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We’re eating in the formal dining room. I thought these affairs were more casual, but clearly today Bianca decided to go all white china and shit.
I’m wearing my jeans and T-shirt from the park outing with Annie, and even without the conversation in the car and my decision to end things I’m utterly uncomfortable.
London mimics Bianca’s fury and snaps the napkin open before placing it on her lap. Dominic, her boyfriend, taps her hand with his finger and she relaxes a bit.
I wonder if I’m the reason for Andrea’s absence.
“Andrea is sick,” Gio says.
“What’s wrong with him?” Bianca frowns. “He could have at least called.”
“Bianca, love.” Micah smiles at her from across the table. “Maybe you can enjoy the children we have here with us today.”
Her eyebrows jerk up. “You’re right, darling.” She returns his smile with such tenderness I wonder where the Bianca who just demanded answers went. The woman rules with an iron fist, and then melts at the sound of her husband.
Hot and cold. Just like her son. I decide to observe her a bit more during the lunch to draw the parallels. To discover more about the man who has been closed off for months. Not sure why I bother, since I won’t keep up this charade beyond this meal.
I play with my food while Massi updates everyone on Gina and their baby girl. I wish my friend was here, so I wouldn’t feel this lonely. London and Paris dote on their father. I would enjoy the family dynamics if I wasn’t so exhausted from pretending, and having my heart destroyed in the process.
“So, when is the wedding?” Bianca’s question carries across the table, and I look up. Unfortunately, it’s addressed to us. Gio tenses beside me. I return my stare to my plate, hoping the floor will swallow me.
The clang of the cutlery around us stills. I can’t be sure, but I think all eyes are on us. Heat creeps up my neck.
Gio takes my hand and I almost gasp. He kisses my knuckles. He doesn’t let go as he leans back. “In one month. We’re getting married on July fifteenth at Lake Como.”
Chapter30
Mila
“We’ll be leaving in the next few days. You’re welcome to arrive as you please and use the house, but of course we expect you there for the fifteenth.”
Gio’s announcement causes a wave of excitement around the table. My heart thumps in my head, drowning all other sounds. I look at Gio who is talking, probably answering the questions coming from all directions. He keeps my hand in his.
To make sure I don’t run? To give me support? To apologize for ambushing me with his announcement?
How am I going to break up with him now? Why did he just set the date? Without even consulting me?
I’m so conflicted about it all. As if the last few months didn’t happen, hope blooms in my chest. The joy is tainted as I remind myself this is nothing. This is not real. He probably just caved in to please his mother and stop the questions.
The people-pleaser in me is defeated. Being engaged indefinitely was one thing. Getting married feels like a bigger commitment.
How do I get out of this?
Especially since a part of me doesn’t want to.
“Mila, I can’t believe you let him talk you into Como.” London shakes her head. “He goes there every year and works. Calling it vacation.” She deadpans. “Don’t you want to go somewhere special?”
Yes, I do. I also want him to want to marry me. Not out of obligation, or because he needs a wife. But because he needs me. In that moment, for some outlandish reason, I decide to give this one last try. If not for myself, then for Annie.
“Actually, I’m thrilled about the location.” I squeeze Gio’s hand and smile. “He’s told me so much about it, I feel like I love the place through his eyes already.”
He never has, and maybe I’m so used to the charade I deliver the perfect line. Our eyes lock, and the soft gaze I haven’t seen in so many months warms his face, a smile lingering.
We stare at each other, a silent communication, or in our case probably a lot of miscommunication, passing between us.
Maybe, just maybe, Como can be our new beginning. Our remake of St. Martin.
* * *
