but I didn’t want to be left out.”
And then we’re hugging again, a mess of tears and a blend of Italian and English as we make up.
Papa looks on from his bed with one eye open and a smile until we’re done.
“So, what are you going to do about your husband, Vi?” he asks.
“Papa, he’s not really my husband. We’ll probably just get it annulled.” The words catch in my throat painfully.
He motions for Nana to come closer and whispers in her ear. She dips her chin like she’s asking if he’s sure and he nods. She stands upright and then lays a sucker punch to my upper arm.
“Hey! What was that for?” I say, rubbing the spot even though Nana couldn’t hurt a fly with a weak punch like that.
“You’ll do no such thing until you tell him the truth of how you feel and see if he feels the same way,” Papa decrees. He literally just told me to live my life for myself and not him, but then he turns around and starts making proclamations like he’s a king. Not that I’m going to tell the man in the hospital bed with a new hardware-improved heart to hush.
Mama is slightly kinder. “Baby girl, that boy is over the moon for you. I saw that, which is why I was so mad. I thought he was lying to you, you were lying to him, and you were both lying to everyone. And that Colin boy? What were you ever thinking?” She shakes her head, her nose crinkled like she smells something bad.
I twist my lips. “I don’t know, Mom. Maybe we were lying. Maybe mostly to ourselves.”
“Tell him,” Papa says again.
And this time, I nod in agreement. “I will.”
“If he is not so sure, maybe remind him how beautiful you looked in your dress. Or remind him of other things. The stomach is not the only way to a man’s heart,” Nana says slyly. “Did I ever tell you how I got Stefano to propose to me?”
“NO!” Mom and I shout at the same time, but we smile when we see Nana and Papa making lovey-dovey eyes at one another. I probably don’t want to hear that story, but if that look after fifty years of marriage is what I can have with Ross, I’m willing to do just about anything.
I step into the hallway, pulling my phone from my bag, and dial Ross. It rings three times and then goes to voicemail. I consider leaving a message but hang up, wanting to talk to him in person.
I call Abi next, thinking maybe she’ll know where Ross is.
She answers right away but sounds breathless and her voice is a little too high. “Hey, Vi! Is Papa okay?”
“Yes,” I say, nodding even though she can’t see me. “Abi? I’m ready. I need to talk to Ross. Do you know where he is?”
She hums. “Uhm, maybe I do. He’s had a really rough week at work. I’m sure you understand. Dad’s coming down on him pretty hard.”
There’s a scuffle in the background, and I swear she makes some noise that translates to ‘no’ in dog language. “You okay, Abi?”
“What? Oh, yeah, fine. Just some ornery flowers not wanting to wait to bloom. I tell you what, give me until tomorrow. I’ll get Ross and you together. It’s what I do, after all!” She sounds breezy and weird, but I’ll take it if she can get Ross to talk to me.
“Deal. What time and where?”
“Hmm, how about if I pick you up? That way, if it goes well, you can just go home with my brother.”
“Shouldn’t my going home to have make-up sex with your brother ick you out?” I say, remembering our earlier conversations about this very subject and finding a bit of my usual sass now that Papa’s okay.
“Ew, you’re right. I have to go bleach my eyes out. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight!” And with a click, she’s gone.
That was so weird, but that’s Abi. And I’m sure her family is going nuclear with the fallout. I’ve tried to stay away from everything, the news, the papers, social media, because I wanted to focus on Papa. But now I wonder just how bad it’s been for Ross.
Pulling into the familiar parking lot, my nerves start jangling all the more. “Abi, where are you taking me?”
“Zip it,” she says from the driver’s seat, her eyes gleaming. “Let me do what I do best. Put this on,” she