Page 35 of Till Death Do Us Part

“Roma is taking a couple of personal days before the holiday,” Elsa said. “When do you need her?”

“I can handle it until after the break.” Kerry turned to me. “But I’d really appreciate your help on this one.”

“I’d be working the event?” I asked. “Not just be behind the scenes?”

“Yes, it would be great if you’d be my assistant that night.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Is that a yes or no? It sounded more like a question.” Kerry laughed, probably at the look on my face.

After I nodded,yes, Kerry gave me the date, then turned to Elsa.

“Lunch?”

The walk to The Herbivore seemed like a blur to me, and when my friends asked if I was feeling okay, I told them not really and begged off. I sent Felice a text, letting him know I was leaving work early. I blamed it on a migraine, which was true. It felt like the thoughts in my head were pumping weights.

Before he could drive me, or have Celso, I left. I was extra careful on the drive home. I didn’t want to give him a reason to steal my car again. After I’d drifted into the other lane that morning, I was surprised he hadn’t.

The house was empty when I got home. I rushed to my room and changed out of my clothes. I needed what Isabella called “rags.” Clothes with holes and history. A pair of sweats and an old sweatshirt I’d bought in Rome one summer.

The spacious house held a chill, so I added thick socks. I grabbed a bag of kettle corn, eating it as I drifted from room to room, not sure what to do with myself. The sunroom didn’t hold the same comfort as it usually did. I ended up in Babbo’s office.

It was all dark-stained wood and thick leather-bound medical books. It had an old-world Mediterranean vibe. Most of the house did.

A carved frame with a hand-painted picture of my great-grandparents graced the wall. The rest of the pictures were in silver frames on a shelf.

A picture of my parents on their wedding day. Mariella Basile Corvo, my mamma, made a striking bride. A black and white of my paternal grandparents. Singles of Isabella, Talia, Alina, Lolita, and me right after we were born. One of all of us together. A picture of my father with each of his daughters on their wedding days. His four grandchildren. Paisano ended the line.

“Roma?” My father had a heavy Italian accent, and it always made my name sound musical. “You are home early. Is everything all right?”

He stood in the doorway, watching me.

“Yes. Elsa gave me a few personal days since the holiday is coming up.”

“Bene.” He nodded and took his hat off, hanging it on the peg. He did the same with his coat and scarf, but they went underneath. He set his leather bag down in its special spot. He still carried one.

Paisano followed behind him a second later. He’d probably gone to get water before he found Babbo. The dog was like his shadow. I gave him a scratch behind the ear before he got comfortable on his bed.

Babbo motioned for me to take a seat across from him. He sat after I did.

“I have been meaning to talk to you,” he said.

The popcorn I’d been munching on made a ball in the pit of my stomach. I wished I’d grabbed a drink to wash it down, but I would have probably choked on it. I’d planned on taking a break from thinking when I got home, but I could sense where this conversation was going.

“Jack Maggio,” I croaked out.

He nodded and smiled. “Handsome fella, ah?”

“Yes.” I couldn’t lie.

“He is successful and comes from a good family. His father has been a friend for many years. I feel the two of you will make a beautiful couple.”

There it was.

I’d been feeling as if this entire situation resembled death, but never so much in this moment. I knew it was coming, but when it was confirmed, I felt a piece of my heart shrivel.

My hands held tight to the arms of the chair. The wood had a waxy feel to it, and I knew it would be underneath my nails after I left this room. “Why are you telling me who he is now?”

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