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‘I’ve known for ten years and you’ve known for less than ten hours. I know I’ve handled this badly, but please,pleasedon’t let me have messed up your new family, too.’
‘Family?’ She had no clue, and he didn’t even know what to tell her. It was more messed up than she knew.
‘Where are you?’ he asked.
‘At the airport,’ she lied, for she couldn’t yet bring herself to leave. ‘You?’
‘Driving.’
‘The birds are very loud, then. Are you at the cemetery?’
No, for he knew there was no solace there. He was at the river, which was as dry as he felt, but remembering what Reverend Mother had said about how sharp Alicia was did make him half smile, then it faded.
‘You cared for him, didn’t you?’
‘I did. And I’m sorry I couldn’t, well...’
‘You’re not expected to raise every Schininà.’
‘Dante, your baby was the easy part in the end. It was the other part... I wasn’t crazy about his father.’
‘I gathered that this morning.’
Even now he didn’t get she meant Guido rather than him, or perhaps it was time to simply accept he just didn’t want her love. ‘Dante, I was going to marry someone because I was told to. If I had done it I might have been a bit like Giustina when it came to Guido.’
Now he smiled. ‘You did the right thing,’ he said. ‘Well, that part at least.’
‘Dante, you were right. I did stop defending you.’
‘Leave it.’
‘No, I was upset when we stopped holding hands. I stuffed my bra, I flirted, I tried. And I thought there was something ugly about me because you never once... I was very jealous.’
‘I’m going to go,’ he said, ending the call.
He would write to her, Dante decided. Nicely, kindly, when he had sorted his head out, and tell her properly that it had all been him and not her.
Then he remembered that she couldn’t read.
What wasn’t made up or a lie?
Alicia’s suspicious mind had got one thing right at least, and maybe possibly two—she had known for ten years, and for him it wasn’t even ten hours.
Maybe tonight was not the best time to confront his father.
The thought of seeing his family was wearying, especially with what he now knew, and yet they were tied...contractually, at least.
Not for long.
Dinner, Dante decided, and then breakfast with Daddy Dearest tomorrow and a little talk about Roberto then.
It should be easier to think with her gone—except he kept thinking of them running through the rushes and him dropping her hand. And the wasted guilt because all the time she’d been trying it on.
They would talk, he decided, when his head was clearer.
He called the restaurant to say he was running late and returned home and let himself in—only to be reminded again that Alicia Domenica had lied.
‘You are kidding me?’
