Dream Boy

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  She chuffs out a knowing laugh and whispers by his ear. “Dad’s not so bad, babe. Just…don’t look him straight in the eye. Never look him straight in the eye.” On those words of wisdom, she waddles off.

  Okay…that put me right at ease.

  Gianni Gallo is sprawled back in his seat at the head of the table. He doesn’t even bother to make small talk. He just sits there, mean-mugging me like a cranky TSA agent who caught me with an oversized tube of toothpaste in my carry-on luggage.

  I don’t blame the man. Put yourself in his shoes.

  He’s never seen me before in his life. And now here I am, bouncing into his house to announce that I’m the random fucker who knocked up his daughter the night she was supposed to be marrying into one of the upstanding families of Copper Heights. I imagine that any father would flip into pissed-off mode in this situation.

  River sits in the high chair next to me, looking like she just escaped a bloodbath. She’s fucking adorable as she struggles to pinch a slippery, tomato sauce covered ravioli between her fingers. When she finally gets it, she smashes the meat-stuffed pasta into her mouth and grins. My chest goes tight and I grin, too. This child is life. Just one look at her and I remember why I’m sitting here, enduring this level of passive-aggressive toxicity in the first place.

  I have a family and they’re mine to love and protect. I won’t let some grumpy, old man get in the way of that. Even if he happens to be Sophia’s father.

  I feel Gianni’s monster paw on my shoulder. He nods his chin at Ben and then at me before gesturing toward the sliding door leading out to the expansive patio. With an unsmiling expression, he tugs back the lapel of his black sports jacket. My defenses go on high alert. I half-expect him to flash me a pistol. But instead, it’s just an innocuous pack of cigars in the chest pocket of his dress shirt. “Let’s go get some fresh air, gentlemen.”

  Sophia glances over at us from the kitchen sink. She groans and rolls her head up toward the ceiling. “Dad…”

  He gives his daughter a hard glare. “I’ll play nice,” he promises in a flat tone that convinces absolutely no one.

  Sophia’s cousin, Franco, leads the way. Ben and I share a look behind his back then get up from the table. I feel a bit self-conscious about my limp so I linger behind them. When I step outside, I carefully slide the door shut to make sure River stays inside.

  Gianni plops down in a lounge chair placed alongside the massive in-ground pool and passes the cigars and lighter around. When everyone’s got their expensive cancer sticks all lit up, the old man glowers at me. "So, let me get this straight—my daughter went to Las Vegas to marry one man but she left Las Vegas forty-eight hours later pregnant by another man?”

  Ben winces and throws me a sympathetic look.

  I clear my throat and straighten in my seat. “That’s one way to look at it.”

  He blurts out a sarcastic laugh. “There are other ways to look at it?”

  “Well, you could say that she went to Vegas to marry a man who didn’t love her and while she was there, she met a man who would lay down his life for her.”

  At that response, he falls silent. He sucks his cigar between his lips and seems to consider. After a long while, he glances over at me, his expression still as hard as ever. “I’m not trying to be rude. I’m just genuinely trying to understand what the fuck happened.” His face grows red. “Because I could have bought a small island near Nekker and been neighbors with Richard fucking Branson for the amount of money I spent on that wedding.”

  My entire left side has been cramping and seizing all day, my frayed nerves screaming for relief. Having this conversation is the last thing I want to be doing.

  My response is downright defiant. “I’m sorry the wedding cost you that much money but the way I look at it, you can’t put a price tag on your daughter’s happiness.”

  Beside me, Ben makes a noise that tells me I’m walking a fine line and that I’m one misstep away from unleashing the old man’s ire.

  Mr. Gallo is a big guy. There’s nothing soft and cuddly about him. But I can tell that he loves his daughters. He just wants to protect them. I can relate to that sentiment.

  Maybe I’m coming at him the wrong way. I clear my throat and address him again. More respectfully, this time. “Sir, Sophia made a huge error in judgment when she agreed to marry her ex but it led her to me and you can rest assured that I am the right man for her.”

