Page 24 of That's Amore

She had filed for divorce because she had heard me tell Dean we couldn’t have a long-term marriage. I turned to see Lucia sitting next to my cousin Vittoria, whom she disliked. Their feelings were mutual.

Did I want Lucia? No. If I did, I should’ve been allover her since my wife, who’d filed divorce papers, had given me the green light, and yet, I wouldn’t touch Lucia. Why was that?

I stroked a finger down Elysa’s silken arm simply because I wanted to.

The idea that we were done didn’t sit well with me, though I didn’t know why. I wished Nonno was alive because then, these confusing emotions wouldn’t have taken over my life. I’d still be Elysa’s husband, and everything would be the way it was.

I wouldn’t miss her.

She turned to look at me, startled.

I smiled at her. “Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?”

She seemed baffled by my comment. “Yes, you did,” she replied hotly. “Actually, no, you didn’t. Your words were to the effect that Patrizia had outdone herself.”

Had I?

Yes. And now that she repeated my words, I realized how insensitive they were. I hadn’t complimented her; I’d praised her stylist, who she didn’t like.

Regret flared in my belly. I shouldn’t have forced Patrizia on her. That had been foolish of me. Why couldn’t I have just listened to Elysa and given her this small thing she asked for? It wasn’t like she asked for much…well, except for the divorce…where she was also asking for nothing, just a legal severing of our relationship.

"Mi dispiace,cara... Elysa." I corrected myself, knowing she hated being calledcara. After all, I called Lucia that, and she was right in feeling slighted by the endearment, regardless of how casually I used it. "Perdonamifor being so rude."

She swallowed. “Well…it’s of no matter,” she said with false nonchalance. She did that often, didn’t she? Pretend she didn’t care when she did. How come I hadn’t noticed it before?Because you weren’t looking,testa di cazzo.

“This is such a beautiful location,” Perla Gotti, the woman sitting next to me, said. Her husband was busy flirting with some other man’s wife.

“Si,” I agreed. “It embodies the grandness of Rome.”

The Villa Medici was indeed a gem, perched on the Pincio Terrace overlooking the city. Tonight, it was bathed in golden light. The ballroom opened onto sprawling gardens filled with perfectly manicured hedges and Roman sculptures that glowed under the soft illumination. Crystal chandeliers hung from high, frescoed ceilings inside, casting prisms of light over the well-dressed crowd.

“Your wife is lovely,” she commented. She slurred like she was tipsy.

“Grazie.”

She then looked at her husband, who was staring at the tits of the woman sitting next to him while her companion—her husband, I think—was in his cups.

“I thought we were supposed to sit at that table.” Her chin nodded to where Lucia was.

I arched an eyebrow, and she chuckled. “I think your wife moved us, which I’m grateful for because if I had to hear Vittoria Bellini talk about her shoe collection, I might hit her with my shoe. No offense. I know she’s your cousin.”

“I don’t think my wife?—”

“She did,” she cut me off. “She doesn’t like yourfriend. Actually, I don’t like your friend either. I don’t know her, but I don’t like her. A woman who chases after another woman’s man has a special place in hell. I think Madeline Albright, the American diplomat, said that.”

I wanted to correct her because I knew the quote—Madeline Albright had said that about women who didn’t support other women—but since the sentiment was the same, I let it go.

“Lucia is not chasing me,” I protested.

Perla’s laugh was bitter. “No? Then why does your wife look at her the way I look at my husband’s little conquests?”

She swirled red wine in her glass, staring at it like it held some secret she was trying to decode. “You think you’re different, but men like you, men like my husband, you make us feel like…props. Decorations. Useful when convenient, invisible when not.”

“I don’t—” I started, but she turned to me sharply, her eyes narrowing.

"Yes, you do. Maybe not on purpose. Maybe you tell yourself you love her. But actions speak louder than that, signore." Perla set her wine glass down in disgust. "You let her sit at these tables alone, watching you flirt with another woman, watching you dance with her." She glared at me now, and I was glad that looks could not kill. "You say nothing is happening with yourfriend, but what you're really doing is asking your wife to live with your choices—to swallow the humiliation and pretend it doesn’t hurt."

I felt my face heat with embarrassment. “Lucia and I work together, and we weren’t flirting; we were discussing business.” I wanted Perla to shut the fuck up because she was being too forward and that wasn’t done in our society.

---