Greece only helped. Capo was more relaxed, more at ease, even though I knew he was grieving. Somehow, though, I knew Capo was teaching me how to live (almost through death), and it seemed like it was in honor of something. Though I didn’t know exactly what. Maybe the fact that he had saved my life? And the cost to him, because I knew there had to be one, would be in vain if I didn’t make the most of my time here.
Nonno was a philosophical man. His grandson was, too. I tried to keep up.
Giovanni drove us to Broadway. The show was packed; sold out completely. I waved to Keely’s family as I took my seat. I was so nervous for her that my foot kept tapping against the floor.
Capo squeezed my thigh, stopping me. “Dov'è il tuo rosario?” Where is your rosary? he asked in Italian.
I dug in my clutch and pulled it out. The soft lights made the pearls shimmer against the darkness of my nails as I rubbed a bead between my fingers. He rarely had to remind me to use my rosary to ease my anxiety, but tonight, my mind was running in too many different directions, tearing me apart.
The lights went off completely, the curtain lifted, and the show began. Capo took my hand and we watched.
To say that I was proud would’ve been an understatement. If Keely didn’t make the news with her performance, the entire Broadway community could stuff it, as far as I was concerned. After the show, we were invited backstage. I handed her the flowers I brought and hugged her longer than necessary. She invited Capo and me to dinner with her and her family, but I declined. It was awkward, and the less time spent together, the better.
I noticed that the guy who was at the party at Harrison’s house, the one who went after Keely, was there. Cash. It didn’t seem like Keely wanted to be around him. He’d talk to her and she’d ignore him. When she had to answer him, her answers were clipped.
The entire time, Capo kept his hand on my neck, the one with the tattoo, my hair covering it. It seemed like he did it on purpose, but I wasn’t sure.
I didn’t take an easy breath until we were out of the theatre. The night was hard with cold, and snow fell in flurries. It actually felt good, and I didn’t feel like going straight home. This was the first winter that I didn’t fear my teeth chattering all night.
To buy some time, I suggested we get something to eat. Capo agreed. We walked the streets, his hand still on my neck. The city was decorated with holiday decorations. Thousands of lights were strung up, Santas waved bells from street corners, and windows were decked out with pretty things begging to be bought.
Capo had been quiet most of the night. I wondered what he was thinking about.
I glanced up at him. “You’ve been quiet.”
“Can’t get much talking in during a Broadway show.” The breath rushed out of his mouth in a cloud.
I smiled a little and he pulled me closer. After he did, I felt his grip tighten on my neck, as if he’d seen someone he’d known in a previous life, someone he wanted to avoid. But when I looked up at him again, he was looking at me.
Slowing our strides, I stopped at a window display. It was a bunch of porcelain baby animals. In the center of the scene, an entire Ferris wheel went around and around, all filled with happy little animals in their seats. More little figurines were in motion, rotating in a circle on the ground, like they were at a carnival.
An elephant held a blue balloon. Two giraffes were in a hot air balloon. A tiger flew an airplane with a scarf around his neck. A hippo wore a tutu, holding pink cotton candy. The kicker: a black wolf with its head upturned, a blue butterfly resting on its nose.
The little figures looked like antiques. Maybe French. I could’ve sworn I heard tinkling music coming from behind the glass.
I turned away from the display and toward the man next to me. Snow fell in his hair, on his lashes, and his eyes seemed even bluer. “I’m not just saying this because you’re my husband. You really are the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.” He went beyond attractive, but I didn’t want to sound too girly by calling him beautiful.
His eyes flew to mine. “You’ve complimented me enough tonight.” His voice was rough, like the cold clung to his scar and made it hard for him to talk.
I looked down, the buttons on his coat suddenly catching my attention. I fiddled with one, rubbing it between my fingers. “I’m pregnant, Capo.”
It was hard to meet his eyes. Would he be angry? He told me the choice was mine. I wanted a baby with him. Fine. I didn’t want a baby with him. Fine.
He was quiet for so long that I took a deep, deep breath and then finally looked up. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but what I didn’t expect was how pale he looked all of a sudden. His hands trembled when he touched my face. His eyes looked so…uncertain. I’d never seen that before.
It scared me, but I didn’t want him to see, so I kept talking. “The baby is due in August. The doctor said everything looks good. I was waiting for the perfect time to tell you, but my mind keeps fidgeting, so…”
He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. Without a word, he came in slow and kissed my lips.
That was it. A kiss.
Maybe he was overwhelmed? Even after we started walking again, he didn’t say anything. This pleases me. This fucking sucks. Nothing.
When we got to an expensive Italian restaurant, Dolce, I stopped. Whatever they were cooking inside smelled really, really good. I hadn’t had morning sickness or anything, so when the doctor confirmed that I was pregnant, it was hard to believe. I was worried that my lack of sickness meant that something was wrong. She assured me that pregnancies were as unique as the women who experienced them.
I did have some symptoms, though. Tender breasts. A more sensitive oonie. I needed sex more often to satisfy the craving, which was saying something, because it seemed like that was all we did. Extreme exhaustion, which I had thought was from all the sex, was another symptom. Oh, and some foods smelled so delicious that it was impossible to pass them up.
“What about this place?” I stuck my thumb toward it. “They’re known for—”
“Veal parmigiana.”
I studied his face harder. Was he sweating? In the snow? His voice was lower, even rougher.
“Capo,” I whispered. I took a step closer to him and he took a step back, his eyes turning toward the alley that ran along the side of the restaurant. He narrowed his eyes, like he could see through the darkness. Maybe he could.
Something was wrong, but I had no idea what. “We can go somewhere else,” I said. “We don’t have to eat here.”
A bunch of voices drifted from the alley. Men. Maybe drunk. They were being loud. Obnoxious. Before I could react, Capo had me pressed against the wall of the restaurant, shielding my body with his. He was hurting me, almost crushing me against the wall, but I didn’t make a sound. Instead, I lifted my arms, wrapping them around his neck, trying to hide him.
“Ooh!” One of the men squealed like a woman. “I can’t believe you would do this to me!”
“After she tried to play you and him?” The other man scoffed. “She deserved everything she got.”
“Bobby, you got a cigarette on you?”
When the men grew closer, Capo pressed even harder, and then came down and kissed me, the hand with the tattoo in my hair. As they passed, I could smell whiskey like a fire in the air.