“If I might…”
I prepared myself for a lecture. Maybe a whole rosary this time around. We’d been talking about Nina for months, and Father Deflorio knew—maybe better than anyone—that my thoughts weren’t any closer to salvation-worthy than they were when we started.
“Spend some time revisiting your catechism. Go home. Review Part Three, Section Two on the Ninth Commandment.”
“You got a page number there for me, Father?” I teased. “Maybe a line?”
“Matthew.”
“Sorry, sorry. No, you’re right. I’ll give it some thought.”
“Really consider it. Sit with God’s Word. Try to remember: the problem isn’t with her, Matthew. It’s in your distance from His decree. There is an emptiness in a Godless life that you’re looking to fill with her instead. But it won’t work.”
Was that the problem? Sin begets sin, so it just made me want to sin more? Like sugar or cocaine?
I frowned. If that were the case, it shouldn’t matter who was under the sheets with me. Caitlyn or any of the other practically nameless women I’d been seeking out lately, trying to fill this void. Anyone should have sufficed. Nina should have become nameless too.
Yeah, I wasn’t convinced that void was caused by a lack of God in my life. But then again, I wasn’t exactly an authority on the matter.
“You got it, Father. Thank you.”
“Also, five Hail Marys this time, Matthew.”
I smirked, though he couldn’t see me. I knew he wouldn’t let me off with just the standard three. “Thanks, Father.”
“Anything else, Matthew?”
“No, that’s it.” I murmured the Act of Contrition I’d had memorized since I was a kid.
“Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.”
“For His mercy endures forever.” I crossed myself again. “I’ll see you at Mass.”
“Very well. But, Matthew?”
I stopped just before opening the confessional door. “Yeah, Father?”
“For Heaven’s sake, son, don’t go to that dinner.”
I swallowed. I couldn’t lie to a priest. Not right after cleansing my immortal soul. But at the same time, I wouldn’t make a promise I couldn’t keep either.
“I’ll think about it,” I said and left the chamber to another hopeful sinner.
Chapter Eight
“Why do you always wear a hat, Nonno?”
I sat on the end of my bed, kicking my feet back and forth while my grandfather got ready for his date. That’s right, my stodgy old grandparents still had “dates.” It was a custom in our family to watch them go through the motions every week. Get ready. Get “picked up.” Escort each other to dinner at Tino’s or, if Nonno got good tips that week, maybe to a show.
Nonna was upstairs with my sisters—females needed more space, Nonno would say. And he was right. I had snuck up there once before to see for myself all the crap the girls used to get themselves together. Razors and nylons and something called a girdle that looked like a restraining device. Kate said it was to make Nonna look skinny, but I didn’t understand why that was needed. She was only five feet tall, could fit into one of Nonno’s pant legs.
Nonno kept his stuff in my room for this reason. I watched from the bed while he slapped on his aftershave and combed oil through his salt-and-pepper hair until it shone almost black again. Then he put on his clothes and transformed himself from the humble chauffeur into the swanky man I’d seen in his wedding pictures.
Undershirt, over-shirt, socks, pants.
“Two shirts!” I exclaimed the first time I watched him. “What the heck do you need two shirts for, Nonno? Aren’t you hot?”
“I’m not a heathen,” he’d said. “She don’t need to see my nipples through, capito?”
Tie, tie clip, vest, handkerchief. Shoes I could see my reflection in, then jacket. It took a lot of clothes to look as good as my grandfather.
“A gentleman always wears a hat, Matthew,” he said, his faint Neapolitan accent thicker after an extra negroni. “You go out without a hat, you look like a farmer. Like you’re just getting off work. You want to show the girl you love you don’t care about how she sees you? Love is respect, Matthew. You remember that.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the hostess said again. “I really can’t seat you until your entire party has arrived.”
I checked my watch—it was my good one, my grandfather’s Rolex that I only brought out on special occasions. I already felt like an idiot. This was supposed to be a casual dinner, but somehow I’d still managed to wear the new suit I’d picked up from my tailor yesterday and get a fresh shave after work before heading into the city. All dolled up and no one to meet.
Nina was late. Thirty minutes, to be exact—long enough that I was starting to wonder if she was going to show at all. It had taken every ounce of charm I had to stop the hostess from giving up our table fifteen minutes ago. Farina wasn’t the most stylish restaurant in New York, but this was Friday night. Everywhere was either booked or busy, and there was a throng of people waiting on the sidewalk.
“She’s going to be here any minute,” I lied before turning on my best charm offensive. “If she doesn’t, maybe you can join me, sweetheart.”
Cheesy, sure. But it still worked. I couldn’t lose this table.
“Sir…” The hostess, a pretty young thing with curly hair and freckles, giggled.
“Come on,” muttered one of the customers waiting behind me.
I ignored them and winked at the hostess. “Do me a favor, honey? Five more minutes. If she doesn’t show, you can give these jokers our table and I’ll buy you a drink when your shift is up.”
“My. I didn’t know I was so replaceable.”
The hostess’s grin disappeared at the sound of Nina’s voice. I swung around to find the crowd had parted around her like the Red Sea. And why not? The woman was a vision of light in a parade of black.
“Did you expect me to eat alone, doll?”
She examined me a moment more, then relaxed her shoulders. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m sorry I’m late. The traffic across town was absolutely terrible. Thirty-Fourth was a parking lot.”
“Should’ve taken the train. I’ll stand with the rats if it saves me twenty minutes.”
Nina wrinkled her long nose. I wondered if she had ever actually been inside the subway system.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“Think nothing of it.” I leaned in to kiss her cheek. “And no one could replace you, doll.”
There was a slight hum in recognition. The faint scent of roses washed over me.
“I’ll show you to your table, sir.”
I stepped aside to let Nina pass and give myself a minute to recover—well, as much as I could watching her sway through the restaurant. She turned more than a few heads just by her grace. It wasn’t the color—again, she wasn’t wearing any, just a simple coat a few shades lighter than sand, which she handed to the hostess to reveal a cream-colored dress with bell-shaped sleeves. Nothing fancy, nothing flashy, other than a few diamonds glinting at her ears and another hanging from her neck. And, of course, the rock on her finger. But everything was subtly perfect. There wasn’t a golden hair out of place.