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When my father questioned why I was taking Amara to Italy, I told him she deserves a vacation for once in her life. So I’ve tried to have fun here as much as I can.
We rode the gondolas, visited a medieval castle, dined in the best restaurants, and I bought her everything she picked out while shopping.
I spend my days with her.
My nights with Gigi.
Damien watches Amara and Clara when I visit her.
Standing in line, I think of how I accidentally mentioned Amara to Gigi. It’s public knowledge I have a daughter, but few know what she looks like or where to find her. I hardly trustanyone with something so precious, which is why I lied about staying with my family. While I do have family here, I wanted us to stay safe and private. So I rented a luxury villa for the four of us here.
Amara never meets women I become involved with. Not that I have relationships. There were a few women I fucked on occasion, but I’ve never had anything serious. And nothing in nearly a year.
Besides not having the time to put into a relationship, my daughter questions me about every single fucking thing in the world.
“Daddy, why do people wear glasses?”
“Daddy, why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
“Daddy, is my heart supposed to beat, or am I dying?”
I don’t need to give her more topics for questions, nor do I want someone else to answer to.
“Prossimo!” the clerk behind the counter yells out.
“Due gelati,” I say. “Banana e pistacchio.”
The clerk yells my order to the kid scooping the gelato.
I tap my foot, waiting for the gelato, and bring them to the table after they serve me.
“Thank you, Daddy!” Amara shimmies in her chair when I set the bowl in front of her.
As soon as I take a seat, Damien leans toward me. “We need to talk tonight.”
I practice Italian with Amara, read her two bedtime stories, and tell her doll good night three times before tucking her in. Themoon is full when I walk onto the terrace where Damien is nursing a vodka soda.
He slides a full glass across the table to me when I sit. “You’re gambling with death, Antonio.”
I play with the glass in my hand. “The fuck are you talking about?”
“You know exactlywhoI’m talking about.” He runs his hand through his short hair.
“No, I fucking don’t.”
“Where are you going at night then?”
“To fuck hookers.”
“Bullshit.” Damien is the only man who dares to speak to me like this. “You’ve never been a hooker fan.” His voice drops. “You’re sneaking around with Marchetti’s daughter.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I didn’t know you had me track Gigi here so you could see her yourself for pleasure. I thought it was to have something over Cristian’s head.”
I stay quiet, running my finger along the rim of the glass. “It’s over now. Too complicated.” I knock back my drink.
He furiously shakes his head. “It’s not over.”
