Chapter 37
The car matches Julian’s father, Carlo’s, car to a T.
“Where are we going?” I ask Julian.
“You’ll see,” he replies from behind the large vintage steering wheel.
It looks almost comical, watching him drive it.
I’m so used to him looking all intimidating in the Escalade.
It’s three in the afternoon. He was gone for most of the day, working at the casino, while I hung out at home.
A few days ago, I asked Lora if she had any shelter work I could do from home.
She suggested I help with social media, so I’ve been spending my free time doing that and writing up lesson plans.
Other than Darcy and the priest, no one knows about our marriage.
It sucks because I want to scream it from the rooftops, but I understand why I have to keep quiet.
“Can I have a hint?” I whine.
“Food.” That’s the lame hint he gives me.
My face falls. “Can I get another?”
“Don’t be greedy, Gen.”
“You’re the one being greedy with the hints, mister.”
Shaking his head, he fights back a smile. It’s a regular move from him. Lord forbid, he smiles once in a while.
These Mafia men think they’ll burst into flames if they show any emotion other than rage.
“How about you control the music?” He leans forward to tap the console.
I gape at the radio. “On that thing?”
“Yes, on that thing.”
I grab my phone, shaking it in the air. “There’s nowhere to sync or plug in my phone.”
“Play the radio or 8-track.”
“All right, let me just grab my most current 8-track.” I fetch my purse from the floorboard, making a show of sifting through it.
“They’re called tapes, and open the glove compartment.”
“Didn’t know you were such a music-thingy specialist,” I grumble, tossing my purse back on the floorboard.
When I open the glove compartment, I find a stack of 8-track tapes .
A full-on told you so expression is on his face.
I give him the finger.
He shakes his head again.
I flip through the tapes. “Where’d you even get these? The extinct store?”
“It’s wild, the things you can find on the internet.”
I look through the options.
The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, and Adriano Celentano.
“All Marta’s favorites,” I comment.
Julian nods. “The same tapes my father kept in his glove compartment.”
I love this nostalgia trip.
“Let’s go with The Beatles.” I lean in closer to the 8-track. “Now, how the heck do I work this thing?”
“Slide the tape in, album side up.”
“Got it.”
I feel like I’ve just solved the mystery of the Alcatraz escape when the tape slides in, and “Hey Jude” flows through the speakers.
I sing along, swaying my shoulders to the music.
Had it not been for Marta, I wouldn’t know this song.
She taught me so much—how to cook, an appreciation for new music, and how a real mother loves. She was who I needed after losing Sonya.
Julian taps his thumb against the steering wheel to the beat.
A few more songs play until Julian pulls into the parking lot of a small pizzeria.
I’ve never been here before, but as I read the sign, I instantly recognize it.
Il Migliore Pizzeria.
Marta’s sister’s pizzeria.
I peer over at Julian, slack jawed.
“I figured we’d stay on theme of following in my parents’ date-night traditions.” He kills the engine. “They came here frequently.”
“Pizza sounds amazing.” I open my door, stepping out, and the sun is setting in the background.
I love that he brought me to a place that meant so much to his family.
Julian’s opening the door into his life for me.
I’m his wife now, and he’s my husband.
Even if he said the opposite before, this is a true marriage.
We will make it one.
I’ll also make date night a regular for us too.
Traditions are made to be passed down, and we’ll do that.
Julian rests his hand on the base of my back while leading me toward the entrance. The sweet aroma of pizza hits me as soon as the door opens.
It’s a Thursday, and the place is packed.
Nearly all the booths are taken, and the tables in the middle are full. People are laughing, eating, and drinking.
“Oh my freaking God!” a teenage girl’s voice says. “Julian? Is that you?”
My attention slides to the hostess stand as a girl skips around it. Her black hair is in two French braids, and she’s wearing a black shirt with the pizzeria’s logo.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” she says when she reaches us.
“Hi, Betty,” Julian says, a trace of unease on his face.
