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“You’re welcome.”
I drop my leg, and he allows it to slide through his palms as though he doesn’t want to pull away first. When my foot lands on the concrete again, he studies the paper and picks up the pen.
“It’s been great being your husband, though I would’ve liked more benefits.” One corner of his lips tip up as he poises the pen over the paper.
“Wait!” I say, panic flaring up and out my throat before I can stop myself. He looks up, forehead wrinkled, and I tear off a piece of my croissant and hold it up in front of his mouth. “My last wifely duty.”
His lips open, and I place the flaky pastry into his mouth. He chews and swallows while his eyes devour me. I place my hands in my lap and wait until he’s finished. I’d like to seal this annulment with a kiss, but that’s not a good route to go. It’ll end up being a quickie before Sunday dinner.
“I always do love the sweets,” he says. “Thanks.”
I shrug as though it’s the least I could do. Then the pen meets the paper and all the fluttering in my stomach stops.
He signs and slides the papers over to me. “There you go. You’re a free woman.”
I take the pen and sign my name before I can do anything stupid, then I shove the papers into my purse.
“I better go.” Dom stands, grabs a twenty from his pocket as though he knew he’d want a fast getaway, and throws it on the table. “Bye, Valentina.”
Before I can say anything, he crosses the street. I watch as he disappears around the corner toward his parents’ house. And just like that, Dominic Mancini is out of my life again.
* * *
“Ma!”I announce myself as I step into my parents’ house.
She peeks out of the kitchen. “Don’t take off your shoes.”
“I brought the bread.” I slide out of my sandals and place the bread on the dining room table.
My parents’ apartment never changes—the plethora of Italian flags, the cross above the front door, the pictures of my grandparents and ancestors filling the wall. And of course, a shrine to their only daughter.
“Why you take your shoes off?” Ma walks out and kisses me on either cheek. Her apron is off and she’s putting on her shoes. I’m not sure what’s going on.
“Where’s Dad?”
She waves me off. “We have to pick some food up that I ordered.”
She “ordered?” I stand in place, not understanding. Ma doesn’t order food.
“Why would you order?” I ask.
She shrugs on a jacket because the woman is five-two, thin as a rail, and feels cold in ninety-degree weather.
“You don’t need a coat,” I say.
“Air-conditioning.” She practically jogs over to the table to grab her purse.
“Ma?”
She stops and looks over her shoulder at me. “What? Come. You were late.”
I glance at our, you guessed it, Italian clock. I took the long way here because I needed a minute to digest the fact that I had annulment papers in my purse. I always thought if Dom and I did marry, he’d be my forever. Even so, the clock tells me I’m still not late. What has Ma so rattled?
“Where’s everyone? Dad? I don’t smell food.”
“I told you, I order.” She opens the front door and waves for me to go through.
“I’m not leaving until you explain what’s happening.”
