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I choke on the liquid, taken aback by the question. I never thought anyone would actually ask something like that out loud. Least of all, a child.
I’m not sure why I’m surprised, though…
Aria didn’t seem like the type to raise button-up square children. And whatever they were, I could tell they weren’t that.
“I wouldn’t…” I cough. “I wouldn’t put it that way…”
“How would you put it, then?” The other twin boy asks. I believe Aria said his name was Mattia when she was introducing everyone — one at a time, around the table.
“Make love to it!?” Emma jokes.
“My, my, my, Reginald Anthony….” Guilia says dreamily, in a theatrical sort of tone, like she’s feigning a rendition of a romantic play or something… It's clever, really, but I can tell Aria isn’t amused. “Would you make love to me on this fateful day!? Take me and make me yours!” Guilia’s arms dart outward as if she's grabbing someone and then she draws them close to her like she's embracing. I can't help but laugh…
They're colorful.
I’ll give them that.
“That’s enough..." Aria demands through gritted teeth.
They all cackle in laughter.
Tomasso’s chewing is loud and he continues to stare a hole through me. Obnoxiously honing in on me, as if he’s sizing me up.… I watch as Aria cringes with every intentional movement of his jaw, her eyes closed with disgust. The wet clicks of his mouth masticating the pizza is basically vibrating the walls; it's so loud. I wonder why she doesn’t stop it. She clutches her knife tightly in the palm of her hand. Tight. Like she’s choking it.
He’s staring at me with everything he has.
He has to be.
I can’t imagine a kid having anymore of a snaring stare than this one right here.
He’s a little larger in width than his twin brother, broad and muscular, like he plays football… but otherwise looks the same. Both boys have chestnut brown hair. Tamasso’s a little longer and heavier than his brothers. His hair is just enough to fall into his eyes. His blue piercing eyes. All the kids around the table have those same eyes. They remind me of mine…
The boys had angular jaws, chiseled and strong. Masculine and mature. If I’d looked like that when I was a kid, I would have been in even more trouble.
I probably would have been chugging a beer I’d just bought at the corner store right at the dinner table in front of my mom. I’d think I was King Shit. And sure, the kids had their personalities, and were smartasses like teenagers tend to be, but none of them seemed like bad kids.
“Yes, ma’am…” Tamasso says when Aria finally snaps at his obnoxious eating habit.
“Mom,” Guilia, the more vocal of the girls. “Does your boyfriend talk?”
I chuckle before taking a hungered bite of my pizza. I haven’t eaten all day and being interrogated by a bunch of toddlers was definitely enough to work up a harsh appetite.
“Sorry,” I apologize. “I just … was taking it all in…”
Aria and I have been sneaking around for a couple weeks. Luigi had almost caught us in the maintenance closet of the club. A couple of chefs had almost caught us in the kitchen, after hours.
I never imagined out of everyone, a couple of kids would have caught us.
“So, what’s your intentions?” Mattia asks, sternly, although his face betrays him. He tries to look serious. Concerned. Maybe even a little protective, but a smile keeps tugging at his cheeks, his dimples blaring out.
Although the question was meant to be light, the truth of the matter is, I have no idea what my intentions are. I can’t believe I’ve let it get as far as I have.
I can’t believe I slept with her in the first place.
Let alone am sitting here, sharing pizza with her kids.
I’m supposed to kill her.
I’m supposed to take her out without a tinge of remorse in my body so that my mom, and the rest of the Giordio family are able to swoop in and take Chicago by the reigns.