She grins, not catching on to his apprehension, and hugs him. He taps her back a few times, and she pulls away.
“This is my cousin,” Julian introduces to me.
Betty immediately hugs me.
“This is my wife, Genesis,” Julian continues when Betty pulls back.
Betty gasps.
I nearly do the same, shocked he told her that.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Genesis! Let me get you guys a booth.” She turns to grab menus but stops. “Do you need menus?”
Julian shakes his head.
“Perfect.” She waves us forward. “Nothing has changed on it.”
As I walk past, a few heads turn in our direction.
Since we’re on the outskirts of the city, more in a small town, not as many gape as they see Julian. His Mafia-related reputation hasn’t followed him here.
Framed photos and newspaper stories are hung on the brick walls. Red-and-white checkered cloths cover the tables but not the booths though.
“Here ya go!” Betty says. “Aunt Marta’s favorite booth.”
Julian’s gaze drifts over his shoulder toward the door.
“Thank you, Betty,” I say, rushing out the words.
I push Julian closer to the booth, stopping him from changing his mind. The uncertainty on his face tells me he’s wondering if this was a mistake.
“What can I get you to drink?” Betty asks.
“I’ll have a water,” I say with a smile.
Julian holds up two fingers. “Make that two.”
“Got it!” Betty skips away.
Julian makes himself comfortable, and I slide into the booth, across from him. He’s quiet as I glance to the right, noticing the photos.
The largest one is of his family. They’re sitting in this same booth with a deep-dish pizza in front of them. In the photo, Julian is squeezed in the booth with Melissa, Damien, and a boy I don’t recognize.
I tap the photo. “Who’s that?”
“My cousin Nuncio. Betty’s older brother.” He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, smoothing his hand over his jaw. “He’s dead.”
My heart drops in sadness. “I’m so sorry.”
“His death is what broke my mother and Aunt Belinda’s relationship. It’s why we’re no longer the large family we used to be.”
“Can I ask what happened?”
“He died on my sixteenth birthday.” His Adam’s apple bobs.
“Vincent threw me a party at some club. Nuncio and I snuck in the back alley to smoke a cigarette. Out of nowhere, a car pulled into the alley and started shooting. I jumped behind the dumpster, but Nuncio was too slow. A bullet hit him in the chest, and he died three hours later.”
Reaching out, I rest my hand over his. His arm tenses, as if he’s debating pulling away, but he doesn’t.
“Did they find out who did it?” I ask.
“Some asshole my father had banned from the casino. Fucker is dead now.” He squares his shoulders back in the booth.
“After Nuncio’s death, my aunt Belinda begged my mother and father to leave the Mafia life.
When my father refused, she told my mother to leave him.
Not that she disliked my father—she loved him—but because she was scared for their lives.
They offered him a stake in the pizzeria even, but he would never turn his back on the Lombardis.
My aunt said she’d no longer put her family in harm’s way and stopped coming around.
The only time my mother saw her was when she and my father came here.
Other than that, it was like they no longer existed in each other’s world.
” His face turns almost vacant. “The rest of my mother’s family walked away from her too.
It was either she chose them or my father. She chose him.”
Her choice was her death.
I know that’s what Julian is thinking.
I lean in closer, softening my tone. “How long has it been since you’ve been here?”
“Eight years.”
“It really is you!”
I look away from Julian to find a petite woman, with frizzy hair and bright purple lipstick, strolling toward us.
“When Betty told me you were here, I almost didn’t believe it,” she adds when she reaches us. She motions for Julian to stand. “Now, you get your butt up and give me a hug.”
Julian isn’t even all the way to his feet when she wraps him in a tight hug.
“There he is!” A man comes up behind them, wearing an apron with a pizza wearing headphones on it, and slaps Julian on the back.
“About time you came here. We’ve missed you and your brother coming up here, eating all the pizza and telling me how I could make pizzas better.
