Chapter 36
I hate feeling sensitive, and I can only blame it on being in love with Gianni.
It’s not the feeling itself that scares me. It was inevitable, since from the first day I set foot in his “villa,” he seemed intent on stealing my heart.
I’m fine with the being-in-love part; what I don’t like is the need to be loved back. Nor do I like the insecurity I’m feeling right now.
Maybe it’s time to put Plan B into action, a cowardly voice warns me.
I started researching an old dream again: becoming a flight attendant and traveling the whole world.
Amber and I finished high school online, and I have a bachelor’s degree in marketing, also done remotely, because I once read that even though a college degree isn’t required for flight attendants, it’s a differentiator airlines look for on a résumé, especially marketing.
Still, with our wandering life, it’s never been more than a dream.
I couldn’t leave my sister alone and go so far away.
Amber, though, is pregnant now. She’ll probably settle down with Beau, so I’ll have to move forward with my life, too.
I absolutely don’t want to imagine that this situation with Gianni is permanent. Even though he’s told me he wants me to meet his family, I suspect that the desire is more about who he is than any plans he’s making for the two of us.
At some point, the attraction we feel will fade, and I don’t want to be the one left behind with a broken heart.
At the same time, thinking about a separation now is too painful.
I wander aimlessly through the hall, because I wasn’t lying when I told him I couldn’t sit calmly at the table. When I’m nervous, I need to move.
A waiter passes with a flute of champagne, and I, who have never tasted a drop of alcohol in my life, not even at the dozens of dinners we’ve gone to, am tempted to grab one and toss it back in a single gulp, but I don’t like losing control of myself, so I ditch the crazy idea.
I hide behind a column and listen to him speak in English with that delicious Italian accent.
After a few minutes, enchanted as he hypnotizes the audience with his charm, I wonder if I didn’t overreact to Capria’s presence.
As gorgeous as he is, this wasn’t the first time I’ve run into one of his exes, nor will it be the last, so either I learn to deal with that certainty or I give up on us, which, at the moment, isn’t even crossing my mind.
The instant he finishes, the room explodes in applause, and I smile, happy everything went well.
Only when a tear slips down my cheek do I realize I’ve been crying.
My God, where did that come from? I’m not that sensitive.
I decide to go to the restroom to fix my makeup, because even though Gianni said we won’t stay for the dinner afterward, I don’t want to walk the hall on his arm looking like a raccoon, mascara smudged everywhere.
I step into the bathroom and need every ounce of willpower not to turn and leave immediately.
Capria is here with a friend. Another beauty, this one a redhead.
I don’t want to talk to her, much less fake warmth I don’t feel. I’m not the type to keep forced interactions. Either I like you or don’t. In either case, you’ll know just by looking at me.
I didn’t take to her, and not only because she’s Gianni’s ex but because she seems as fake as a three-dollar bill.
“Elainy, what a pleasure to see you again.”
This time, when she mangles my name, I’m ready.
“Hi, Crapia!”
Her smile curdles, and if I weren’t annoyed to be running into her again so soon, I might laugh at our immaturity. Two grown women in our thirties acting like teenagers fighting over a boyfriend. Look how far I’ve sunk!
“We didn’t really get to know each other,” the phony says. “Gianni barely let us talk.”
I plant a hand on my hip, and if she knows anything about body language, she’ll guess it’s a war cry.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I’m very irritated.
“Let’s be clear: I don’t want to be your friend or ‘get to know you better.’ I came in here just to touch up my makeup”—I point to my eye—”not to socialize. So do us both a favor and ignore me.”
“Wow, how rude!” the redhead says, but I walk past them without a second glance.
I pull a tissue from a golden box on the counter and start wiping the barely noticeable smudge.
I pick up my lipstick, but before I can reapply it, I hear Gianni’s ex say, “If you’re so sure about your relationship, why don’t you ask him why we met for breakfast?”
“He’ll tell me,” I say, faking an indifference I don’t feel. “We practically came straight from Italy to the event. We were busy at the apartment and haven’t had time to talk yet.”
I cap it with a wink and a wry smile to hint at the kind of “busy” we were. Her expression twists into a scowl.
“We’ll see how long that smile lasts when you find out everything. Maybe you don’t know, but Gianni and I dated for years. I was the only steady woman in his life until now, and that’s no small thing, considering he’s thirty-three.”
“And why should I worry about that? From where I’m standing, the fact that you kept breaking up and getting back together only shows he wasn’t sure about what he felt for you.”
Or that he isn’t ready to tie himself down for good, the voice of insecurity whispers, and when he is, it’ll be to the one he always came back to.
“I’m pregnant, and the baby is Gianni’s.”
She drops it without the slightest hint she was about to lob a bomb like that.
I brace myself against the counter, so stunned I can’t breathe. Only when I feel dizzy do I suck air deep into my lungs.
“I told him today. Says a lot that he didn’t even tell you we were together. If you know anything at all about Gianni, you know he’ll end up with me, no matter how bewitched he is by you in bed.”
I want to tell her to shut up, but in the back of my mind, I remember a conversation we had right at the start of our relationship.
If you’re pregnant, I’ll take responsibility. I would never turn my back on a child.
Bile rises in my throat, but even so, I won’t give that woman the pleasure of seeing me break. I try to slip past her and her friend to leave the bathroom.
I’m almost at the door when I hear a cry of pain. When I turn, I stare, horrified. Capria’s on the floor with a small cut on her head.
My first instinct is to help, but when I try to approach, the redhead screams, “You attacked her, you lunatic! I’m calling the police!”
“What?”
“I saw you slam her head against the counter. For God’s sake, Capria just told you she’s pregnant!”
I feel the ground drop out from under my feet, and the room spins like I’m inside a blender.
I can’t move. Not even when I hear Gianni’s voice calling my name do I manage to.