Page 151 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

“Don’t,” Gian murmured, stepping out of Elena’s reach.

“So touchy, Gian.”

“I wonder why, Elena.”

“You’re no fun tonight.”

With her, he was never fun.

“If you want something, then ask for it. Don’t, however, try to manipulate me into giving you something by pretending to be nice or that you give a shit. You don’t. I don’t. It’s that simple.”

Elena shot him a look. “Fine, whatever. Shiny and pretty things, people to sing me happy birthday, the usual.”

Gian nodded. “It’ll be done.”

“Out somewhere, too. Not here.”

“Pick a place.”

Elena was the one to walk past him that time. Her smile was serene and her sarcasm oozed as she spoke over her dainty shoulder. “You’re too good to me, Gian.”

As he should be.

As he had to be.

Because she was his wife.

Little else had to matter, apparently. Certainly not his feelings. Those disgusting fucking things were meant for weaker men, and Gian had no time for weakness. The only time he did indulge his feelings were when it came to a certain woman that was out of his reach.

“Well, are you coming to eat supper, or are you going to stand there in the entryway all night?” Elena asked.

“Did you cook it?”

“God, no.”

“Then yes, I’ll eat,” Gian said.

He didn’t even trust his wife not to try and kill him with food, honestly.

This was how their life was lived, now that they had to be together in some shape or form. Carefully, circling around each other with the occasional sharp word quick to show itself and cut the other person standing too close. Maybe it was easier for them both this way.

If they stuck to what was, they would not dig too deep into what had been.

Neither of them wanted that mess brought up.

Not again, anyhow.

The priest waved his hands upward in a sweeping motion to the parishioners, and everyone stood at the same time to be blessed a final time. Gian was grateful—it was almost over.

And by it, he meant his time with his wife for a couple of days.

Church was meant to be one of his peaceful times, but even that was becoming tainted by the fact that he now sat in a pew with his wife, instead of with his family like he once had. Appearances were everything, after all.

Some needed to be kept happier than others, in that regard.

“Finally,” Elena grumbled under her breath as the priest dismissed the congregation. She stood, brushing down the skirt of her cream-colored, knee-length dress that matched her shoes and hat. “Mass never ends. I hate it.”

And yet, she was one of the best dressed in the entire congregation.