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“And may I introduce you to the lights of my life, my daughters Leah and Hannah?” Mayor Romney says, gesturing to the two giggling girls who stand in the doorway to the living room, their hands cupped secretively over their mouths as they lean close to whisper.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Leah and Hannah,” I say, holding back a soft laugh. I’ve only just met the girls, but already they remind me of my sisters Anna and Vienna when they were younger, they way they used to constantly whisper in each other’s ears. They’ve grown past that stage now, but these girls appear to be right around six or seven years old.
“I like your shoes,” Leah says shyly, pointing at my black satin peep-toes with a bejeweled bow at the center of the front.
“Why, thank you.” I twist and turn to show the girls every glittering angle, and they giggle once more.
“Are you a princess?” Hannah asks, and this time, I do laugh as she says it with such sincerity.
“No, I’m not a princess. Do I look like one?” I pat my head as if in search of a crown.
“Yeah, Princess Jasmine,” she says confidently, and it melts my heart.
Mayor Romney chuckles as he places his hands on his hips. “They’re going through a Disney phase,” he explains.
“Don’t we all?” I joke, matching his grin.
“Shall we eat?” Signora Romney asks, gesturing to the dining room. “I believe dinner is ready.”
The girls lead the way, Hannah grasping my fingers to pull me along behind her, and Leo’s palm leaves the small of my back as he follows last, alongside the mayor. It’s a shuffle of chairs as we all settle in, the girls arguing over who gets to sit on the one side of me after I settle in beside Leo.
“I think I might quickly get booted to the curb for failing to show my wife the appropriate amount of attention and awe now that I’ve seen how it’s done properly,” Leo jokes after Signora Romney scolds her daughters lightly to pick a seat and calm down.
Mayor Romney chuckles. “I feel ousted. Normally, I’m the one who gets fought over.”
“Thank you for having us over,” I say. “It was a wonderful surprise.”
“We just wanted to congratulate you two properly. After getting to speak with you at the engagement party, Alicia and I have been talking about how little we know you and your families, though you have such deep roots in Piovosa. And you seem like such a charming couple. We hoped we might get to know you better,” Mayor Romney says.
Then, he reaches for a bottle of red wine. “Can I interest anyone in a drink?” he offers, gesturing to my wine glass.
Heat radiates through my body as I find myself caught between a rock and a hard place. I don’t want to drink and potentially endanger the baby, but I can’t come right out and say that after Leo and I have only been married for three days.
“Actually, Mayor Romney—”
“Please, call me Luke and my wife Alicia,” he insists, cutting me off as if he’s shocked he hasn’t already told me to do so.
I smile, taking a moment to recenter myself as that brief interruption bought me the time I need. “Thank you, Luke. But believe it or not, I’m not quite of drinking age, so I’ll have to pass. I couldn’t possibly accept a drink underage from the mayor himself!”
He chuckles, placing a hand apologetically over his heart. “Forgive me, my dear. You’re so mature; I didn’t give it a second thought. I appreciate your consideration—and honesty.”
My stomach knots at the slight I know he didn’t mean in the least because he couldn’t possibly know my real motivation for turning down the drink.
“And you, Leo?”
“I’m definitely of age,” he jokes, extending his wine glass.
But as he retrieves it with a healthy pour of crimson liquid, his eyes turn to me with a look of respect for having covered my predicament smoothly. The conversation is light and lively as I put on my best performance to prove my worth to Leo.
And though I haven’t quite figured out what Leo’s particular interest in Mayor Romney could be, conversing with the mayor and his family comes surprisingly easy. Because they’re positively charming.
After a light salad starter, the main course arrives shortly, and I lean back in my chair to allow the serving staff to set the beautifully prepared plate of veal parmesan before me.
In an instant, the warm and wonderful atmosphere of the evening turns, as the smell of the meat hits my nose. Nausea hits me with overwhelming force, and though most of my bouts of morning sickness have come earlier in the day, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’m facing a heavy dose of it, triggered by a smell I once would have savored.
Bolting up out of my chair, I nearly slam into the server behind me in my desperation to escape the smell, and I cover my mouth and nose to try and help.
“Tia?” Leo’s voice is tinged with concern, but I don’t even have time to look at him.