  He considers me carefully for another long beat. I hold his stare despite my discomfort. He points his cigar in my direction. “Y’know, I think I might like you. One day.”

  Sounds promising to me.

  The old guy glances over his shoulder toward the kitchen to see if the women are paying attention. Then, he rests his elbows on his knees and leans in toward Ben and me. “Let me tell you fellas a story.” Gianni tips his meaty chin up at us. “I have a sister. Marina. You know Marina?” he asks Ben.

  “No, sorry. Never met her,” Ben says.

  Gianni’s Italian accent comes out, front and center, as he tells the story. “Anyway, that’s not important.” He waves a hand in the air and ashes tumble from his cigar. “Lemme get to the important part. I have this sister, Marina, and she married this punk from Jersey. Raphaelo was his name.”

  “My father,” Franco chimes in.

  “Yeah, Franco’s bastard father,” Gianni continues. “Anyway, Raphaelo was the world’s dumbest fucker because he thought he could run around on my sister, break her heart, make her cry and all that shit.” His eyes narrow to slits and he lowers his voice so low I feel myself leaning closer to hear him. “I got sick of it.” Then his voice explodes, causing me to jolt in my seat. “That’s why I chopped off his balls!”

  I blink, shocked, and Franco nods in confirmation.

  “Yes, I chopped off his balls then I put them in a box with a postage stamp and shipped them off to his girlfriend’s shitty, rundown apartment in Three Oaks.” He takes a long puff from his cigar. “Marina was upset—I mean—who can blame her? Raphaelo was her husband.” Gianni’s brows furrow with something that almost resembles regret. “I gotta say it hurts that she doesn’t come to Sunday dinner anymore but the point is, she and Raphaelo are happy now. They bought a house and moved up near the water and they’re happier than they’ve ever been.” Tears glint in the man’s eyes. With his cigar pinched between his lips, he leans back in his seat and smiles wistfully as he reminisces. Then his attention flashes back to me. He lifts one eyebrow. “Now, that’s not a threat…” he assures me with an appeasing hand gesture.

  “No, not at all,” Franco echoes.

  “…But I just want you to understand that I love my daughters a million times more than I love Marina. So just, keep that in mind. Always.” He sniffs back the remnants of his tears.

  Um, okay then…

  I glance over at Ben for cues on how to handle this conversation but he’s sprawled back in his chair with his cigar in hand and a faint smile on his lips, face up to the sky, like he’s heard these threats a thousand times before. “Got it, sir.” He says breezily.

  I clear my throat and sit upright in my seat. “Mr. Gallo, from the night I met your daughter, there’s been no one else. Not in my heart and not in my bed.” I hold his gaze unflinchingly. “Sophia will always be the only woman for me. And if, for whatever reason, we can’t be together, I’d spend the rest of my life alone because once you get a taste of true love, nothing else in the world can compare.”

  The man watches me, his intent eyes examining my face for any trace of insincerity. He won’t find it.

  Once he’s satisfied that I’m being truthful, Gianni turns over his shoulder and yells in the direction of the kitchen. “Agata—we need some beers out here.”

  The sliding glass door tears open and the well-dressed woman sticks her head outside, eyes blazing. “I’ll say it again—you need to hire a new butler because that’s definitely not me.” She turns on her heel and stomps back into the kitchen.

&nb
sp; The man grunts under his breath as he eases out of his chair. “Women…When you love ‘em, you let ‘em get away with the most dreadful shit.” He saunters in through the door and Agata’s yelp erupts into the air when he slaps the prissy woman on the ass. Hard.

  Franco throws us a glare and then gets up and follows his uncle inside.

  Ben looks over at me with a chuckle. “You know that story is all bullshit, right?”

  I huff under my breath. “Well, damn.”

  “Yeah, that’s the ‘scare you straight’ speech he gives me every now and then. Passive aggressive as hell. Harmless, ultimately. Just a reminder to treat his daughter well.”

  “I don’t need a reminder,” I chuckle. Loving Sophia is easier than breathing. Nothing comes more naturally to me.

