by Gina Azzi
I promised myself that I would hold my head high and strut through the classroom door with a confidence that I seldom possess, except for when I’m onstage performing. Then I can be a completely different person. In reality, I shuffle through the door as class begins, my shoulders rolled forward, my hair falling to hide my face from view.
When I look up, Pete Buchanan is staring straight at me.
I slide into my seat just as Professoressa calls out my name. She looks at me expectantly, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion.
“Scusa?” I ask politely.
“Are you unwell?”
“No, I’m fine,” I assure her in Italian, pasting a tight smile on my face.
She nods curtly, and I’m certain she doesn’t believe me.
Moments later, she turns to the whiteboard and jots down points for today’s agenda.
“Mia,” Pete whispers next to me. I can feel his breath on my cheek and see him leaning forward in my peripheral vision.
Don’t cave, Mia. Don’t give him the time of day.
“Oh come on, Mia. Don’t be like that. Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was drunk and stupid and …”
“Pietro. Do you have something you would like to share with the class?”
“No, Professoressa. Scusa.”
“Mia, I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his tone contrite.
I don’t turn once to look at him. I pretend he doesn’t even exist. I don’t cave. I don’t give him the time of day.
Pete Buchanan, who?
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lorenzo
I hiss loudly when the hot espresso coats my tongue, burning my throat when I swallow. I shouldn’t even be awake this early, but I’ve been sleeping like shit ever since meeting with Rafaello, rehashing his words over and over in my mind each night. Now, at 6:00AM, I’m standing in the kitchen, my bare feet quiet on the marble floor, hoping Mama and Claudia wake up soon and find their way into the kitchen for their morning espresso. We need to talk. All of us. I’ve put this off for far too long, and now I’m regretting it.
The minutes tick by slowly. I shuffle back and forth in front of the large windows that overlook our garden. The day is gloomy, the chill of winter creeping in with the fall of the leaves. I should just go back to sleep, but what if I miss Mama and Claudia? Then I will have to wait until tonight, and I don’t want to carry this information around like the burden it is for one more day. I’ve reached my limit. They need to know about Anthony. They need to know that Benito is back in town.
“Enzo?” Claudia asks softly. “What are you doing awake?” She walks into the kitchen clad in yoga pants and a zip-up hoodie, her iPod and headphones clenched in her hand.
“Going to the gym?” I avoid answering her question.
She nods. “Is everything okay?”
I stare at her, stealing precious seconds before I change her life forever. We have a brother. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t tell her yet. She looks so worried about me, genuine concern in the tightness of her lips, empathy in her eyes. God, when did she become so sincere? Was she always such a caring sister? Did I miss seeing her compassion for others, her kindness, because I was blind to it? Or did she not show it toward me because I never appreciated it? Never appreciated her. I’m a shitty brother, yet here she stands, worried about whatever emotions are playing out across my face.
“Enzo?” Claudia asks again, stepping closer and placing a hand lightly on my forearm. “What is it?”
I shake my head, clearing my mind from all the unworthy thoughts taking up residence there. “Want an espresso?” I deflect again.
“Si,” Claudia says simply.
“Sit down.”
She watches me warily for a beat before perching on the edge of her chair, studying me carefully as I prepare her espresso. After I hand her the demitasse and sit down, we stare at each other in silence, the wide table separating us, an entire ocean of unsaid words, hesitant thoughts, and uncertain emotions.
Claudia raises the demitasse to her lips, takes a small sip, and sets it back down on the saucer. She raises her eyebrows at me expectantly.
Sighing deeply, I run my hand through my hair. This is it. Time to lay it all out there. My leg bounces lightly under the table. I’m momentarily relieved that Claudia can’t see my nervousness.
Deep breath, Enzo. Just tell her.
“Enzo?” Her voice is small, worry thick in her tone.
Fuck.
“Is it Mama?” Tears lace through her words.
Just tell her the truth.
