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Garon laughed. “Me? After the way I lived? I’ve been the talk of this town for years.”
“They’re going to say talk about the baby, that we’re not married and…”
A dark lightening flashed behind his blue eyes. “I want to see the person who has that courage.”
He was determined to protect me—protect us—and that had put me at ease. After all, as long as I had him with me, there was no reason to care about anyone else. People will talk, they will say I’m just like my sister, that I’ve tricked a Caputo brother into having this child, but at the end of the day only him and I knew the truth.
“Let’s go then.” I took his hand and got out of the car.
Garon couldn’t help his eyes from drifting my way and I smiled to myself. He even made me do a pirouette to admire my body from all angles.
“Damn, you look good.” He said with hunger. Before we could get inside, he stopped me abruptly. “We might run into women that I was…acquaintedwith.”
“Really?” I couldn’t help the sarcasm in my voice. You couldn’t throw a rock in Palermo without hitting someone he wasacquaintedwith. “You have no idea how many times I’ve seen you with other women.”
“You did?”
“Garon, you weren’t exactly discreet. At Grazia’s last birthday party you took three girls to the bathroom. I was there for one of your performances.” He looked away, not ashamed, but not comfortable either. “I’m not bothered by your past. And I’m not stupid enough to believe they will stop trying to get with you just because you’re having a baby with me.” The thought kept me up at night, actually. I couldn’t help but wonder how long until he’d finally need someone else—someone new.
“I don’t care. I’m done.”
I didn’t question his words even if deep inside I didn’t believe them. We walked inside the busy restaurant, where a hostess was waiting with a clipboard in her hands.
“Ah, Miss Bernoulli.” Her face lit up when she saw me, which took Garon by surprise. “We’ve missed having you as a guest. I’m glad you’re back.”
“Hello, Tanya. We have a reservation.” I gestured to Garon.
“Mr. Caputo, of course.” She winked. “Everything is ready for you. You have the table in the alcove, it’s more private.”
“Thank you.” Garon tipped her a few bills. “We can walk ourselves, don’t worry.”
“Enjoy your food.”
I waved goodbye and after moving away, Garon looked at me.
“I didn’t know you’re familiar with the staff.”
“You’re underestimating my love for that tart, Caputo. I dined here almost every Monday.”
“Maybe I should have used your name to get this reservation, not mine.” He joked and I laughed.
We were almost to our table—almost—when Michele Ciccisbeo and his wife, Bonna blocked our way. I knew them, of course. Michele and my father have been friends for years.
“Garon.” The man came closer and shook hands. “It’s good to see you laughing, boy. You had us worried for a while.” Just to make sure we didn’t miss the meaning of his words, he nodded at me.
Bonna, on the other hand, was nowhere near as subtle.
“Oh, dear, Pina, I’m so glad to see you again.” She said, with fake enthusiasm. I didn’t believe it for a second because even if they’ve been friends of my family for decades, everyone in our circle refused to even talk to me after Ariana shamed our name. She could have seen me a long time ago, only she didn’t care enough to.
“Hello, Bonna.”
“When I heard you were pregnant, I was… dear God, I was shocked. I mean, I know you’re twenty, but still terribly young.”
Garon looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Mrs. Ciccisbeo, but weren’t you younger when you had your daughter?”
“Oh!” She clapped her hands. “I’m so glad you asked about our Monica. You’ve broken her heart, you know.”
“Pardon?” He recoiled from her words.
