Page 38

“What?” Giovanni asks. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m not, I’m just surprised how much you take after me,” I say. “I love it.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” he says with a grin. “Can Gia eat with us? Even though she cooked the food?”

I nod. “Yes, she can.”

I wait for Maria to bring the food and tell her I want Gia to eat with us; that’s an order. Maria nods and places another setting on the table to my left; Giovanni sits to my right. She hurries off, and we wait, me not so patiently.

Gia keeps us waiting fifteen minutes before she emerges from the kitchen in that little dress she was wearing earlier. Her hair is dry and in a messy bun on top of her head.

As usual, she’s tense, with her arms crossed, and she glares at me before she sits down, looking uncomfortable.

But Giovanni didn’t seem to notice. “We waited for you,” Giovanni announces with a broad-faced grin. “We wait for everyone before we start eating, but usually it’s just Daddy and me. I’m glad you came to sit by us.”

My son is so innocent, thinking this was Gia’s decision.

He starts babbling away with full excitement in his voice. He explains to me how they made the food and how much he loves having Gia there. She’s his favorite person ever.

Gia seems to thaw at my son’s words and finally relaxes. I dish up for Giovanni and set his plate in front of him, but Gia insists on dishing for herself.

We eat, and Giovanni regales Gia with stories of his various adventures over his six years of being alive on this planet. When she responds to him, I instantly notice she doesn’t use a baby voice with him; she addresses him like she would any adult.

Except maybe me, she totally disrespects me.

But they laugh together and seem to have a lot to talk about. I enjoy it when she calls him Gio. Ha, Gia and Gio, a right pair.

I keep quiet for the first half of the meal, but I can’t ignore my son for long as he tries to drag me into the conversation. I give one, maybe two-word answers at first, but soon enough I’m adding to the stories Giovanni is telling, talking about what he was like as a baby.

We laugh together as I explain how much he used to fart in his sleep. He isn’t embarrassed at all.

We have dessert and the conversation flows smoothly. Gia tells us a story, and while she emphasizes her point, her hand involuntarily reaches to touch mine. We seem to realize at the same time what she’s doing, and we stare at each other.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

GIA

I’m frozen in place, my hand on top of Matteo’s. Tender tingles shoot through my arm, almost making me gasp and giving me away.

I can’t explain it.

His face remains passive, but his eyes flicker…briefly…I almost miss it. Is he having the same inner conflict as I am? We’re enemies; why does this touch feel so right?

Heat shoots through me, and a burning knot settles in my stomach. My mind reels with the confusing feelings coursing through me.

I shouldn’t feel anything but absolute hatred for this man. It does linger there at the back of my mind, but I just don’t recognize it as the first thought in anymore.

Matteo, Gio, and I were having such a good conversation that it felt natural to reach out and touch him to emphasize my point. I didn’t even think about it.

How has it come to this?

Another stab of heat shoots through me as I realize my hand is still on his and I’m still staring at him.

I clear my throat and finally pull my hand away as if I burned it. I put it in my lap, together with my other hand. It betrayed me.

“I should get to bed,” I mumble, looking down. “Thank you for…”

“No, don’t go,” Gio butts in. “Stay. We can play board games.”