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And that’s my father.
“Can I steal you for lunch?” he asks. “You can see Natalia when we’re back.”
I sniffle, drawing away to shout to Clara that I’ll be back. She comes into view with concern etched on her face.
When she notices my father, her eyes widen, and I mouth,It’s okay.
But from the way she’s digging her phone from her pocket, I know she’s calling Antonio as soon as we leave.
He walks me outside, where I find Bruno waiting by the Suburban. I run into his arms, hugging him, and that comfort of my first home intensifies. I’m a sobbing mess by the time I slide into the backseat, him doing the same behind me.
The SUV is quiet as Bruno drives to my favorite brunch café—a place I always invited my father, but he refused to go. Inhis defense, he’s not anout to brunchman. Bruno stays in the Suburban, and I make my father wait until I clean the smeared mascara from my cheeks before we go in.
All eyes are on us as we follow the hostess to a table on the front patio.
“How have you been?” he asks after we sit.
Other than the occasional text to make sure I was still breathing, our communication has been nil.
“Good,” I reply while spreading the cloth napkin across my lap. “Happy, but missing you guys like crazy.”
“I’m sorry for that. I should’ve kept better contact, should’ve allowed Natalia to visit you.”
Whoa.
My father never apologizes.
“It’s okay. I know this whole situation is difficult.”
“Difficult or not, you’re still my daughter. I’m a father above being a boss.”
The server interrupts our conversation to take our drink orders.
I order a sangria. He orders nothing.
He rests his arms on the table. “I know I’ve been unfair and overprotective, Gigi, but it was always in your best interest. You’re my daughter, and if something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself. My life has always been comprised of death and violence, and I can’t stop myself from always thinking the worst.”
I nod in understanding.
“But it seems protecting you has also resulted in hurting you,” he adds.
“I know you had good intentions.”At least with me.
He extracts a card from his pocket and slides it across the table to me. I pick it up and read it.
Rita Eiken
New York Wedding Planner
I gulp. “What’s this?”
“She’s the best wedding planner in the city. I’ve hired her to give you the perfect ceremony.”
I trace my finger along the embossed letters of her name. “My wedding with Antonio, right?” The question slowly trickles out of my mouth.
I’m not easily fooled. Apology or not, my father is still Monster Marchetti. Given his manipulative nature, it wouldn’t surprise me if he arranged another marriage for me. He’s always resourceful in getting what he wants.
“Yes … with Antonio.” His face pinches together as if he tasted something rancid.
