Page 30 of My Italian Roommate

EXTENDED EPILOGUE

MALLORY

Ihurry to get the kids dressed as Mario paces a hole in the living room floor.

“We shouldn’t have agreed to this. What were we thinking?” he shouts.

“It’s going to be fine. You’ll see,” I yell back.

It’s been ten years since my husband retired from Formula One racing. He’s been invited to participate in a “Where are they now?” series for the sports network. When the producer found out Mario married and had a family, she insisted that we all participate in the segment. At first, I didn’t know how I felt about putting my children in the spotlight, but my husband’s legacy in the sport is important. Even more so considering that it was once almost taken away thanks to the infamous Dylan McGee.

The children look beautiful in the outfits I bought just for this occasion. Macy, who is five years old, looks like a doll in her white, satin dress with a royal blue sash. Mario Jr., who is three, is just dapper in his blue suit with a white shirt and tie. Baby Martine, who is named after Mario’s grandmother, looks like an angel in a tinier version of her big sister's dress.

I get the kids settled on the sofa just as the production crew arrives. “Last chance to get out of this. We can lock the door and pretend we aren’t home.”

“Then they’ll knock at the main house and your mother will come and get us. It’s going to be fine. You deserve to have your day in the sun. Without you, the show would be incomplete.”

“What happened to my camera-shy little girl?” Mario asks, kissing me on the forehead.

“Oh, I’m still terrified, believe me, but I know that this is the right thing to do.”

I try my best to keep the children in place as the camera crew sets up and the reporter takes his place in the chair across from us.

“Everyone just relax and be yourselves. The interview will only take a few minutes then we’ll scout out a few areas to film the footage we’ll use while the narrator is speaking.

He spends the first few minutes asking Mario about retirement and introducing me and the kids, and then he moves on to some questions about Mario’s career. I hold my breath as I wait for the inevitable questions about Dylan McGee and the man who assaulted me.

“Let’s talk about the altercation that you had with then-rival driver Dylan McGee. That fight cost you the chance to race in the finals and could have ended your career. Looking back on it now that you’re a little older and a family man, do you regret that fateful night and how you handled things?”

Mario takes a deep breath, squeezes my hand, and says, “You see this magnificent woman beside me? She captured my heart the moment I laid eyes on her. From that moment on, it became my job to protect her. Dylan McGee behaved inappropriately toward her and I would not allow that. As an older man with a family, I would respond to that situation in exactly the same way. No man will ever place his hands on my wife, ever. So, no, I don’t regret how I handled the situation that night. I only regret that there are men out there who think it’s okay to make passes on women who don’t belong to them. When you interview Dylan McGee, ask him if he regrets it. He might tell you yes but it will be a lie. If it wasn’t for that night, he would never have won a championship race.”

“So, your wife is also the woman who the crazed Dylan McGee fan accosted at the closing gala that year? “

“Yes, she is.”

“That must have been a terrifying thing for you, Mrs. Marcetti. That was the night that restored your reputation with the racing fans as I remember. You were considered a hero.”

“I don’t think I did anything heroic. I did what every man should do. I protected my woman.”

“And as a result, you have a beautiful family. Congratulations,” the reporter says and the cameras cut.

“Okay, that was great. We’re going to poke around outside and we’ll call you when we’re ready for you,” the reporter tells us.

When he leaves the room, Mario asks, “So, how was I?”

I take his arm and brush his hair to the side, “You were great. I loved your answer about that night with Dylan. Did I really capture your heart the moment you met me?”

“You know you had me wrapped around your little finger. I mean, the fact that you were naked didn’t hurt,” he grins.

“Let’s not forget that you were naked, too.”

“Oh, you’re right. I forgot to tell that to the reporter. I should go tell him.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He leans in and kisses me, “I wouldn’t dare. If I did, he’d instantly start imagining you naked and I’d have to punch him too. We don’t want to start that vicious cycle again.”

“He would not.”

---