Chapter 48 Tommy
The hum of conversation blends with bursts of laughter, clinking glasses, and the melodic strains of an orchestral band tucked into the corner.
We’ve been here for only a half hour or so and we have drinks in hand, but it does nothing to steady my nerves.
My pulse is all over the place, fast and uneven, not because of Antonio’s hand on me, but because I know Tommy is here somewhere.
I scan the room, searching, though I pretend I’m not, using my peripheral vision as Antonio guides me over to my father.
For some reason, I do not want Tommy to see Antonio touching me, even if it’s harmless, but my father’s gaze falls immediately on Antonio’s hand at my back and his face lights up.
“Giovanna.” My father kisses my cheek with uncharacteristic warmth.
His gaze flicks to Antonio, soft with satisfaction.
“It’s good to see you with a man who knows how to take care of you.
” His glance cuts across the room, and I know he’s looking at Tommy as hatred flits across his face.
“Unlike others.”
I refuse to follow his gaze, but I also refuse to engage in this discussion, my fake half smile plastered on my face.
Antonio chuckles uncomfortably. “She deserves the best, Mr. Marino.”
“She does,” my father agrees, nodding, “and I’m glad she’s finally figured that out.
”
A booming voice sounds from behind me.
“Yes, smart woman.”
I turn to see Aurelio walking over, cigar in one hand and a highball glass of whiskey in the other.
He’s weaving as he walks, slurring a bit, and fear and anger spike through my veins, turning my blood to ice.
I haven’t seen him since he came to my apartment and told me he would kill Tommy if I didn’t end our relationship.
I swallow hard, any pleasant words I might have come up with catching in my throat.
My father’s approval compounded by Aurelio’s feels like a trap closing, and for one split second, I wonder if my father knows that Aurelio came to see me that day.
“Looks like she’s found a good man, an appropriate match.
Good, good, good, ragazza.”
Good girl? Fuck him.
“So glad I could finally live up to your high standards. I was starting to worry.” I take a demure sip of my drink, locking my gaze onto his as Aurelio narrows his eyes at me.
I feel Lorenzo and Antonio turn to look at me but neither of them says anything.
“I am proud of you, ragazza. That is all. Right, Lorenzo? Antonio?” He turns to them to bring them in, maybe elicit backup, but my father stands there stoically drinking and the pressure of Antonio’s hand on my back increases.
“You’re getting sentimental in your old age, Aurelio.
Next thing I know, you’ll be offering to walk me down the aisle.
”
Anger flashes across Aurelio’s eyes, and my father turns to stare at me as Antonio laughs uncomfortably, trying to diffuse the tension.
“Walk down the aisle? I mean, you’re moving a little fast, but if you’re asking, I won’t say no.
”
I scoff, smile in place, and turn to look at him as I drain my drink, giving him a look that says I’m done with this conversation.
He catches on quickly, and says, “Let’s go get you another drink.
Gentlemen.”
Antonio guides me over to the bar, and I turn and lean against it, scanning the room, as he orders with the bartender.
I feel emboldened after my run-in with Aurelio, and I’m ready now to see Tommy.
I let myself look for him.
Tommy is across the room, surrounded by men in suits and women draped in brightly colored dresses.
He’s laughing, that easy, commanding smile lighting up his face, a hand resting on Councilman Donovan’s shoulder.
He’s confident, smooth, like he was made for this world.
Like he never needed me at all.
And beside him must be his girlfriend.
She’s blonde as Antonio described her, but what he didn’t say is that she is beautiful.
Perfect posture, bright white smile, impeccably dressed, much tinier than I am with her tapered waist and perky breasts.
Jealousy eats through me like a flesh-eating virus, and the edges of my vision get cloudy.
I’m so focused on Tommy that it barely registers when Antonio turns next to me and takes my empty glass from me, replacing it with a fresh one.
Then he leans in and brushes a kiss on my bare shoulder, just like he did when we were leaving the New Year’s Eve party all those years ago on the rooftop of Dragovari Tower.
Before Tommy. Before everything.
