It wasn’t an apology, but it was the best I could do. The Falcone gene seemed to make it impossible to utter the actual words.
When the bell rang, I knew it was Savio, and with the same certainty, I knew that I didn’t want to see him. Not today, and not in the foreseeable future. I’d marry him because that’s what my family wanted, but I was done trying to make it work. I was done, period.
My tears had dried and my eyes didn’t water when his voice carried up to the hallway where I listened to his and Dad’s conversation.
Mom came up the stairs, her eyes landing on me and softening. Nonna was close behind her. After they’d given me a lecture for going to a party, they’d stayed up all night consoling me.
Toni had already called me this morning. She’d taken her car home after getting in an argument with Diego and covering Savio’s car in the remains of my cake.
I turned around and went back to my room, sinking down on my bed. Nonna came in, glancing at me, then walking over to the window. She let out a disapproving cluck.
My phone beeped. I skimmed over Savio’s message, then shoved the phone under my pillow. That was his version of an apology? Did he really think that was all it took to make up for his actions and words?
Nonna sat down beside me and took my hand. “Men aren’t like us.”
I let out a derisive laugh. “Yeah.”
“You chose Savio, knowing who he was. It’s a burden every woman has to carry, accepting their husband’s mistakes. Women make marriages work. It’s what we do.”
“We aren’t married yet and if it’s up to Savio, that won’t change until I’m old and wrinkly.” Besides, I had absolutely no intention to be the only one who was going to make a marriage work. That wasn’t a one-man—or rather one woman show.
Nonna clucked again. “He’ll marry you. Your father is going to put pressure on him.”
We both knew that Dad’s hands were bound. If Savio wasn’t a Falcone, then he could have done something, but as it was, we could do nothing but wait.
It was the summer after I’d finished high school. Toni and I had both been accepted to the University of Nevada, if only because Savio had a hand in it. He still hadn’t given any indication that he wanted to marry me anytime soon, but I was done playing woe is me. I hadn’t seen him since his birthday, had done my best to avoid any place where he could cross my way. Diego had stopped bringing him to our house, after a talk to Mom.
I’d spent the two weeks since the end of school with Toni, making plans for college, or working in the Amalfi, helping Dad with his insane workload. It was strange thinking of going to college, because it had never been part of my life plan.
I had chosen Romanic languages as a major with a minor in Gender and Sexuality Studies as a subtle form of protest—Toni’s amazing idea. She was majoring in Entrepreneurship in preparation to take over the Arena in the distant future.
Even though college had never been my dream, it now became the distraction I needed. I had something to look forward to.
“Gemma, pay attention. The tomato sauce is going to burn,” Nonna said, clucking her tongue.
I quickly stirred the red sauce in the ginormous saucepan. It was the only workout I’d been getting in, except for the occasional round of sit-ups or push-ups in the morning. Still, after a day of carrying dishes and stirring sauces, my arms ached all the same. Nonna and I worked in the restaurant from ten in the morning until eleven at night every day, except for Mondays. Dad stayed even longer, brooding over bills. Sometimes Mom helped as well, but Carlotta had been spending more time in the hospital these last couple of months with check-ups and tests to determine if she was strong enough for a transplant.
Male voices rang out. The restaurant was still closed. It would open for lunch in thirty minutes.
A bang sounded.
“Bratva! Lock the back!” Dad screamed before the first shots rang out.
I dropped the spoon, completely frozen.
Nonna rushed toward the backdoor and quickly locked it. Seconds later, someone kicked against the massive door. My heart pounded in my chest.
Shots and screams rang out in the restaurant. Dad was there with two waiters. Nonna grabbed my wrist in a crushing