Hate to Date You (Dating #4) - Monica Murphy Page 0,59

up from her. Anyway, Josie and this one guy who they introduced me to as one of my potential husbands, well, they fell totally in love, and it was okay because they were the same age. He was a little awkward and so was she, and they had a lot in common. They sat around that night, talking about their favorite books. They were perfect for each other. He was actually really cute. Tall. Dark hair. Glasses. And he was so into her.” I sigh, remembering how fast it happened for them. “She didn’t return home with me. She stayed in Italy, and they got married six months later. They have three kids.”

“At least someone found a husband,” Carter says wryly.

“That’s exactly what I told my family, but they didn’t think it was funny.” I stare out the window, watching the raindrops slide down the glass. It’s raining pretty hard, and the wind has picked up too.

“I have a question. Why are you the one they want to marry off so badly, when your older brothers are still single?”

“Tony would kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but he was married, almost ten years ago, in his early twenties. My parents sent him to Italy to find a bride and he found one, brought her home, and married her. But she hated it here. She missed her family, her twin sister, her hometown. One morning, Tony woke up and his wife was gone. She left a note, letting him know she was running away and planned on never coming back. They ended up getting a divorce.”

“She actually ran away?” Carter sounds shocked.

I nod. “Yes. Back to Italy. When she lived with Tony, he said she cried herself to sleep every single night, carrying on like she was dying. He said it was awful, and he felt so bad, but he didn’t know what to do for her. His marriage is a moment he’d rather forget.”

“Interesting. And what about Michael?”

“He’s married to the business. My father likes it. He’s fully committed. Eventually he’ll hit forty and realize he needs a wife. He’ll go to Italy, find some cute girl in her early twenties who hears the word California and believes Disneyland will be her next-door neighbor. He’ll get her pregnant and start the cycle all over again,” I explain. “I’m rambling. Let’s talk about something else. I’m sure you’re bored.”

“Not really,” Carter says. “Your family stories are fascinating.”

“You’re just saying that because you got a free meal tonight,” I tease.

He laughs. “I appreciated that free meal too, but no. Your stories really are fascinating. I can only imagine how rebellious you were at nineteen, roaming the streets at night in some quaint Italian city, looking for a rowdy bar.”

“It was fun,” I agree, not wanting to get too deep into it. His description isn’t too far off from what I was doing at that time in my life. “But I was also angry. At my parents. At life. I did some stupid stuff.”

“Like…”

“Ha! I’m not going to tell you.” I clamp my lips shut.

“Oh come on, Stel,” he says, his tone wheedling. Like he’s trying to convince me to confess my secrets. “You can’t hold back.”

I sigh. “You know how it is. When you’re nineteen, you do stupid stuff because you think you’re invincible. Untouchable. That summer in Italy, I was hanging out with some—unsavory characters, is what my cousin called them. I thought they were exciting, but really? They were scumbags who were into drugs and teenaged girls who gave their bodies away freely.” Like me. God, I think of the things I used to do when I was young and drunk. I had no inhibitions. My parents were in another country, and I didn’t have to worry about their judgment or their disappointment. I could do whatever I wanted and no one was going to tell on me. “I had a lot of money, so I paid for their drugs, and they kept me around.”

I start chewing on my thumbnail again, despite the stinging spot from my torn hangnail. I was so reckless that summer, so mad. And no wonder I felt that way. I had my parents telling me I wasn’t worth much more than becoming a wife to some random stranger. Seriously, who does that?

Old resentment and hurt feelings arise, and I shove them back down. I’ve forgiven my parents for what they did to me when I was a dumb kid. I don’t