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Salvatore offers me a sympathetic look. He witnessed a number of arguments between Fausto Terlizzi and me over my wife’s infertility. I’ll never forget the day that I told Fausto my wife had stage IV cancer and would most likely die within the year. He looked me dead in the eyes and said, ‘Good. Maybe the next one will give you a son.’ As if Caterina’s life was useless because she couldn’t bear my children.
“But you never fucked around on her.” Salvatore derails my train of thought. “You were faithful to Cat. Even when she was on her deathbed and looking at her final days, you didn’t find a mistress or ask Father to start looking for a second wife. You took care of Caterina until she was in the ground.”
My brother’s characterization of me is humbling. I don’t remember being the man that he says I was. I know that I faithfully waited for my wife to pass, but it wasn’t out of any loyalty to her or our union. I took care of Caterina in her final days because it was expected of me.
Christine was in the house, watching her mother die, and she needed someone to be strong for her. She needed someone to take care of her mother while she was in school all day. She needed someone to sign permission slips and listen to her boy drama because she was only a teenager. Christine wasn’t old enough to do all the things I did for Caterina, so I did them for her.
“I’ve loved her for years,” I mumble, a frown furrowing my brow.
Salvatore looks around as if searching for the person I’m speaking to. “What are you going on about?”
“Christine.”
He throws his hands up in defeat before sinking back into the couch. “This again,” he complains.
This again, indeed. “I’ve loved Christine for years, Sal. You said that love is supposed to be easy, and it was. I wasn’tinlove with her when she was fifteen,” I explain, “but everything I did for her and Caterina in those last few months was because I loved her.” The kind of love that grew and transformed with time.
“Okay. So maybe you love the girl,” Salvatore allows. “But you’re notinlove with her.”
I shake my head in disagreement as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “No. You’re wrong. I wasn’t in love with her back then, but I am now. That’s why her spurning my invitation to spend Thanksgiving with the family hurts. Because Iamin love with her.”
Salvatore sighs in disgust. “You’re hopeless, you know that? Just give the girl up, Nic.”
“I can’t,” I tell him. “I don’t even wish I could.”
Maybe my brother is right. Maybe the only reason I fell for Christine is because we lived together for the last five years. But I don’t care how it happened; I’m just thankful it did.
Christine is my soulmate. And it took an arranged marriage to her mother, the passing of my wife, and three more years of forced proximity to realize it.
Chapter 17
Christine
Between an endless stream of invitations to Terlizzi Thanksgiving festivities and my uncles trying to convince me to come to Kansas City, I’m burned out on family gatherings.
I’m also tired of studying for finals, which are approaching so fast that I nearly forget what I spent the first half of the semester learning.
The Psychology book I borrowed from Niccolo’s library remains open on my bed with highlighted sections and notes in the margins. Bright yellow tabs crease and mark the pages, reminding me of something I found important earlier in the semester. I squint my eyes to make sense of my hurried scribbles, but my brain is too drained to comprehend them.
“I’m headed out,” Kaye announces as she tosses a bag over her shoulder.
I look up from my scattered notes, the corners of my mind still foggy from hours of intense studying. Blinking, I try to reorient myself to the present moment and my surroundings.My confusion only deepens as I take in her appearance—fully dressed and ready to go while I’m still in my pajamas. “You’re going somewhere?”
“To my mom’s,” she says, as if reminding me of something she told me before.
“I thought we were going to the foam party at Red Dawg tonight.” It’s absurd to think she can’t do both, but it’s the first thing that pops into my head. I’ve been having a rough go of things lately, and I need tonight to carry me through the rest of the holiday season.
Kaye gives me a wan smile. “We will,” she says hesitantly, “but it’s been a few weeks since Mom asked Malcolm to move out.” I realize with a pang of guilt that I’ve been so consumed by my problems that I’d forgotten about hers.
“She said she was feeling lonely and wanted some company,” Kaye continues. “I’m sure if I asked, you could come, too!”
Going to Carrie’s doesn’t sound particularly exciting, but I can’t bear another minute of reading these dry textbooks. My vision is blurring, and my brain feels like it’s on the verge of shutting down from information overload. “I’m in. You think she’ll make those snickerdoodle cookies I like so much?”
My best friend rolls her eyes before offering me a knowing look. I’ve been complaining about forced family time for the last week, but I conveniently don’t mind seeing her family. “Do you want to admit that it isn’tfamilyyou want to avoid?” Kaye asks with a raised eyebrow.
I’ve been dropping hints here and there about what’s been going on between stepfather and me, almost as many hints as she’s been dropping about her and Xavier. But when she pulls on herknow-it-all tone, I turn away and pretend I have no idea what she means. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I respond with an air of superiority.
She snorts in derision before coaxing me to tell her more. “Come on, Chris. Just admit that you’re trying to avoid Nic. No one is going to hold it against you.”
