“It’s really okay,” I tell her. “It’s actually probably for the best. The OBGYN said it wasn’t a good idea for me to travel long distances, so we’ll have to raincheck it anyway.”
I am purposely not mentioning Dante’s shit fit from earlier, because I don’t need to give my big sister any more reasons to think my husband isn’t treating me right. And since Charlie has no idea what’s going on with the Bellantis and the unknown threat, his reaction will just seem overblown and controlling.
“Oh, um, yeah. We can totally raincheck,” Charlie says, but I can hear the disappointment in her voice. “I understand.”
“Sorry. But I promise, we’ll go away and do something really fun as soon as we can.”
“Yeah, sounds great. Unless…” There’s a pause. “Okay, how about this? Meet me at the tennis court at seven tonight. Bring your favorite bathrobe. Oh, and make sure you come hungry. Now that you can actually eat without tossing everything right back up.”
My sister sounds so chipper, and I want to say yes, but I need to make sure we’ll be safe.
“We won’t be leaving the winery, right?” I ask. “I kinda want to stay on the property.”
“Not a problem—we won’t go far. And this time I won’t tell Clayton, so he can’t ruin it. It’ll just be me and you, on Bellanti property, having ourselves a secret girls’ night.”
I nearly agree, but hesitate again. My nerves are overwhelming me. But if we stay on the grounds, the guards won’t be far away. What’s the worst that could happen?
“Okay,” I relent. “See you at the tennis court at seven.”
“Yay!”
We hang up and I enter the lobby of the Bellanti offices. It feels chillier in here than before. Probably because I’m immensely irritated with my husband and the chill is following me around. I say hi to Ruby when I see her in the break room and then make my way to Dante’s office, but he’s not there when I peek inside. The light is off, his laptop gone. The scent of his cologne doesn’t linger in the hall. Wherever her went, he went a while ago.
Fine then.
I’m not in a hurry for another fight. It’s one step forward, eight steps back with him. Besides, if I can avoid him until it’s time to meet my sister, then he won’t have a chance to ruin it.
He’s already ruined enough of my day.
22
Frankie
Dante comesdown the stairs and finds me sulking in the living room, sipping tea and binge-watchingThe Queen’s Gambitagain. I know what he wants, but he’s not going to get it.
“Dinner’s ready,” he says dispassionately. “We’re already late.”
“I’m going to skip tonight,” I tell him, keeping my eyes glued to the screen.
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“Tell that to my stomach,” I snap. “I don’t feel like throwing up roast beef and baby reds, thanks.”
I take the opportunity to slurp my tea loudly, but he doesn’t budge from the doorway.
“I thought you’d been feeling better,” he says.
Side-eyeing him, I say, “It’s hit or miss. Some days are better than others.”
That’s not completely an untruth. His posture seems to relax a little.
“I can have some broth and crackers brought to the table for you,” he suggests. “You should at least eat something.”
“No. I’m going to lie down.”
With that, I click off the TV and walk past him to the stairs. On my way up, I see him turn into the dining room without another word. Just as well.
In our room, I pack a small bag and then write a note to leave on the desk for Dante. It says I’m going out for a little while and that I’ll be FINE. I also promise to be back before midnight. He’ll be pissed, I’m certain, but hopefully he won’t worry too much.
