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I pray I never break her trust. My relationship with God isn’t any easy one. I was an altar boy until I was seventeen. I was already doing shit a seventeen-year-old shouldn’t have to. But I wanted to live. I sinned during the week and repented on Sunday. At seventeen, I had already repeated the same sins so often I didn't feel my repentance was genuine anymore. I knew I would willingly repeat those sins again.
It started feeling more like I was asking God’s permission to sin rather than his forgiveness. It felt too hypocritical to continue being an altar boy. My parents understood since each boy becoming a man wrestled with the same thing. I’d seen Luca and Marco go through it. I saw it with Matteo too.
I have never wavered in my faith, and I believe Chellie coming into my life is proof that somehow God truly has the capacity to forgive. I believe in the Ten Commandments. I do believe I shouldn’t kill, but I do. I believe in the sacraments, and I pray one day I’m marrying Chellie and another day we’re watching our child be baptized.
I just can’t live the life of a good Christian, even if I wanted to. And I can be honest with God and myself. I don’t want to. If I did, I wouldn’t protect my family. And nothing is more important than family. And now that includes Chellie.
“Daddy, we’ve been up here a long time. People are going to wonder what we’re up to. They’ve probably guessed, but we’re being rude.”
“Whether they guessed we had sex or not, they know this conversation can’t be rushed. It takes each couple however long it takes them. They won’t fault us or begrudge us that.”
I help her off my lap, and we gather our clothes.
“Um, give me a moment.”
She glances toward the bathroom, and I nod. She dashes in, and I hear the water running. She’s back out a moment later, and we dress silently. When we get to the hallway, I slide my hand into hers. When will we have a lighthearted conversation again like we did at the coffee shop?
Ours are always so heavy now. But better to get all of this out in the open now because I told my family the truth. The fuck we’re letting the Kutsenkos take care of this. I don’t give a fuck how good their intentions are. No one is getting between Chellie and me and surviving.
ChapterTwelve
Chellie
I hold my head up and smile as we return to the living room. I’m embarrassed that anyone — especially Massimo and Nicoletta — should guess we had sex. Now, looking back, it seems grossly inappropriate. Both the time and the place. But I don’t regret it. I’ve never felt closer to a living soul than I did while making love to Enzo. I’m over thirty, so I’ve been in love before. Obviously, none of it lasted. Now I can look back and see I was too young for any of it to be serious enough for a lifelong commitment. I don’t think I’m too young now. In fact, I’ve never felt older than I do right now. The last three hours aged me.
Blessedly, the conversations don’t stop when we step into the room. People look over and smile, but no one’s staring. That would mortify me. The problem is, I don’t know where to sit. Do I join any of the conversations? Do I stay glued to Enzo?
“Michelle, come settle something between Gabe and me.”
I watch Sinead wave me over, and I’m not sure what to do. I mean, I know I should walk over there like a normal person. But I’m suddenly paralyzed and unsure if I can leave Enzo’s side. I hear him laugh as he nudges me but doesn’t let go of my hand.
“Gabe, admit your wife is right. Whatever she said is probably exactly what Chellie will say.”
Gabe glances at the parents in the room, and it looks like he’d say something to Enzo if they weren’t there. It makes me assume it would be something profane. That makes my lips twitch. Instead, Gabe focuses on me.
“Who was the hardest professor in law school?”
“Oh, that’s simple. Professor Sebastionson. Hands down.”
“Ha! I told you!”
Gabe crows as he points at Sinead. I look at her.
“Who did you think it was?”
Sinead grimaces before she answers.
“Professor Hughey.”
“Oh, she hated me.”
Now both Sinead and Gabe laugh, and Sinead responds.
“That woman hates everyone. She’s bitter that she has to teach Harvard’s castoffs because they wouldn’t hire her.”
“I didn’t even apply to Harvard, and neither did Laura. Neither of us wanted to go to law school with a bunch of insufferable twats. I had enough of them during undergrad.”
The laughter ceases, and Enzo, Sinead, and Gabe all turn to look at Massimo. Oh, fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Did he go there? Did he hear me?
