“Down, boy.”
“No, seriously. Give me his name, I’ll track him down, and rearrange his face.”
“I love how protective men are down here.”
“Damn right. What happened?”
She lets out a long sigh. “Everybody assumed Stefano Cecchetto and I would end up together. He was two years older. His family owns a successful chain of fine grocery and high-end catering stores. They lived in our neighborhood. They were Catholic. They went to the same church. They shared our values. Yadda-yadda-yadda.” She rolls her eyes. “Why not join forces, right?”
“Bad idea?”
“Terrible idea. Stefano and I saw each other at functions and parties. He went to an all-boys’ school. I went to an all-girls’ school. When I turned nineteen, he asked me out on a date. I said yes. We saw each other for two years, and then he popped the question right after I turned twenty-one. Things were comfortable with him. It wasn’t passion that melted my insides and certainly nothing that rocked my world––unlike what I experienced yesterday with a certain country boy––”
“Well, well, well, the truth comes out.” I grin.
She grins back. “I figured if I said it in passing, you wouldn’t notice.”
“Good try.”
“In any case, flash forward to my big day. A year after he proposed, Stefano and I are standing in front of God and family. You know when the priest asks that question that’s supposed to be a way out?”
“They still ask that question?”
“Old school priests still do.”
“Got it.”
“Usually, no one objects at a wedding, right?”
“I assume,” I say.
“Not on my wedding day. All of a sudden, the backdoors to the church flew open and this woman, who was pregnant out to here”—she holds her hands in front of an imaginary belly—”came wobbling down the aisle, screaming,‘You can’t marry her. You love me and our baby’.”
My eyes grow wide. “Shit.”
“Yup. The whole time we were dating, Stefano promised he’d save himself for me. I made the same promise. I kept my end of the bargain. He lied. He’d been with this woman for a long time. His parents knew. No one bothered to tell me––”
“Spawn of a bull’s right nut.”
“What?”
“Another way of saying son of a bitch.”
“Stefano is indeed the spawn of a bull’s right nut.”
“Why didn’t he just marry the other woman?”
“You mean why didn’t he get hitched to Cardi, short for Bacardi––”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She waves a finger around her face. “Does it look like I’m kidding?”
I chuckle. “Crap.”
“Cardi Ruffcorn––”
“Ruffcorn?” I shake my head. “Unbelievable.”