“We have a brother.” I blurt it out and immediately curse myself for being so careless when I witness the shock freeze Claudia’s features.
“What?” she asks slowly as if she’s speaking to a small child. “What are you talking about?”
I sigh, hanging my head for a moment. Start at the beginning. I reach my arm across the table, clasping Claudia’s tiny hand in my own. Meeting her eyes, I speak slowly. “I went to see Rafaello.”
“When?”
“Weeks ago.”
A blaze of anger crosses her face. It quickly morphs into concern. “What did he say?”
I tell her everything I know.
* * *
“That snake!” Is Claudia’s first reaction when I finish relaying the information I received from Rafaello.
I hold my breath, unsure if she is referring to Papa, Benito, Rafaello, or our long-lost brother, Anthony.
“I can’t believe he’s Papa’s brother.”
I let out my breath slowly. Thank God. She meant Benito. I nod in agreement.
A small tear trickles down Claudia’s cheek, and she brushes it away absentmindedly as if she never acknowledged its presence. “I can’t believe this; I can’t believe Papa would do this. Lie to Mama all these years. Put her in this position. What was he thinking?”
I sigh. “I don’t know.”
“Ugh, I’m so mad! And I feel guilty about it because he’s not even here to confront, to defend himself.” Another tear rolls down her cheek. She closes her eyes, her fingertips massaging the center of her forehead.
I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. “You have every right to be mad. I’m pissed as hell.”
“We have to tell Mama.”
I nod. “I know.”
But then my breath catches in my throat, and I nearly choke as Mama’s slight frame waltzes purposely into the kitchen.
“Tell me what?”
Claudia sighs lightly. “Mama, sit down. Let me prepare you an espresso. Enzo and I would like to speak with you.”
I look up so fast my neck cracks. Whoa, my sister really has it together. How the hell did she check her own pain, her own anger so quickly? I watch as Claudia stands up, pushing Mama gently into the vacant chair. She prepares the espresso calmly, the only tell of her nervousness held in the tightness of her shoulders.
“What is it?” Mama asks.
Claudia hands the espresso to Mama and sits down next to me. She takes my hand in hers under the table and squeezes lightly. I flinch. Claudia smiles tightly at Mama. Her hand taps gently against my knee, forcing me to quit bouncing my leg. She gives me a pointed look and takes a deep breath.
“Lorenzo and I have recently learned that we have a brother,” she states clearly, presenting the issue of Anthony as a united front. She doesn’t even hint that I’ve kept this information from her for weeks. I squeeze her fingers in gratitude.
Then I watch as Mama’s face falls.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Mia
I slam my laptop shut, watching as the apple light fades to dark. Pushing back from my desk, I stand and collapse on my bed, frustration seeping from my pores.
“Tough day?” Lexi asks from the doorway. How does she always manage to show up at the worst possible times? Or the best, depending on how you look at it.
“The topic and outline of my partner project is due in two days,” I grumble, keeping my eyes close
d.
“Okayyy?”
“Pete is my partner,” I remind her.
Lexi laughs. Like really laughs, from her stomach.
I look up sharply, propping my elbows behind me to support my weight. “You’re kidding right? This isn’t funny! It’s a disaster.”
Lexi rolls her eyes and plops down in my computer chair. She reminds me of Lila, and I long terribly for home, for my friends, for the predictability of my old life. I messaged Lila several nights ago to check in on her, see how she’s handling everything with Cade. Still no response.
“Stop being dramatic,” Lexi advises, pulling her long legs up and tucking her knees under her chin. She wraps her arms around her knees, hugging them to her chest, and regards me thoughtfully. “Pete’s a douche,” she states obviously.
“I know.”
“But it’s school, so you’re just going to have to put your differences aside and figure out how to work together. I mean it’s a project; get together once, divide up the work, and meet after you both complete your individual parts to make sure it all flows. Really, you could probably do everything over email without ever getting together. Do whatever you’re comfortable with, but don’t let your grade suffer because of that dick. I would be supremely disappointed in you Amelia Petrella.”
