Page 34 of Brutal Vows
“How long were you married?”
“Too fucking long.”
“And how long is that?”
I draw a steadying breath and glance at the ink on my ring finger. It’s black and comforting, a visual reminder of the promise I made to myself that no man would ever own me again.
“Fourteen years.”
“That’s a long time.”
To spend in hell.
Aloud, I say, “It felt longer.”
Neither of us speaks after that for a while. Then he says, “Tell me about the rest of the family.”
“Like what?”
“Like how many of you are there?”
“It’s just me, Mamma, Lili, and Gianni.”
“No grandparents?”
“All dead.”
“Cousins?”
“There’s no one. Just us.”
“I thought all Italian families were big.”
“I thought all Irishmen were drunks.”
He chuckles. “You have a smart comeback for everything, don’t you?”
“It’s easy to win a war of words when your opponent is a donkey.”
Surprised by how viciously that came out, I look up at Quinn. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
But he doesn’t seem offended at all. He’s chuckling again, shaking his head.
“Why are you laughing?”
“I’ve been called a lot of things, but a donkey’s a first.”
I’m taken aback by his reaction. If Enzo were sitting in his place, my jaw would already be broken.
“Well… it’s not that it’s untrue. I just shouldn’t have said it.”
He laughs harder.
Despite my utter hatred for him, I smile.
My smile fades when he rises from his chair, crosses to the wine fridge, and removes another bottle.
“What are you doing?”
