Page 97 of Married with Mayhem

My brother knows me too well. If I tell him he’s on the wrong track, he’ll know I’m lying.

Besides, he’s not mistaken.

Sabrina has got me spiraling. I think about her all the time. I miss her when I’m not with her. Fuck, I miss her right now, needy as that sounds. I’m counting down the hours until we’re alone and she’s in my arms again. Every time I hold her, I’m more sure that I won’t be able to ever let her go.

“Shut up,” I finally mumble to my brother. Not my best work.

He’s quiet for a minute, then says, “Look, I’m just messing with you. The truth is, there’s nobody better than Sabrina. She’s truly special and there’s always been an electric energy surrounding you two. Knowing that you finally got together is the one good thing to come out of all this mayhem.”

“Yeah, about the mayhem,” I say and choose my words with care. “How’s it looking on the home front?”

“Calm,” he says, equally careful. “There was a card game at Gino’s last night. No interruptions at all. Almost like a troublemaker or two has just disappeared. Everyone else is relieved. And maybe a little nervous about getting on the bad side of some crazy European businessman. Oh, and Big Pete said to tell you and Sabrina hello. Says there’s no hard feelings. He didn’t seem aware of your joyous news so Dad and I kept it to ourselves.”

Translation: Lenny Lombardo has already been dealt with and the rest of the New York crowd decided it was healthier not to be on the receiving end of Vittorio Messina’s fury. Lombardodidn’t collect many loyal friends and nobody is going to risk starting another war for him.

Also, word hasn’t spread that I’m ‘married’ to Vittorio’s niece. The less said on that topic for now, the better. I don’t want to give out reasons for Sabrina’s name to be in anyone’s mouth.

“How’s Dad?” I ask.

“He trusts you,” Nico says. “But he’s still Dad. He worries.”

“I’ll make it up to him. Is business good?”

He knows I’m not talking about how many pizzas were sold last week. “Very good. Had a nice week and there’s some new opportunities I want to talk to you about. But the volume is a lot for a lone employee. Especially when I’m used to having this fearsome motherfucker with a bad attitude around to keep the slackers from bailing.”

“I’ll be coming back. And when I do, I won’t have much patience for anyone holding out. You spread the word. One way or another, their debts will be paid.”

“Message received,” Nico says.

Then he hesitates and the silence stretches.

“Speak your mind,” I mutter.

“I meant it,” he says. “This is a good thing, you and Sabrina. I can’t tell you what a treat it is to hear that you’ve finally found a girl who can knock you on your ass. And don’t tell me I’m exaggerating.”

“Fine, I won’t.” Because he’s not.

He snorts. “Take care, man.”

“You too. I’ll be in touch.”

Next, I try to call my father but his voicemail picks up. No wonder. It’s Friday, getting near the dinner hour on the east coast. I leave him a message, just a few sentences to say that I’m fine and so is Sabrina. That should be enough to ease his mind for now.

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. My gold wedding ring flashes in the sunlight.

Theoretically, with Lombardo out of the way, I’m free to return to New York at any time. But I’m not going anywhere without Sabrina and I won’t pull her away from her family before she’s ready to go.

Funny how quickly things can change. Two weeks ago, I wasn’t thinking about any long term plans. No matter how many stories I’ve heard about how easy it is to fall for the right girl, I was sure I was immune. It’s time to admit that I’m not the same guy I was before I got the call to pick her up from the airport.

I haven’t put a title on this yet and neither has Sabrina. But I’ll agree to whatever she wants to call it. As long as I get her in the deal.

The store is well stocked for such a small place. I have no trouble finding the boneless chicken breasts, Marsala wine and mushrooms requested by Sabrina’s mother. She also asked for milk, eggs, ricotta cheese and fresh cherry tomatoes.

They’re all out of Sabrina’s favorite candy so I use my imagination and pick up a box of hot chocolate packets, a can of whipped cream and a jar of maraschino cherries.

“How would you like to eat my cherry, Monte?”

Remembering this scene in the Pittsburgh diner, I bust up laughing in the middle of the canned fruit aisle. A woman dressed for a yoga class throws me a funny look and hurries away.

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