I laugh at her serious expression. And her use of my full name. It’s true though. I shouldn’t let my grade suffer because I’m embarrassed about the way things with Pete turned out. Ugh. Who am I? I would never let my grade drop because of a freaking boy. Stupid Pete.
“Well?” Lexi prompts.
“Yeah, I know you’re right.”
“Of course I am.”
“Mia.” Paola knocks softly on the door, peeking her head inside. She smiles lightly, a knowing look in her eyes. “There’s a boy at the door for you.”
I sit up straight, my mouth open in shock.
Lexi stands up. “No way. Is it Lorenzo?”
Paola frowns a little, her eyes flashing up to meet mine as she shakes her head. “No, he says his name is Pete.”
Lexi sits back down, and I groan. Stupid Pete.
* * *
“I really am sorry,” Pete apologizes again, leaning over to lightly touch my wrist.
We’re sitting at a café across the street from my apartment. No way was I letting Pete come inside where Lexi and Paola, and probably even Gianluca would eavesdrop shamelessly.
“It’s fine,” I say tightly.
Pete sighs and lets out an exasperated laugh. “Mia. I have sisters. I know that saying you’re ‘fine’ means that you’re pissed as all hell.”
I laugh in agreement. I am pissed as all hell.
“Look, it was stupid, I was drunk, and I acted like a dick. I get that. But we still have to do this project, and I would like to get a solid grade in this class. I promise not to act like an asshole, but will you please do the project with me? We’ve already made so much progress.” He looks so sincere, his eyes full of remorse. Pete hunches forward, resting an elbow on his knee. “I really am sorry.”
Gah! What am I going to do, stay mad at the guy forever? I’ve seen lots of people do lots of stupid things when they’re drunk. At the forefront, some of Lila and Emma’s shenanigans come to mind.
But he really hurt my feelings.
I look down at the ground, dragging out Pete’s apology for a few extra seconds. When I look up, I resolve not to be angry any longer. So he probably thinks I’m fat … I think I’m fat too. Can I really stay mad at someone for pointing out the truth? “It’s fine. We can finish the project.”
Pete visibly relaxes. “Good.” He nods his head up and down. “I’ve done some work on it this morning that I can show you.” He pulls a notebook out of his backpack. “Thank you, Mia.”
“Sure,” I say noncommittally, taking a look at his notebook.
Hmm, not too bad. Why does Pete have to be smart too? I take a deep breath. I watch him guardedly out of the corner of my eye. He’s still looking at the notes in his notebook. Damn. I guess I’ll just have to suck it up and do the assignment with stupid Pete.
* * *
“How’d it go?” Gianluca asks when I enter the apartment forty minutes later.
I shrug. “Okay, I guess. We still have to do our assignment together so …” I trail off, implying that I don’t really have a choice about having to spend time with him.
Gianluca nods. “I know.” He takes a step toward me. “But, Mia …” He sighs, running a hand over his stubble. He looks uncertain, which is so out of character for him that I freeze. “I don’t want to overstep here, but I can tell whatever that boy did hurt you.” He watches me closely, gauging my reaction to his words.
I avert my gaze and look at my shoes, basically confirming Gianluca’s hunch.
Gianluca sighs. “Whatever it is, bella…” he touches my chin lightly, causing me to look up into his serious expression, his brown eyes warm, worried “…always know that you deserve the world, and any guy that isn’t willing to give that to you isn’t worth your time. Va bene?”
I nod in agreement, smiling at him. Gianluca really is a big teddy bear. I hope he and Paola have a whole house full of kids one day. Gianluca will be an amazing dad.
“Grazie,” I tell him shyly.
He nods. “Let me know if you ever need anything. I’m serious, Mia.”
I nod again.
“Okay…” he claps his hands together, and I can tell he’s relieved that the awkward part of the conversation is over “…vuoi un caffé latte?”
“Si, per favore.”
