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He took his seat beside me and pulled in closer, whispering in my ear. “Your aunties are watching at two o’clock. Kiss me back.”
I laughed over-enthusiastically as if he had said something unbelievably hilarious. I made a show of kissing him passionately on the cheek. The whoops and cheers that came from across the hall showed it worked. The servers placed stacks of food on the table before us, and the rumbling in my stomach confirmed that I was indeed starving.
“How much longer does this need to go on?” I asked Michael with clenched teeth, a fake smile plastered on my face. “I cannot help feeling like I’m in a Broadway production.”
“Tell me about it,” Michael replied, scanning the crowd. “I feel like a thousand eyes are facing our direction.” He turned to look at me. “Is it really such an outlandish idea that you have a partner? They are all looking at you like you created a vaccine for a deadly virus.”
I laughed a genuine smile at that. “You do not understand what I go through in my family. Trust me. My father and brother are insanely overprotective.” I took a bite of sausage from my plate, savoring the taste. “You only just met the sister of your best friend. Does that seem normal at all to you?”
Michael leaned back in his seat, turning my words around in his mind. I could make excuses for not knowing about Michael or his relationship with Enzo. It was unthinkable, however, that Enzo did not tell his best friend that he had a sister. Michael had never heard my name or seen a picture of me. That showed just how protective of me he was to keep my existence from his best friend.
Michael remained quiet, the silence stretching until it became uncomfortable. I turned all my attention to the food, losing interest in the conversation. As usual, everything tasted fresh and delicious; the food was probably made from produce grown on the farms behind the estate.
I tried to enjoy the party despite the uncomfortable situations that had plagued the entire afternoon. The servers cleared the plates and made a large space for dancing in the middle of the hall. I leaned back with a glass of the lovely wine, watching my relatives dance and make merry.
The laughter in the hall was infectious, and I tapped my feet along to the music. As a child, I loved attending events like this. However, my father did not permit me to play and mingle with the other children. I shook my head, clearing away the nostalgia from remembering easier days.
“Would be nice to dance,” I said to Michael. “I think it would sell the lie better.”
“I agree,” Michael replied. “Unfortunately, I move as clumsily as a penguin with webbed feet. I have absolutely no skills at dancing, and I do not intend to embarrass myself in front of your family, Thank you very much.”
I laughed again, thankful that we could make jokes again. Be a good sport. It is not nearly as bad as you make it seem. I stretched my hand to Michael, smiling. “Come, I will show you how to move your clumsy American feet.”
He regarded my hand curiously, like a wary animal investigating food in the palm of a stranger. “Alessia, do we really have to? I mean, I think we have done a great job of convincing your aunties of our legitimacy.”
“Regardless,” I countered. “I would love to see you dance. Even if it’s just for the fun of it.”
Michael groaned and set his glass down. He pushed his chair backward and held out a hand. I took it gingerly and followed him to the dance floor. He clasped my hand in his, slipping an arm around my waist.
“What now?” he asked, his voice betraying his frustration.
“Now, follow my steps,” I replied. “Do not overthink it… it is not nearly as hard as it looks.”
I led us deeper into the clearing, swaying in rhythm to the music as Michael struggled to stay in step. He was not exaggerating when he said he did not know how to dance. A giggle escaped from me when he missed a step and staggered onto the hem of my dress.
He glared at me with annoyance, but he replaced the expression immediately with a warm smile. I followed his eyes and saw a group of women watching us, smiling. I smiled back at them and earned enthusiastic nods of acknowledgment.
“I really hate this,” Michael whispered. “Can we go sit down now?”
I leaned in to look at him, smiling mischievously. “Oh, I am aware. Why do you think I insisted on us dancing at all?”
He glared at me again, his eyes serious through his glasses as he mumbled a string of curses under his breath.
“What was that you said, cara mia?” I asked him.
“Oh, nothing,” he replied through clenched teeth. “Nothing at all.”
I laughed again. “I thought so.”
8
Michael
The party seemed to go on forever. Alessia had finally agreed to stop dancing after I stumbled the fourth time. I felt like a bumbling idiot as I walked her back to our table. Despite my best attempts to ignore her, I could hear her snickers beside me.
The tempo of the music sped up, and the dance floor was immediately filled as guests started what looked like a local jig. They all moved in unison, clapping and singing along. Alessia clapped and bobbed in her seat, delightedly smiling as she watched. She turned to look at me with pleading eyes. I glared back that said, not in this lifetime.
She rolled her eyes emphatically, then slumped in her seat. I poured myself another glass of wine: another argument with Alessia was the last thing I wanted. I sipped from the glass slowly, scanning the crowd for Enzo. I was sure that wherever he was; he was probably having a good laugh at my predicament.
