“You’re so busy honoring her memory and protecting the image of her you have in your mind that you don’t realize how badly you’re treating me. You lost your first wife through no fault of your own, but you will be losing me because you can’t let go of her.”
Dante stared at me, completely frozen. The myriad of emotions in his eyes was impossible to read, and I was too tired to bother. I walked past him and he didn’t try to stop me. He didn’t move at all. “I’ll move into the guest bedroom. There isn’t enough room in our bedroom for me and the memories of your past. If you ever decide you want to give this marriage a chance, then you can come to me and apologize for what you said. Until then, I’m done with us.”
I hurried up the staircase. Dante didn’t try to follow me. The guest bedrooms were always prepared for guests. I slipped into the first, glad when the door shut behind me. I crept into bed. Maybe I’d sealed the fate of my marriage today, but I couldn’t go back to how things had been. I’d rather have a clean cut. Of course I couldn’t divorce Dante and he would never allow it, not that I wanted to, but we could lead completely separate lives despite being married. Many couples in our world did it. We’d go about our days like before, sleep in separate beds and play the married couple in public. We’d have to raise our children together, but most men took a backseat in these matters anyway. Eventually Dante would start frequenting Club Palermo or find a mistress like so many Made Men did, and I would focus all of my energy on taking care of our children. Many women had it worse, and yet the idea that I’d just painted my future made me sick, but I couldn’t pretend Dante hadn’t said those horrible things to me.
It was out of my hands now. Dante had to decide if he wanted to live in the past or move on into a future with me.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dante didn’t apologize. Not the day after our fight, and not in the weeks after it. Maybe it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. I went to my ten-week check-up to the gynecologist with Bibi. I didn’t even tell Dante about it. If he wanted to ignore the fact that I was pregnant, that was his problem.
One week after the appointment, Dante’s sister Ines and her husband Pietro came to visit us. I had only seen Ines twice since the wedding as she’d given birth to her third child four weeks ago. Zita had made dinner as I was too tired most of the time.
“Can I hold her?” I asked, when Ines lifted her daughter out of the car seat. She searched my face, then handed the baby to me, who had little spittle bubbles in front of her lips and looked too adorable for words. The twins were bickering in the background but I couldn’t take my eyes of the squishy girl in my arm. I carried her into the living room, cooing to her. When I glanced up, Dante was watching me with something close to warmth in his eyes. I lowered my gaze immediately. Later after dinner, Ines and I went into the library to talk while the men and the twins stayed in the living room. Ines began nursing her daughter, then fixed me with a knowing look. “You are pregnant, aren’t you?”
“How did you know? We didn’t tell anybody yet.” Not that I didn’t want to but it was Dante’s decision if he wanted to make it public.
“You didn’t drink any wine during dinner and you kept touching your stomach.”
I flushed. “I wasn’t aware it was that obvious.”
“Probably not to a man. You aren’t showing yet.”
“Please don’t tell your parents about it. I don’t think Dante wants people to know.”
Ines shifted her daughter because she was too fussy to latch on properly. “Why not?” It strange to think that this would be me in less than a year.
I shrugged.
“Are you two having problems? Isn’t he happy that you’re pregnant?”
“I think he needs time to get used to the idea.”
“He did something stupid, didn’t he? He’s my brother. I know he can be stubborn.”
“Stubborn doesn’t even begin to describe it. Has he ever apologized to you when he did something wrong?”
Ines laughed. “No. Sometimes I think he can’t speak the actual words. Most of the time he tries to ignore the problem until I give up and don’t expect an apology from him anymore.”
That sounded familiar.
“The anniversary of Carla’s death is in one week.”
“Oh,” I said, freezing. I’d completely forgotten about that.
“I just thought you should know. Dante is always in a particularly bad mood on that day. Maybe you should try to avoid him.”
That wouldn’t be a problem.