“Lonely,” Mira piped in.
“Yeah.”
“You’d think you would appreciate the break from the relentless texts from everyone and Mom’s calls telling you that she gave your number to her hairdresser’s son. Who is gay, mind you. It was the first thing he told me when he called out of familial obligation.”
“Well, at least she can say one of her kids is married now,” I said, shaking my head.
“Hey, she’s not happy about it, Bells. She wanted you to settle down, but not like this.”
“You know, it could be worse. I mean, I don’t know how to put this. But like… I could have ended up married to someone I loved and who I thought loved me, then found out he was disrespecting me by screwing everything that walked while I was home raising his kids.”
“I mean, but Primo…”
“Is actually surprisingly a traditionalist about marriage. He doesn’t believe in cheating.”
“Even if you aren’t sleeping with him?” Mira asked, dubious.
“Even then, he claims.”
“Interesting. But are you going to?” she asked.
“Sleep with him?” I clarified.
“Yeah.”
“Some day, I am going to have to,” I told her. “I want kids.”
“I mean, I can think of worse guys to share a bed with. Plus, that man has the most BDE I’ve ever seen.”
“BDE?”
“Big-dick-energy,” Mira told me.
“Oh, ah, yeah, I guess.” I mean, he totally had a big dick, but I didn’t want to tell her how I knew that. “How is everyone?” I asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from Primo and our future sex life. “Emilio?” I asked, wincing.
“Emilio is treating the whole situation like it is his fault,” Mira told me. “He’s been in a bit of a dark place lately, to be honest.”
It was hard to picture Emilio in a dark place. He was usually the lightest of all of us, never taking life—or even work—too seriously. I guess the older brother in a large family had to learn to adopt an easy-going demeanor to survive the chaos his younger siblings brought along with them.
“It’s not his fault. Tell him I said that. I will tell him when I get to see him too, but you tell him now.”
“I will, but you know how the Costa men are.”
Stubborn.
Our other brother, Anthony, had relentlessly chased a spot in the Family at only eighteen years old when Lorenzo took over for his father after his death. Despite all of us begging him to take some time, to live his life, maybe to go to college for that experience. He was dead-set on a life in the Family. And that was exactly what he got.
“And Mom?”
“Mom is flip-flopping between forced optimism and low moods. I think she will feel better when she hears I got to speak to you, and can confirm that you aren’t being abused in any way. The thing I don’t get is, if you are being treated okay, why aren’t you allowed to contact us?”
“Well, you know the famous Costa men’s stubbornness?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, imagine that ten-fold for the Esposito men.” Mira made a disgusted sound that had me smiling. “Exactly. I guess he’s worried that I might try to stage a plan to run. But I agreed to this. And even if it takes some adjustment, I am happy to be able to be a part of ending all the feuding between the families.”
“I should have thought of sneaking you in a cell phone. I honestly didn’t think I would get to see you face-to-face or I would have thought of it.”
“Maybe if we can prove that you’re not trying to steal me, or hatch some plan to overthrow the treaty, Primo will be more open to you visiting on occasion. Maybe even bringing Mom. Emilio and the others will likely be a hard sell, but I’m sure we will get there eventually.”
“So I have to play by the rules,” Mira grumbled.
“I know. It’s hard for you,” I agreed, smiling. “But for now, yeah.”
“I’m not apologizing for threatening that asshole, though.”
“I don’t think anyone expects you to. For all their flaws, the Esposito men don’t seem wholly opposed to loud-mouthed and opinionated women. If anything, Primo gets pissy if I don’t mouth off to him. He really hates the silent treatment. Though, I had to agree to stop doing that if I want to see you.”
“Small sacrifice. So what was the wedding like?”
“Rushed,” I told her. “But he had a dress and shoes and flowers,” I said, waving over toward the dining room table.
“And they’re still looking that good?” she asked, dubious, making my gaze shoot over to realize, no, of course not. He must have had them replaced. And seeing as he didn’t strike me as a man who wanted fresh flowers in the home for himself—least of all my favorite kind of flower—he’d clearly done so for me.
That was kind of thoughtful, right?
Even if he didn’t bring them personally, he’d thought to tell someone else to. Even when I was giving him the silent treatment.
“And a ring?” Mira asked.
Unlike me, she’d never been marriage-crazy. In fact, she scoffed at the whole institution and broke our mother’s heart by declaring she was never going to get married.
“Yeah,” I said, holding out my hand.
“You know I’m not a jewelry kind of girl, but this is pretty amazing.”
It was, actually. I found myself looking down at it often, running my finger over the stones in anxious moments.
“Your nails are a wreck, though.”
“I’ve been putting it off. I’ve dragged Dulles and Dawson to so many stores already. I was giving them a break from the girly shit.”
“Those are the brothers, right?”
“Twins. But a different mom from Primo, Due, and Terzo. I haven’t really figured out more than that.”
“What with the whole not speaking to your husband thing,” Mira said, nodding.
“Yeah.”
“I’m starting to think you got a kind of sweet deal, all in all,” Mira said. “You get to live in this fancy-ass apartment, spend all his money, not work, and you don’t even have to fuck him?”
“Well, I will eventually,” I reminded her. “He does want an heir.”
“Okay, well, don’t hate me, but would it really be a hardship to fuck him? He’s almost annoyingly attractive.”
“I don’t know. Maybe the dynamic will improve, and I’ll feel differently over time. It’s all new,” I added.
“Yeah. And you’re young. There’s time. I just hope that you get some more freedom soon. Sunday dinner has felt so weird without you there.”
“And by that you mean Mom is trying to force you to learn to cook finally since I am not there to help out.”
“Listen, it was your job as the first daughter to learn all that shit. Now you have abandoned us, and I’m learning all sorts of crap about sauces and pasta shapes that I never really ever wanted to know.”
“Hey, it would be nice to be able to feed yourself once in a while,” I told her, knowing she was a chronic order-in or take-out woman. I’d never seen someone with more menus than she had. The only items in her fridge were sauces to go along with whatever she’d ordered in, soda, and some ice cream in the freezer. That was my sister. And I was a little sad that I didn’t get to be around to watch our mom boss her around the kitchen while she got more and more frazzled by the second.