Page 37 of That's Amore

Since I’d been distracted all evening, Maura insisted we have a nightcap at the bar after closing.

She knew I’d met with Dante, which meant she also knew it probably hadn’t gone well.

She was right.

The proof, as they say, was in the pudding because I was a mess. Worse, I was a walking, talking cliché—the woman who wanted to believe her ex had changed but was too afraid to trust it. Because Dante had seemed sincere, and I desperately wanted to believe him.

But deep down, a voice whispered that this could all be manipulation—that he would reel me back in, hold me close, and then discard me the second it was societally polite.

I poured Maura and me a burnt butter amaro we’drecently acquired. The rich, caramelized scent curled into the air as it hit the glass.

She untied the colorful bandana she always wore in the kitchen, shaking out her blonde hair as she casually settled onto a barstool.

“So?” she prompted as she picked up her glass.

We clinked our little glasses.

“I’m assuming your mood is because of Dante and not because you ran into a wine critic with bad taste?” she teased.

I chuckled. “You know Don Giordano is getting that civilian honor thing?”

Maura nodded, sipping her drink.

I stroked a finger around the edge of my glass. “He wants me to come to Piedmont.”

“You loved his grandfather, Elysa, so what’s the problem?”

“As his wife.” I scowled. “So, we can have another debacle like that awful charity gala thing. And his lawyers arestilllooking at the divorce papers. I mean, how the fuck long does that take? It’s been six weeks.”

Maura made a sound that was somewhere between amused and thoughtful. “It’s almost like he doesn’t want to divorce you.”

My heart soared. Then I remembered how he had just talked down to me, and hope crashed as it was meant to.

“Doesn’t he understand how hard this is for me? I’m in love with the bastard, and he’s toying with me,” Icomplained bitterly. “It’s like he’s compartmentalized me as duty and Lucia as…whatever.”

Maura patted my hand. “Drink up, sweetheart, because it sounds like it’s going to be a long night for you.”

I downed the amaro, and Maura refilled our glasses.

“So, are you going?”

I hesitated. “I don’t know.”

Maura rolled her eyes. “Of course, you’re going. You adored Don Giordano. Don’t let Dante ruin that for you.”

“But…I don’t want to play wife.”

“Then don’t.” Maura twirled her glass. “You’re not going for Dante. You’re going for his Nonno.”

Deep down, I knew I was always going to go. Don Giordano was important to me, and I wanted to honor him.

“But that’s not the problem, is it?” she surmised correctly.

I shook my head. “Ilikeplaying his wife,” I admitted sadly.

“I know.”

“You think he’s sleeping with Lucia?”

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