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“Yes, he made those, I told you he is talented,” she smiles proudly.
Great. Not only does he have people. He has spectacular talent, and what do I have? I have absolutely no talent in me.
“I'll show you some of the ones he made for me,” she smiles some more, “I have them in my room.”
I nod, trying my best not to make my sad smile any sadder than it might be looking, and begin to eat, busying myself with something that at least I know I can do efficiently.
My phone chimes beside me and I pick it up to look at the screen.
Carlos: Will you be coming to the wedding?
The same wedding my circle of friends won't stop posting about.
Romano and Giada are getting married. The wedding of the year, they tagged it.
I exhale and drop the phone back on the bed.
Is it even a question? I cheated on Romano and he is the reason I'm in this pile of shit, entangled with all the worst men in the world. How does anyone expect Romano to let me into his wedding?
I'm happy for Romano and Giada. I'm happy they found each other. But I know I'm not welcome there. The only way I'd be able to make it to that wedding is if I get to tag along with someone who is already on the guest list.
My family didn't get any official invitation and that says a lot about how much of a mess the scandal still has us in. People find it so difficult to move on from gossip, but they can easily dismiss the truth.
I pause and think about it again. I never asked my father if he got an official invitation.
I sit straighter.
If he did, it would mean we are forgiven and can go back to New York.
Hope brews in my stomach and I gobble my food so I can go ask him about it. Even if he didn’t want to attend, knowing myfather, he would. But even if he decided to, assume he could muster up some shame, it would not change the fact that he got invited.
I can go back home.
I would have nothing keeping me here. Nothing to make me feel like I need to keep bending to the command of everyone. I drink down my glass of water next and swallow the vitamin C Evelyn has always attached to my meal since the incident with Benedetto.
“Have you seen my father?” I stand.
“He should be in his room, I haven't seen him since he retired there after breakfast,” Evelyn stands and takes the cart.
I pick up my phone and dump it in the pocket of my wrap dress. “Thank you,” I say and head for the door “I loved the food.”
She chuckles, “It seems to me, you only say you love the food when Benedetto makes it.”
I spin to her, “He made this food?”
“Not for you, he just made it and I thought you might enjoy it,” she drives the cart past me and opens the door.
“Oh,” I gulp, not sure how I feel about him making the food and especially about knowing he didn't make it for me. He is hell-bent on keeping his distance then, which is good.
A good thing for me especially.
I walk out after her and take happy hopeful steps down the stairs to the second floor. My father and Lawrence have been staying there, close to their new buddy, Claudio. I'm not complaining. I like the fact that I never see them except when called upon.
I trot down the hallway to the last room on my left, which is my father’s room.
“Dad,” I knock on the door and without much pressure, it opens slightly. As if it wasn't locked, “Dad?” I scan his room to find him on the bed, with what looks like a newspaper article covering his face.
I suck my teeth, not wanting to bother him with something that can be asked when he is not sleeping. Especially seeing how deeply asleep and peaceful he is, so much so that he is not snoring like an oncoming train as he usually does.