  “I couldn’t agree more. Angie is my life. But it makes him feel better to think that he’s controlling the situation with his intimidation bullshit.” Ben shrugs a shoulder.

  The sun slowly sets and the sky falls into darkness. Ben tells me about his upcoming promotion at the fire station and I tell him what it’s like to work at the daycare. We get caught up in the conversation. I let my guard down and start to relax.

  The next thing I know, there’s a huge splash in the pool. I hear a child’s whimper before the sound gets swallowed up by the water.

  “River!” I shoot to my feet but the sudden movement causes my entire left side to freeze up. My muscles lock in place and I tip over, hitting the ground hard.

  Ben springs into action. He sprints toward the pool and leaps in without a moment of hesitation. There’s a lot of thrashing in the water and after the most agonizing five seconds of my life, he emerges with my daughter in his arms.

  Sophia sprints out of the kitchen, shrieking, hysterical as she grabs ahold of the child. The whole family follows after her. Gianni and Franco immediately start arguing about whose fault it is that the door stayed open. Agata collapses into an embrace with Sophia and River while Angie anxiously wipes water from her husband’s face.

  And I just lie there on the cold ground feeling impotent, feeble.

  Useless.

  31

  Sophia

  I am emotionally drained after tonight’s dinner but I don’t have a right to complain because this whole fiasco was all my fault.

  If I hadn’t been so damn eager for my parent’s approval, I wouldn’t have brought Archie and River over there to suffer through dinner. I would have just thrown up my middle finger in the face of their displeasure with my mating decisions and gone on with my life.

  But I was so caught up in trying show my family what a great guy Archie is. So caught up in trying to show them that my relationship with Archie is solid, not just the result of a bad decision I made in Vegas.

  Thinking back on the way things played out tonight, I wish I hadn’t bothered seeking my family’s approval. I wish I hadn’t put Archie and River through all that drama just because a silly part of me insisted that I need my parents to consent to the way I’m living my life.

  Archie got hurt. River almost drowned. It’s my fault.

  I step back from the bathroom sink and scrub my hand down my freshly-washed face. What I need right now is to crawl into bed and wrap Archie’s arms around me and let this horrible day fade to black.

  Tomorrow’s always a fresh start.

  I tiptoe down the hallway and slip into River’s bedroom. I stare down at her in the crib. She’s so beautiful, sleeping peacefully, today’s terrifying events long forgotten. I adjust the blankets over her chubby legs and kiss her forehead before creeping out of the room.

  As I move down the hall to my bedroom, the urge to feel Archie’s arms around me is all I can think about. I just want to fall into that sweet comfort.

  But when I walk into the room, the bed is empty. Fuck.

  I pad quietly to the living room and that’s where I find him.

  My heart sinks into my belly as I watch him, his big body folded up on the narrow, uncomfortable couch. Hugging my arms around myself, I press my eyes shut and purse my lips. I know that Archie is beating himself up about River falling into the pool tonight. This is the last thing we needed. He still hasn’t gotten over the shame of the declined credit card at that jewelry shop in Crescent Harbor last week. Now, add this mess to it.

  He thinks he’s failing. He thinks he’s not being the partner I need, the father River needs. He’s the only one holding himself to those impossible standards. How do I get him to see that?

  My instinct tells me to barge into the living room and give him a shake and demand that he come to bed. But that won’t help anything. It’ll just cause an avoidable confrontation.

  So instead, I turn back down the hall and climb into my bed, tucking myself between the cold, lonely sheets.

  Sometimes love means giving a person the space they need. I just hope he comes to his senses quickly because I hate seeing him suffer like this.

  32

  Archie

  Wincing hard, I lower myself to the edge of the mattress. Fuck. Some days the pain is unbearable. Today is one of those days.

  Sophia and I took the kids to the park this afternoon where I played referee in an intense game of make-up-the-rules-as-you-go soccer. That’s how toddlers do it.

  Keeping up with them was a challenge. I pushed myself too hard. Now, I'm paying the price.