It’s at that moment that Tommy must feel me staring at him and looks up, locking eyes with me.
It feels like time stops and everybody disintegrates into dust, leaving only him and me in the room.
Then everything speeds up like a video being fast forwarded.
Tommy’s smile collapses into something dark and feral as his gaze shifts to Antonio.
His jaw locks, his shoulders tightening as if he’s about to break through the crowd with his bare hands—and then that’s exactly what he does.
He’s coming straight for us, cutting through groups of people without a word of apology or excusing himself.
My glass trembles in my hand, and panic claws up my throat.
I can’t do this, not here, not with Antonio, not with my father and Aurelio and the world watching.
Before Antonio notices the storm building, I smile at him and pretend to wave at someone behind him.
“I see Lexi! I’m going to go say hi. See you in a minute?
”
He nods and grins back at me. “Sure.”
I’m practically shaking, wishing I could hurry this along, but not wanting to tip him off.
He runs the back of his finger over my arm gently and wanders off in the opposite direction, drink in hand.
Discarding my drink at the bar, I beeline first for the bathroom then, remembering all the times Tommy followed me in there, I turn hard and thread my way through the crowd.
I try to lose myself behind groups of people gathered, but Tommy’s gaze burns into me, following me, and I end up pushing through the heavy concrete front doors and into the freezing night air.
The valet scurries off to retrieve my car, but I stand on the sidewalk hoping to flag down a cab.
My breath fogs in the cold, sharp and quick, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Then he is behind me, the heat of his anger emanating off him in waves.
Tommy.
“You’re with Antonio?” His voice is low, dangerous, vibrating with barely restrained rage.
I spin on him. “What the fuck do you care? I haven’t heard from you in over a year except for the few times you decided to stalk me.
”
His eyes flash. “365 days, 2 hours and 26 minutes since you casually told me on these steps that you didn’t want to be with me anymore.
” His chest heaves. “Since you last answered me. Since you let me see you.” He lurches a step toward me then stops himself, clenching his fists.
“222 days, 17 hours, and 32 minutes since you last let me touch you. Since I was inside of you. But don’t tell me I haven’t reached out.
I’ve texted you every single day, called every single night.
”
I laugh bitterly, dragging my phone out of my clutch and shoving it toward him.
“Every day? Then where are they? Because my number hasn’t changed, Tommy, and the last text I have from you is from right after we broke up.
But whatever, I shouldn’t be surprised.
Lying has become your specialty, hasn’t it?
”
“I’m not lying, Giovanna.” His voice breaks, raw and angry.
“I have never lied to you, and I have no reason to start now. You have such a problem with me putting on a fake smile, making small talk, saying some version of what people want to hear as a means to an end? Everything about me that you now hate was instilled in me by you.”
“I regret it.” My throat tightens, but I force the words out.
“Every day of my life.”
His eyes shutter, like I’ve hit him in the gut .
“You regret being with me?”
“Yes! Yes, Tommy. I regret ever letting you touch me, going all the way back to the first time you kissed me.” My voice wavers, tears building up behind my eyes and threatening to spill over, but I don’t stop.
“I regret having anything to do with who you’ve become and losing the part of you that I loved the most. More than anything, I regret falling in love with you, because I’m fucked now.
I can’t get over how badly you broke my heart no matter how hard I try.
”
“Sweet girl—” Stricken, he reaches out for me, reaches to brush his hand down my cheek, and I slap him away.
That’s when the flash goes off.
Both of us whirl toward the sound and see a photographer crouched by the hedges.
When he stands and starts snapping picture after picture, another paparazzi and then another and another come running.
Cameras are clicking, reporters shout Tommy’s name, questions are shot at us like gunfire.
Tommy steps in front of me to protect me from the photographers, but the valet screeches up to the curb in my car.
He yanks open the back door and shoves me inside, yelling at the valet, “Lose them. Get her home.”
He slams the door behind me, and the car peels away, leaving him standing under the flood of camera flashes, eyes locked on mine until we are no longer in sight.