipped into a messy bun.

One unavoidable fact is that I find her sexy as hell no matter what she’s wearing. I can smell her perfume, a light vanilla-tinged scent that shouldn’t drive me wild but does. The prospect of being alone with her wreaks havoc on my pulse.

“Is there a reason you’re breathing down my neck?” Anni says. She plucks out her earbuds and flips her iPad facedown before giving me a dark glare.

“Is that what it felt like? I was trying to blow on your ear. At least now I know that my seduction skills need some work. Let me try again.”

“Luca.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and the gaudy diamond on her left hand catches a glint of light. “Go torture someone else. I’m exhausted.”

She’s free to lie down. My lap could double as a very willing pillow.

I have a feeling this suggestion won’t be met with enthusiasm right now.

“We should have a talk,” I say.

“Great. That’s always a treat.” She takes her hand away from her face and eyes me with contempt. “Go for it.”

Instead of volleying a smartass remark, I open with some honesty.

“I want you to know that I didn’t really go snooping through your phone.”

“You changed all my profile pics.”

“A regrettable misstep that you have already corrected.”

“You impersonated me in social media posts. That’s probably a crime somewhere.”

“Feel free to conduct a citizen’s arrest. You can even slap on handcuffs. We’d both enjoy that.”

She exhales loudly. “It’s truly impossible for you to mature past the age of fourteen, isn’t it?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have thought of something way less juvenile, like donning a demon costume for the wedding and throwing my shoes at the guests.”

“I did NOT throw my shoes at the guests!”

“Are you sure? You stormed out in a big hurry after your tantrum. You missed seeing that sweet old lady in the red pillbox hat sobbing after a projectile sandal landed in her salad.”

“That was Mrs. Miceli, our retired maid. And she starts crying every time she remembers that her cat died five years ago.”

“Which makes the shoe assault so much sadder.”

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