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I’m not sure how much she knows about where we are in relation to Italy, but I don’t want to tell her how close we are to home.
“Can he come to our house?”
I smile. “Maybe, baby.”
“Can Zio Marco and Zio Dino come too?”
My heart freezes.
“Maybe. Finish brushing your teeth, love.”
She does.
Her bedtime routine is normal, and I put her in the room that Elio designated. I’m very suspicious, because looking around, it’s clear that he hired someone to make this look like the ideal little girl’s room.
Luna, of course, loves it.
Finally, though, she’s in bed.
I meander out into the hall and into Elio’s room. It’s absolutely massive. There’s a bedroom, a bathroom that I assume could house a small army, but connected to it is a little sitting area.
That’s where I find Elio, with a bottle of wine.
I want to ask Elio about the decorated room, because mentally, my old worry that he is secretly planning to sneak my kid away from me flares in my mind.
Stop.
He signed papers that grant you sole custody. You gave them to Sal. Elio can’t take her from you.
Not to mention, of course, that we…
We are kind of acting like a couple.
Elio pats the couch seat next to him. Slowly, I sit, and he pours me a glass of wine.
I take it.
“Cin cin,” he murmurs, gesturing to me to toast.
I laughed, but clink my glass against his. “You know, it’s physically possible to drink wine without a toast.”
We both sip, and Elio catches my eye, his lips curling as he puts his glass down. “I’m Italian, tesoro mio,” he says with a wicked smile. “I must always say something before I drink.”
“I thought that was more of an Italian-American thing.”
“And have you ever been out to dinner in Italy? The restaurant sings with the sounds of a thousand glasses and a thousand cheers.”
“We didn’t get the chance,” I respond. I contemplate what I’m about to say next.
Because it’s as much a promise as it is a statement.
“Maybe next time,” I finally say.
I hold my breath after the words leave my lips.
Elio catches my meaning. His eyes widen slightly, and he turns to look at me. “Carissima, would there be a next time?”
I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, peering over the edge.