“Perfetto. Let’s go into the kitchen.”
I follow him into the kitchen and sit at the table, staring out the window thinking over Gianluca’s words. He’s right. Lila and Emma and Maura are always telling me that I deserve a great guy, someone who will value and respect me. The thing is, I’ve never had a serious relationship, never had a boyfriend. Of course in theory I know how a girl is supposed to be treated. But, really, how can someone truly love me when I’m so disgusting and pathetic? When I have no self-discipline or will power? When I can’t even get through one day of sticking to my goals?
I shift in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable thinking about the banana I ate this morning. So many useless carbs.
When Gianluca sits down beside me, he jostles me out of my thoughts, and I look up. He watches me for a moment, his warm eyes tight with concern and shadowed with an emotion I can’t read. “You’re sure everything is okay, cara?”
I nod. “Yeah. Everything’s great.” I smile brightly. Too brightly.
Gianluca nods once, pushing the caffé latte he made toward me. I smile for real when I see his attempt at a leaf in the foam.
Aw, Gianluca attempting latte art.
I giggle.
He shrugs but returns my smile. “Lexi is teaching me. Next time it will be better,” he promises.
* * *
Emma’s face lights up my computer as her laughter rings out like church bells, long and steady. And then she’s hysterical.
“Oh my God! Stop laughing,” I scold her.
“I can’t help it. I can’t believe you have two guys fighting over you.”
“You sound like Lila.” I roll my eyes. Which reminds me, I really do need to call her. “What are you even talking about? Pete isn’t fighting over me; we’re doing a project together.”
Emma shakes her head aggressively, her bangs blinding her momentarily. “No such thing, babe. He’s trying to make amends so he can try again.”
“Try what?” I raise my eyebrows.
‘Try to get in your pants, that’s what!”
I grimace, curling my upper lip unattractively. Wow, I lean closer to see my expression in the little FaceTime box. Is that what I look like when I’m grossed out? What a terrible expression.
“Stop looking at yourself and focus on me,” Emma whines.
I snap my eyes back to her face. “That’s disgusting. He’s not trying to do that.”
“What are you doing home on a Friday anyway? Shouldn’t you be out liaising with a Senator or something?”
“Yeah, or something,” Emma comments.
I raise my eyebrows. “What are you not telling me?”
She sighs. “Nothing. Look I got to go. Just wanted to see if you spoke to Maura. I got like a bazillion missed calls from her at like three in the morning. So weird. I tried calling her back but haven’t managed to get a hold of her.”
Maura’s random missed calls! “Yes! That happened to me too. It was weeks ago though.”
Emma shakes her head. “No, for me it was on Tuesday.”
“Hmm, that’s strange. Drunk dials?”
“Maybe. I’ll catch up with her this weekend.”
I nod. “Okay.”
Emma smiles. “I got to go. Late night shenanigans and all that.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Good luck losing the douche. Trust me, he’s in it for the long haul.”
I stick my tongue out at her. “Stop saying that.”
She blows me a kiss. “Talk to you soon.”
“’Bye, Emma.” I click off FaceTime.
What is she talking about? Pete isn’t trying to make amends; I mean, technically he already apologized and everything is fine, right?
It’s just a school project.
November
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Lorenzo
“So, what do you think?” I prod Claudia’s calf with my toe.
“Ew, don’t put your stinky feet on me,” She responds, sitting up.
We’re lounging on her bed like we’ve done thousands of times as kids, and more recently over the past few months. Claudia sits up straight, her legs crossed. She flips through the pages of a magazine methodically, her eyes looking at the pages blankly. I’ve just filled her in on the other piece of information I’ve been keeping from her: Benito’s back in town.
“And Sandro said he’s been talking to Gianni Costenzo?”
I nod. “Si.”
“We’ve got to draw Benito out,” she says finally, looking up to meet my gaze. She chews the corner of her lip thoughtfully and then nods, confirming her decision. “Yeah, we’ve got to get his attention.”