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I decide it’s a risk worth taking.
“His name is Michael Luciano,” I say.
Recognition of the name seems to register in his eyes and his face hardens. “I’m in,” he says.
I smile. Turns out I’m more gangster than I thought. More than a match for Luciano. Maybe my luck is finally turning.
“Same again?” I ask, gesturing to his empty bottle and shot glass.
Seventeen
CECELIA
It’s been a few days since our disastrous meeting with Papa and the air when we’ve both been at home has been decidedly frosty, despite the sunny weather. Whenever Papa and I have had disagreements in the past, Micah has acted as a band-aid, healing us with our mutual, bottomless love for him, making us laugh and bringing us together to play games or watch movies or be the rapt audience for his impromptu superhero performances. But now all Micah wants to talk about is Michael, which results in Papa sighing heavily and retreating to his office, alone, even at mealtimes. I don’t want to defy or disrespect Papa, but we can’t go on like this. It’s making us all so unhappy, and Michael and I want to start our lives together properly.
I’ve asked Connie to collect Micah from school again today and then Michael and I are going to try to talk to Papa, with Micah this time. We’re going to sit him down and show him how much love we have for each other, prove that we’re a proper family worthy of his blessing. Michael hasn’t officially proposed yet, but I know he will. We just need to convince Papa and then our lives will be perfect.
Michael parks the car and we walk up the front path holding hands. We’ve talked this over a million times, and we’ve got our speeches prepared. I just pray that Papa is prepared to listen today.
“Hello, Maria, is Papa home yet?” I ask as our maid opens the door to us before we’ve even reached the threshold.
“He should be here shortly, Miss Cecelia. I was expecting Miss Connie and young Micah now.”
“Oh, aren’t they back yet?”
“Not yet,” she says. “Perhaps they stopped for ice cream again?”
I frown as Michael and I walk into the hallway.
“Hmm, maybe. Thank you, Maria.” She retreats to the kitchen, and I turn to Michael.
“Connie knows what we’ve got planned today. I asked her to bring Micah straight home.”
He strokes my cheek gently and although I’m grateful for the calming gesture, it doesn’t have the desired effect this time.
“You know how persuasive our son can be, especially where ice cream is concerned,” he says with a reassuring smile. “Remember that day we found them on the bench a few streets from the school? I bet they’ve done that again.”
I bite my lip, wondering if that is what’s holding them up or whether Connie accidentally let slip to Papa about this chat and he’s ordered her to delay bringing Micah home so he can spare his grandson witnessing his rage. I sigh. If that was the case, surely Connie would have messaged me, apologetic but truthful. We don’t have any secrets between us. I check my phone; she hasn’t.
“I’ll ring her, make sure they’re on their way,” I say, sounding more cheerful than I feel.
We walk through to the kitchen as I dial Connie and wait for her to pick up. After a few rings, it goes to voicemail. I try again straight away and get the same result.
“That’s odd,” I say as I join Michael at the kitchen table overlooking the back garden. Maria is bustling about making coffees for us and preparing Micah’s after school snack. “Straight to voicemail.” I ring her a third time and leave a message, asking her to call me urgently. I’m anxious enough about speaking to Papa, never mind worrying about Connie being late home too.
Michael must sense my unease because he asks, “Shall we go and collect them in the car? It might be better if I move it anyway, so that your father doesn’t see it when he gets here.”
Before I get the chance to answer, Papa does.
“I’ve already seen it,” he says from the doorway, wearing the most thunderous expression I’ve ever seen.
Maria raises her eyebrows and excuses herself, abandoning the coffees and slipping quickly past my father.
Michael and I both stand and speak at the same time.
“Papa…”
“Mr. DeMarco…”