” He shakes his head and winks. “Smart-mouthed kids.”
Julian shakes his head, a crack of a smile on his lips. “It’s nice to see you, Aunt Belinda and Uncle Mick.”
“And who is this pretty thing?” Belinda scoots in closer to me, resting her hip against the table.
“My wife,” Julian says, laying his soft eyes on me, “Genesis.”
His shoulders have eased.
His jaw is unclenched.
He’s growing comfortable here.
“Wife? Now, that’s what I like to hear!” Belinda’s expression is similar to Betty’s. “A beautiful wife.”
I stand and hug Belinda, feeling that same warmth from her as I used to get from Marta.
“Did you have a wedding?” Betty asks, coming up behind her parents with our waters.
“No,” I say with a hint of a frown. “It was a quick thing.”
“Are you pregnant?” Betty asks, setting down the waters.
“Betty!” Belinda smacks her arm.
“No,” I say around a laugh. “We’re not pregnant.”
“Not yet,” Julian corrects. “We’re going to have a wedding.”
“And we’ll be sure to send you an invite,” I add.
Mick rubs his hands together. “Congrats to the newlyweds! I’ll send out my favorite pizza.”
“You two enjoy your meal,” Belinda says with a smile. “You let us know if you need anything, and don’t you leave before saying goodbye!”
“We won’t,” I say, returning the smile.
“I love them,” I say as soon as they’re out of earshot.
“They’re good people.” Julian rubs his face. “Sometimes, I wish my father had taken their offer. Our lives would’ve been different.”
“I could totally see you tossing pizzas in the air, looking all hot.” I smirk, settling one elbow on the table.
He forces a smile.
“You could always do that, you know? Leave that world behind and start a new one. There’s plenty of places we could go.”
He leans back in the booth, an unsettling expression on his face. “The only way I leave the Lombardi family is when I die. My parents signed me up for life, no exceptions.”
“But wouldn’t Damien …” My words trail off.
“Damien isn’t the boss. Even he’s stuck in this life. He’s just lucky enough to be at the top of the totem pole.” He stops, grabs his water, and scoffs. “Though I wouldn’t consider him lucky.”
I drag my hand along the hem of my tank.
I’m having a love-hate relationship with our conversation.
I love that I’m getting to know Julian better, meeting his family and learning the secrets of his life. But I hate that some of those secrets are so dark.
I want to fix that for him.
Shine some light.
Show him there is good out here.
The proof is right in front of him—me, the family who was so excited to see him tonight, our future.
“Garlic bread is here,” Betty says, dropping the bread and two plates off at our table. “Let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, Dad has your pizza in the oven.” She shoots a glance at Julian. “Skyline still your favorite?”
“Skyline is still my favorite,” he confirms with a nod.
“I’m happy we came here,” Julian says, watching me. “I wasn’t sure I ever would again.”
“Thank you for bringing me.” I smile over at him. “I think we just started a new tradition. Date nights, just like your parents.”
“I’ll be sure to always pencil you in.”
I push myself forward and peck a kiss on his lips. “You’d better, husband .”
After we finish the most amazing pizza I’ve had in my life—I’m not even kidding, and this is coming from a New York girlie—Belinda and Mick come to our table to tell us goodbye.
A tear slips down Belinda’s cheek as she makes us promise to come again soon and not to forget their wedding invites.
“Genesis, you’re changing my life,” Julian says when we’re back in the car. He stares straight ahead through the windshield, as if he isn’t sure whether he likes it or not.
I scoot in closer—a plus of not having a center console—and rest my head against his shoulder. “You saved mine, so it’s only fair.”
He takes my hand, tenderly kissing it. “You want to know why I want a baby so bad?”
“Why?” I whisper.
“Other than Damien, I have no one else. No other Bellinis exist in this world. My mom, she wanted a big family, grandchildren. I still want to give her that.”
“You have me.” I squeeze his hand. “And soon, we’ll have a baby.”