Monte has been listening to the conversation. A subtle flash of sympathy tightens his mouth and then he starts raking a pizza cutter across the latest pie to leave the oven.
Uncle Sal returns to the front counter to help with a new wave of the lunch rush. I’m not really doing much good back here in the kitchen and I’m on my way to step out and give Cecilia a call when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I’m hoping it’s her. She never answered the text I sent hours ago.
But no, Tye is calling. He’s not one to call in the middle of the day for shits and giggles. I feel a prick of concern as I step out of Gino’s into the commotion of the city streets.
“Hey,” I say into the phone and take refuge in an access corridor to the residential apartments upstairs.
“How’s New York?” My brother’s voice is tense. Very unlike him.
“It’s still here. Are you taking good care of my wife?”
Tye’s long pause makes my stomach drop.
“What happened to Cecilia?” I’m suddenly panicked as I think back to her sad silence on the phone and her reluctance to text back.
Tye blows out a loud breath. “I really fucked up, Jul.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I ran my damn mouth too much yesterday at lunch. She got the wrong idea about Sabrina. Now Cecilia thinks you just settled for her as a consolation prize or something. I don’t know. She won’t let me explain how it was.”
“Bullshit,” I snap. “I never even met Sabrina until after she was married to Monte. And at the time I had no idea that Dad was playing matchmaker until it all blew up.”
“I know that. But now you might have a tough time convincing Cecilia.” He sighs again. “I’m truly sorry. I’d never do anything to hurt that girl. How can I fix it?”
He can’t fix it. I need to get back to Storm’s Eye Ranch and fix it myself. I’ll take my wife in my arms and tell her the truth.
I never agreed to marry anyone else. I neverwantedto marry anyone else.
Cecilia is everything I could ever desire in a woman and I’m constantly thanking my lucky stars that she’s mine.
We didn’t get where we are the conventional way, but what does that matter?
I meant every word of the vows I spoke to her.
“I’m sorry,” Tye says again.
Apologies aren’t routine for us. We handle disputes through force and fists. The fact that my brother keeps repeating his apology means he’s truly miserable. But it’s far more alarming that he believes Cecilia is miserable.
Silently, I’m cursing my father for setting this disaster in motion with his risky scheming. I’m cursing Vittorio Messina for derailing my honeymoon by showing up in New York. And while I’m at it, I might as well curse the entireCosa Nostrafor its unending grudges and vendettas. I’ll never surrender my seat at the Mafia table but it sure does come with a lot of fucking complications.
None of this will be said out loud, not even to Tye. He’s awaiting a response and I’ll choose my words with care, like I always do.
Maybe Cecilia is onto something with her therapeutic breathing techniques. Might as well give it a try.
However, all I get when I take a deep breath is the stale air of an old city building in summer.
It was a stupid idea anyway.
“I should have thought of this,” I say. “Cecilia is reasonable. I should have explained everything to her already. I’ll deal with it.”
“All right,” he says. “I’m guessing you can’t come home yet?”
“Nope. Just do your best to make my girl happy until I can get back there.”
“You know I will,” he replies. “Hell, even Getty feels bad about what went down.”
After I hang up with my brother, I lean against the wall and stare at the grid of locked silver mailboxes belonging to the building’s residents. Just as I run my thumb across my phone screen to call Cecilia, the arrival of a vehicle grabs my attention.
