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“It’s six years old. You’ll also need room for baby stuff.”
“Fine, I’ll get a new one when I need room.” We pull into the driveaway. Checking my alarm, I have twenty minutes before Nonna is due to be woken. “I’m going to change.”
I’m not sure if Nonna wants to eat here or go out for dinner, so I change into a maxi skirt and stretchy pink long-sleeve shirt that could be acceptable for going out for dinner. Like a baby I hide in the bedroom until the alarm goes off.
When I knock on Nonna’s door it takes a few minutes before she answers back she’s awake, to give her a few minutes and she’ll be down.
Putting off going downstairs, I escape into one of the spare bedrooms. Of the four bedrooms on this floor only two have beds, Nonna’s and this one. For now the others are empty, as we want to use them while the babies are little. That was the plan. Is it still the plan?
Leaning my head against the window, I study the backyard. What are we doing? Am I supposed to say I’m sorry for the hundredth time, and what am I supposed to be sorry for? Does he even know how to say the word, and if he doesn’t do I shrug and move on, or do I hold out for something I’m not going to get? I remember Bethany saying once you can choose to be right or you can choose to be married. This isn’t about being right; it’s about the fact he’s chosen other people and money as more important than me. Is this what I get for agreeing to a marriage that was a bargain, an exchange of money for kids, even if it’s not what I said yes to? I said yes to the man, the forever with him, and hopefully yes we have kids and fifty years, not just two kids and ten years. Did I screw up by not holding out for the real thing? It feels like it.
“Chloe?”
I turn to find Nonna in the hallway. “Hi, I was just checking out the landscaping. I think we need to get someone in to cut back the side.”
“Oh my goodness, he does honor you.” Nonna grabs my hand. “Beautiful.”
Unable to meet her eyes, I only nod. Nonna studies me. “Are you happy?”
My nod doesn’t make it far, then it just comes out in a flood of tears. Nonna doesn’t allow me to cry for long; her words are stern as she shoots me question after question. Then she’s quiet for a long time. “Love, it’s never easy. Lorenzo, for an intelligent man, is stupid when it comes to love. It will take time and patience for him to accept he can love without losing anything. And you,” Nonna waves her finger at me, “you don’t get love if you don’t give it freely, without any terms and conditions. You both have far to go, but as long as you don’t give up, you’ll be fine. Now, I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”
Following in a daze, I’m hoping she’s right but wondering what I’m supposed to do. We go out to eat at a Mexican restaurant that catches Nonna’s eye. Over the next few hours Nonna grills Enzo on everything from his grades in school to whether or not his company cares about the environment. He takes it all in stride without once showing annoyance. Although when Nonna yawns, I see his shoulders sag a little.
Nonna is sipping tea, a habit of hers before she goes to bed. Cetta is curled up in her lap. Pepe is laying on my feet. Stroking Cetta, Nonna nods at Enzo. “Good, very good. I love how you two speak Italian at home with each other. That’s good for the babies. You will raise them on Italian first.”
“I love how your question isn’t a question. Yes, Nonna. It’s how Enzo was raised and how his brothers are raising their children, so they’ll have their cousins to speak with as well.”
“That’s good for them, it makes them smarter. So good, a bunch of Sabatini children all playing together, good good.”
I try to swallow the words, but surprise won’t let them stay down. How could she think I wouldn’t honor her name? “Nonna, I want my children to have your name.”
Nonna blinks wide. “Why would you do that? They are not my children. They are yours and Lorenzo’s; they should have their father’s name.”
Fuck, I forgot how old-fashioned she could be. “I’m not changing my name, I want my children to have my name.”
“Chloe, when you marry Lorenzo you become a family whether you have children or not. When you have children your family becomes stronger. Families have the same last name.”
Sighing. “Nonna, you can still be a family without having the same last name.”
“No, Chloe, you cannot. You honor your husband and your children when you are all as one.” Shaking her head, she sighs. “All these young people wanting to keep their names, wanting to stay who they are don’t understand that yes, you change. You become his wife and he becomes your husband; you change together and you become one. If you are more interested in staying yourself then you should stay by yourself, because change is inevitable when you marry.”
Her words sting, and I shake my head. I don’t want to argue with her, can’t even think of a way to defend my stance.
She sets her cup down with a clink. “I’m going up to bed. Goodnight.”
Head down, I consider her words, wondering if she’s right, wondering if I’m ready to change my mind. The clinking of the cup against the saucer brings my head up, Enzo is carrying them into the kitchen. When he comes back in from the kitchen, he nods at me. “I’ll be working for a little while in my office.”
Before I even have a chance to answer he’s gone. After sitting for a while in misery, I go upstairs. The bedroom is huge, the bed is a California king set up high off the floor. Cetta and Pepe don’t even bother coming upstairs, they prefer hanging out in the sunroom to watch out the windows. There is one large walk-in closet that runs the length of the room with two doors, one on my side and another on Enzo’s side of the bed. Enzo complained when he had Ray make it because he admitted he’d never shared a closet so small with anyone before. I thought he was joking because he had more than enough clothes at the condo, only the amount of clothes tripled when we moved in. He took up almost seventy-five percent of the room, including the large island in the middle. He promised to talk to Karen about paring down his suits, even though he was trying to get back into some he’d grown out of by putting on more muscle.
On my side of the room is the vanity I brought from my place. Even though the bathroom is large, there isn’t enough room. On Enzo’s side is a small table with a chair in case he wants to work without going down to his office. Before we moved in we had a security company come in to install the internet. I thought it was a mistake, I was prepared that we would have the whole security set up, but to have them install the internet, I was surprised. I joked with the guy we would have Department of Defense internet security, and the buff, tattooed man scoffed and said the DOD wished they had this level of security. Then he took five minutes to explain what could happen without the firewalls, physical and online, and scared the hell out of me.
Getting ready for bed, for the
first time in weeks I put on a nightgown. It’s the nicest one I have, something Nonna bought me years ago but I never wore. After braiding my hair I climb onto the bed, having to use the stepstool that came free with it. It’s a brand-new bed, I remember picking it out with Enzo, how he picked me up to put me up on each one. How he wiggled his eyebrows at me as he bounced on the bed. Was it really only two weeks ago?
Lying in bed, I think of what Nonna said; she was right. She’s always right. If I want this to succeed, I have to be willing to try too. I promise myself I’ll stay awake and make the first move when Enzo comes to bed. Only I fall asleep before Enzo comes to bed, giving in to sleep a little after one in the morning.
When the alarm goes off I smack the clock with anger. Sitting up, I check Enzo’s side. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or not to see he at least came to bed. I’m supposed to have the day off to spend with Nonna, but I guess Enzo didn’t know that because I didn’t set my alarm, he did. It’s supposed to be the little things, right? So how the hell did he spend all night in bed with me and not touch me?
