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The way Lucia put it, how could I blame Elysa forthinking I was banging Lucia? How could I blame Giulia for assuming I was keeping a mistress?
I couldn’t because the blame lay squarely with me.
I had been oblivious to the insult I was handing my wife—spending high-profile events like the charity ball with Lucia at my side instead of Elysa, traveling with Lucia, dining at restaurants with her.
I had thought it was innocuous—we were always talking about work.
Though, if I was being honest, I didn’t think I ate out with Lucia more than I did with Elysa. We had our evenings together where we shared meals, talked, and existed in an easy kind of silence at the flat. We both enjoyed that, until I screwed it up and my wife wasn’t in my flat anymore.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? It had always beenmyflat. Notours.
No wonder she had been happy to leave. It had never been home to her.
My mistakes kept piling because I was a moron who’d made several of them.
But now, looking at the situation in its entirety, it was painfully obvious. I had majorly fucked up.
“So…are you getting a divorce?” she asked hesitantly.
I pushed my office chair and rose, feeling frustrated. “Why would you think that?” I asked sharply.
She frowned. “Because…well, like I said, Elysa was seen with Carmen?—
“Yes, fine. Elysa asked for a divorce, but….”
“But?” she prompted.
“But I don’t think I want that.”
“Why does she…has she met someone or…maybe you did?” Lucia mused.
“No,” I snapped and then lowered my volume because it wasn’t Lucia’s fault that I was feeling testy about my wife fucking another man. “I believe in monogamy, and Elysa has too much integrity to commit adultery.” Besides, she’s crazy about me.
Was, Dante, shewascrazy about you. Now, she thinks you are the crazy man who won’t divorce her.
“Yes, but if you feel that this wasn’t arealmarriage because it was arranged….”
“My marriage is as real as it gets.” This time, irritation seeped into my words
“I’m sorry, Dante.” She rose, obviously hurt. I saw tears swimming in her eyes and felt terrible. “I’ll stay out of your?—”
“No, I’m sorry, Lucia. I’m just in a lousy mood.”
“I understand.” Lucia patted my hand. “If you need to talk, let me know. Not as your employee but as a friend.”
“Grazie, Lucia.”
After she left, I slumped in my chair. My phone buzzed, and I immediately opened it. It was a message from Elysa:I’ll come to Piedmont. Will make arrangements with Giulia.
My shitty day had just gotten better.
FOURTEEN
Elysa
Seeing your husband—the man you loved yet had asked for a divorce—talk and laugh with the woman he wished would be his wife was its own special kind of torture.
The Frecciarossa train hummed beneath us, gliding smoothly through the Italian countryside. Golden fields and olive groves blurred in the distance.