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“Easy,” Marcel growls from his place.
Vinny holds up his hands in surrender.
“V’s tongue likes to get away with him,” Ava says.
“That’s what she calls it when I—”
“Shhh—shut up!” Ava yelps, jumping to her feet and snatching his apron off his waist.
She chases him back toward the kitchen, trying to hit him with it.
“It was nice meeting you!” He yells across the lawn, over the sound of Ava’s embarrassed laughter, as he flees toward the kitchen again.
Marcel and I sit and watch the pair, the sudden silence falling awkwardly between us.
“You have an interesting future brother-in-law,” I offer tentatively.
Marcel hums in agreement, his smirk barely-there.
“He’s good for her. Ava was a mouse before they met. She’ll still a little reserved, of course, but nothing like when she was growing up. He always made a point to go out of his way to talk to her and include her. I suppose it was only a matter of time. I’ve watched her change for the better with him.”
We study Ava as she walks back to us, the apron still in her hands, an absent and giddy look on her flushed face. It makes me as happy as it does sad.
With Salvatore, I feel as though I’ve only changed for the worse.
But of course, it’s not the same.
“I’m sorry about that. About him,” Ava says, as she takes a seat on the blanket again.
“Don’t apologize,” I chide her. “Except…well, you don’t have any other secret lovers that I don’t know about, do you?”
“God, no. I can barely handle that one.”
“He seems charming.”
“When you’ve only had to listen to it for five minutes, sure.”
I can tell by her smile; she really likes it. “You know you could have brought him around if you wanted. You’ve been spending so much time with me, I’m sure you’ve been missing out…”
“Oh, V is always cooking. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, every day. It’s a full job, but he enjoys it. If I weren’t with you so much, I’d just be getting in his way. Besides, I like getting our girl time…” She wrinkles her nose cutely, “This house was a sausage-fest before you showed up.” She takes a bite of her heart-shaped sandwich with extra love.
For the first time in a few days, that old question scratches at my heart again—is anyone coming to get me? Does anyone even care that I’m here?
Maybe it’s too late for all that. I’m already in too deep.
Lunch is delicious, and I’m glad to finally put a face to all the meals I’ve been served while here. I spend the hour interrogating Ava about her boyfriend, until she playfully demands quid pro quo—if I ask about Vinny, she gets to ask about Salvatore.
It brings the game to a swift and sudden end.
Ava and I spend so much time talking around my circumstances, sometimes she forgets they exist at all, but I haven’t forgotten Salvatore’s lesson about gossip.
I spend the rest of the pretty afternoon lazing around the yard, desperate to enjoy every last second that I can. We chat, and read, and listen to pop songs on the tinny speaker of Marcel’s phone.
Too soon, the sun draws low over my day of freedom, throwing out long shadows into the yard and turning the breeze bitter.
As we walk back to the house, I stop in my tracks by the patio—fully expecting to see Salvatore. For a moment, I’m not sure why. I can’t place the sudden association. Then I smell it in the air, the lingering scent of cigarettes that he shared with me that first night.
I wonder if they’re really his, if he leaned over the railing and watched us from afar. If he was reluctant to join us for some reason. Even when he’s close at hand, he feels like a mystery.
