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“I’d like to know what Alessandro thinks on that matter. What lies his father has spewed about us,” Gio says.
Oh no.
Alessandro bristles at my brother’s words but gathers himself. “All I know is that you were once childhood friends. Then he said you stole something from him, something important, and you’ve hated each other ever since.”
My father laughs at Alessandro’s explanation. “Of course he would say that. No offense to your father, Alessandro, but he likes to bend the truth for his convenience. You can’t steal something that was never his to begin with.”
My mother reaches over and grabs my father’s hand, holding it tightly as if she knows it’s hard for him to tell us. Alessandro’s brows rise high, but he doesn’t interrupt my father.
“Giuseppe always wanted what I had growing up. It started with toys, my clothes, then cars, and then girls. He was relentless in his pursuit of what he thought he deserved. Our fathers were best friends, just like our grandfathers, and so on and so on before us. The Fiorenzos and Contis, throughout history, were inseparable until your father.” The room is silent as they listen to his story. “Then along came Maria, my Maria,” he says, pulling my mother’s hand to his lips and kissing it ever so gently. “She is the love of my life. There were some things I was not prepared to give him.”
Oh. I understand now. They were fighting over her.
Mamma gives my father a loving smile. “Maybe I should explain the next bit, sweetheart,” she says softly, and my father shakes his head, but she stops him. “I can do it,” she reassures him. “I must do it for our children.” Reluctantly, my father nods, and my mother steadies herself to tell the story. “Your fathers were at university together with my older brother, they were all friends. One summer, my brother brought the two of them home with him, I can’t remember why. This was the first time meeting them both, they were two of the handsomest boys I had ever seen. It was thrilling having two university guys flirting with me, a senior in high school,” she explains. “My brother was very protective over me and warned the two of them that if he caught either of them with me, he would kill them.”
Hmm, reminds me very much of my own two brothers.
“I didn’t listen.” My father chuckles.
“No, he didn’t, and when I had come home one night from a date with someone from school, he told me how jealous he was and that he wanted to be the one to take me out,” she says, smiling at my father. “We then embarked on a secret relationship the entire summer. I didn’t have eyes for anyone else, not even Giuseppe who was adamant that he would win over my affections while hooking up in secret with my best friend,” she adds.
My father’s hand tightens around my mother’s, and a sinking feeling hits my stomach. “It was during one of my brother’s parties that Giuseppe had seen us making out. He lost his mind and told my brother, and my brother and his friends tried to beat up Francesco,” she explains.
“They broke my arm,” my father adds.
Oh, my goodness. Uncle Mimmo is a savage.
“I was in tears, distraught that my brother could be so cruel. Unfortunately, I stormed off into the forest and I didn’t know Giuseppe had followed me.” My mother swallows, and I can see how uncomfortable she is. “He thought I had betrayed him by dating Francesco. He yelled at me for leading him on. He said I was flirting with him and making him feel like there was a chance. I was in shock at how angry he was at me, I had never done anything to give him an indication that I was interested in him, it was always Francesco.” She grips his hand tightly. “Something in him snapped, and he attacked me, but thankfully before he was able to do anything more than rip my clothes and give me a black eye, my brother saw the entire thing and grabbed him and broke his leg.”
What the …? I’m shocked.
“After that night, he vowed to destroy my family and Francesco’s.”
The entire table is silent.
Alessandro’s face pales. “Will you excuse me, please?” he says, getting up from the table.
“I’d be embarrassed, too, if my father did something as disgusting as that,” Giorgio states.
“Shut up, Gio. For God’s sake,” I say, throwing my napkin down on the table and rushing after my husband. “Alessandro, wait, please,” I call out after him, but he ignores me as he heads toward the underground garage. I follow him silently till he reaches the car. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. He stills and looks up at me. I can see the anger and hurt swirling around inside him. I walk slowly toward him until I am right in front of him.
“How can you look at me and not see a monster’s son?” he asks me.
“You’re not your father.”
“Yes, I am. I blackmailed you into staying married to me. I fucked you when you were drunk not once but twice,” he shouts at me.
“You were drunk, too,” I argue with him.
“Once,” he says, holding up his finger at me.
My brows pull together. “I wanted you, too.”
“I could have said no,” he argues.
“Who cares about Paris? What I care about is now, and how I’ve fallen in love with you,” I say, unable to stop the words tumbling from my lips.
He shakes his head. “No, you can’t have.”