  That self-loathing voice in my brain barks at me. What kind of man can’t keep up with a game of toddler soccer? I wish I were stronger. I wish I could manage the pain, grind my teeth and just push through it. I wish I weren’t so broken. With each passing day, I question whether I really deserve to be here. Whether I can really give Sophia and River the kind of life I promised them.

  Kids' music filters under the bathroom door. I hear River's laughter and the splash-splash-splash of her playing in the tub. Sounds of innocence, hope, goodness.

  God—she deserves so much better than this. So does Sophia.

  They deserve a protector, a provider. I’m just some guy trying to hold himself together with rubber bands. A shell of a man with an empty bank account and a broken body. A man who can’t even jump into a goddamned pool to save his child.

  A part of me died as I lay there on the ground and watched Ben jump into the water for my daughter. Yes, he’s a first responder. He deals with this sort of thing in his line of work. But that was my daughter in the pool. I should have been strong enough to save her. I failed.

  I fucking failed the most important test of my life.

  I glance around the shadowy bedroom. What’s the point of my being here if I can’t do my job to protect this family?

  Sophia sings softly to River, her off-key voice full of tenderness. We haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other in days and I can’t help but wonder how much she resents me right now. She’s a good person so she’d never say it out loud but I know she’s thinking that she was better off before I showed up in this town.

  And she’s right. That thing that happened between us in Vegas, it was doomed from the start.

  Pressing my eyes shut against the wall of shame that bears down on me, I grab my suitcase from the closet. I open drawers, pulling my clothes out and shoving them into the bag. I can’t keep living this lie. I’m just not strong enough. I’m just as weak as my father.

  I haul the bag into the corridor with me. Sophia looks up from River and her twinkling eyes meet mine. “Hey…”

  Guilt wraps its talons tightly around my windpipe. “Hey…”

  When I don’t say anything else, her expression grows puzzled. Until her eyes land on the suitcase at my feet.

  She stands slowly from the edge of the bathtub. “No, Archie…” She’s shaking her head, water dripping from her fingertips as she approaches.

  “I can’t do this…” I say, my eyes focused on the bruised hardwood floor.

  “No.” Her voice grows louder and it trembles with fear. "Talk to me. Archie, fucking talk to me."

  "What
do you want from me, Sophia?"

  “I want you to not walk out on me right now. Tell me that you care about me. Tell me that you love me.”

  I sigh roughly. “I do love you—”

  “And I love you,” she interrupts me. “So, you don’t get to just walk away. Love is a risk but I'm out here in the deep end. All by myself. And I'm terrified..." She reaches out and her fingers curl in the hem of my shirt. Her voice goes incredibly soft. "Be terrified with me. And tell me that you’ll stay, anyway."

  "Sophia...I—I love you. So fucking much. I have no right to love you this much." I rake my fingers through my hair. “I’m a fucking burden on you. I’m half a man. My body’s falling apart. You don’t need that.”

  She whispers through her fear. “No, Archie. No, please. Don’t do this.”

  My jaw clenches. It would have been easier to just slip out. To wait till she was at the grocery store and just leave. But I’m not that much of a coward. I won’t walk out on her the way Josh did. I need her to understand that as much as I want to be with her, it’s not something I’m qualified to do. A man is just wasting space if he can’t take care of his family.

  I cradle her cheek in my palm. “I don’t want to be be a burden on you. I don’t want you to get stuck taking care of me. I just want you to be happy.”

  “Then don’t leave,” she growls.

  I pull in a long breath. “I don’t belong here. You can find somebody better. Someone who can take care of you.”

  She closes her eyes and tears spill out.

  “I’m only holding you back.”

  Her jaw quivers. She’s trying so hard to be strong. When her eyes fly open, they flash fire. “You’re holding yourself back. I’m not the one who sees you as less of a man because of your wounds. You’d have to look in the mirror for the culprit of that crime. You say you want me to be happy? Well, newsflash; you're the only guy for the job.”

  Her words strike me deep, but still, I can’t stay. “I’m sorry.”