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Fortunately, I’m too preoccupied with the upcoming family dinner to think too much about Emma for the remainder of the day, and the next. Dinner as a family was a tradition that our father insisted on—every Sunday, regardless of what else might be going on in our lives, he made sure that we all gathered at the Campano mansion to eat a meal together. As children, no matter our schedules or his business obligations, he never missed a Sunday dinner. As adults, we were expected to keep our Sunday nights free for family.
After he passed away, we no longer kept the tradition ofeverySunday. But we made a tradition of our own—one Sunday a month, we all get together at the mansion for dinner. Even our little sister, Aida, makes her way home from the college campus to make sure she doesn’t miss the family meal that we’ve kept going.
Lorenzo and Carmine still live at the mansion, although Lorenzo has his own separate apartment as well, for when he wants time away from our younger brother. Our mother passed away when I was in high school, and since then, our housekeeper, Annette, has kept an eye on things—Carmine especially. She’s worked for the Campano family since before I was born, and she’s more of an honorary aunt than a staff member at this point.
As the head of the family now, it usually falls to me to organize the monthly dinner. I focus on that—on talking to Annette about the menu and making sure that Aida can make it, instead of thinking about Emma. I text her once, to set up another session at the end of the week, and I get a short response back.
That works for me. I’ll put it in my schedule.
There’s nothing else. If it weren’t for our last conversation, it would seem strange, after those intimate moments on the beach. After everything she told me.
But I know how hard she’s trying not to let me in. And there’s something else she’s not telling me, too—something that she’s probably afraid she’ll let slip, if she gets too close.
The problem is that I’m not sure I’m willing to let her slip away.
Lorenzo is there when I arrive for dinner, an hour before it’s supposed to be served. I find him in the smaller living room with Aida, a drink in his hand, quietly chatting with our younger sister. They both look up as I walk in, and Aida bounces up off of the sofa in an instant, hurrying towards me to throw her arms around my neck.
“I missed you!” she crows, squeezing me hard enough to make me choke before she steps back. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“It’s only been a month,” I tell her teasingly, but inwardly, it warms me to know that she missed me so much. Aida has always been the sweetest of our family, a bright ray of sunshine even when things seem dark. Like Carmine, I do my best to keep her out of the darkest parts of the life we were born into. It’s her, as much as anything else, that makes me determined to do things differently than the Family might want, to break us free from the old ways. I refuse to see my sunshiny little sister married off to someone for power and wealth, simply because she was born a woman. It’s not a fate I’ll accept for myself, and I won’t accept it for anyone else in our family, either.
“It felt like forever,” she declares, retreating back to the sofa. She’s dressed in slim black capri dress pants with a dark red sleeveless top, her sable-colored hair pulled up in a high ponytail, and her lips matching her blouse. She still looks casual next to Lorenzo, who is wearing a suit despite the fact that we hardly stand on formality here. I opted for light wool trousers and a button-down with the sleeves rolled up.
“Well, we can all catch up over dinner. Where’s Carmine?”
Lorenzo’s mouth turns down slightly. “I texted him an hour ago, and still nothing. He better not have blown us off.” His jaw tightens, and I can see Lorenzo’s irritation with our brother running through him like an electric current. Out of all of us, Lorenzo has the least patience with Carmine.
“Maybe he just forgot,” Aida says breezily, waving a hand. She and Carmine are only a year apart, and thick as thieves. She’d excuse the devil for most things, but Carmine more than most.
“That wouldn’t be an excuse.” Lorenzo stands up, slipping his phone out of his pocket. “I’m going to call him.”
I sit down across from Aida, my mind further away than it should be. I can’t help trying to picture Emma here. For all her insistence that we’re from such vastly different worlds, when I try to imagine it, Icansee her here. Maybe in my penthouse, she stands out, but even though my family home is a mansion and not a small beachfront condo, there’s a closeness in my family that I feel would overcome any differences in tax bracket between us. Emma’s attachment to her home and the way she spoke of her father tells me that her family mattered to her.
Mine matters to me, as well. And I can see her being a part of it.
The thought shocks me. I’ve never imagined anything like that before—never thought I would want it. The idea of giving up bachelorhood when living in a city like Los Angles has seemed ludicrous to me for all of my adult life. But imagining Emma here—I can see her laughing with Aida, rolling her eyes at me behind Lorenzo’s back, even gently chastising Carmine. I could see her being a good influence on him, a friend to Aida. I don’t know how well she and Lorenzo would get along—and I think he might judge her for her position in life—but he’d come around in time.
“Are you alright?” Aida leans forward, peering at me. “There’s something different about you, Dante. I noticed it as soon as you walked in. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I sit back, unsure if I should talk about Emma with her. Especially after our last conversation, I’m not so sure there’s anything to discuss. “Just a lot going on lately with the family business.”
It’s not a lie, exactly, but the look on Aida’s face tells me that she’s still not buying it. “Mhmm,” she says slowly, her tone clearly unconvinced. “I’ve never seen you so distracted because ofbusinessbefore. Did you meet someone?” A teasing smile plays across her lips, and I glare at her.
“Youdid!” Her voice rises to a pitch that could shatter glass, and my frown deepens.
“Keep it down, will you? I don’t want to have to field questions from Lorenzo on top of yours. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”
Aida’s smile falters, just a little. “Why not? You must like her, to be this distracted.”
“Even if I do, it’s not going anywhere. It can’t. It’ll burn out, and that’ll be it.” I cross one leg over my knee, tapping my fingers against my calf, and Aida smirks.
“You have a tell,” she says, pointing at my hand. “You must not be very good at poker. I know you don’t really believe that.”
“What do you know about poker?” I narrow my eyes at her, and Aida laughs.
“You have no idea what I get up to while I’m away.” She grins, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and I shake my head.
“Maybe I should have done what the Family wants, and married you off.”
