Page 43 of The Celtic Resolution
“Fuck you, you asshole! Take a proper picture!”
“Alright, alright. Pose again.”
She does, but I don’t take the picture. My finger hovers over the button but before I can press it, my father walks in.
The air immediately feels thinner and Mary’s smile wavers as she shoots me a nervous look. “Dad! I thought you were out at the wedding venue today.”
“Sarah’s decided she’s handling it,” Domenico replies as he approaches Mary. He clasps her shoulder and presses a brief kiss to her cheek. “So I thought we could get dinner.”
My heart’s racing painfully fast as he doesn’t even look my way. He doesn’t even care that Mary is clearly in the middle of something with me. He’s here now and that’s all that matters. My gut tightens when Mary glances at me, uncertain and her phone suddenly feels heavy in my hands.
“Hi dad,” I say.
No response.
“Dad,” Mary says quietly. “Aren’t you going to say hi to Bruno?”
For the first time since the Gala, he glances at me for half a second with eyes that hold nothing but contempt. I suddenly feel like I’m eighteen again ready to do everything and anything just for some sort of response for him. That deep, primal urge for approval from my father rises up like a sickness and it doesn’t matter how much I survived in prison, or how strong I built myself up.
In his shadow, I’m just a kid wondering why his father holds no love for him.
“Bruno.” He says my name like it tastes foul in his mouth.
Mary’s face hardens. “I don’t want dinner. Bruno is here helping me and you should join us.”
“No,” Domenico says immediately. “I don’t have time to wait around for your silly games.”
“They’re not games,” she snaps. “I’m trying on dresses and Bruno is helping me pick the best one. Your opinion would be great as well, by the way.”
“This dress looks beautiful, but anything looks beautiful on you Mary,” he says, his smile returning. “You don’t need to worry about anything else.”
“It might not make sense to you, but you’ve never been a woman in your early twenties that people still look at like you’re a child because some psychopath tried to kill you!”
An uneasy silence falls and then, to my surprise, Domenico nods. “You’re right,” he says. “Take your time. Choose your dress. Then we will go to dinner.”
Mary’s face lights up. “Together?”
“Just us.”
That light snuffs out immediately.
I watch it all while rooted to the spot, racking my brains for anything to say but nothing comes. All the times I rehearsed what I would say the next time we were face to face were useless. My mind is blank.
“Probably wise,” I say, flashing Mary a smile. “Having all the Del Prete’s in one place would hardly quell the rumors.”
My father’s shoulders subtly freeze as Mary peers at me with a frown. “What rumors?”
“Don’t worry, just somedarkrumblings. You know how suspicious the underworld gets. One name and anything goes.” My mouth is running away with itself as nervous energy pours through me like lava. I don’t know why I’m taunting him with such information as if there’s any chance it will get a reaction out of him.
He’d likely just have me killed.
“Mary, why don’t you hurry along and try on the next dress?”
Her eyes dart between us. “This is the last one.”
“Well I haven’t seen the others.”
“Yes you have. Last week.”
