Page 29 of Broken Mafia Bride

Paolo makes a face. “Ew, stop flirting. You’re going to make me lose my appetite.”

“If you showered more than once a week, maybe you’d have a girl now, and you wouldn’t be so bitter watching other people flirt,” Sienna quips.

Red rises on his cheeks. “I have a girlfriend, as a matter of fact.”

Noemi lets out a giggle, and the entire table bursts into laughter. The teenager shrugs with a sheepish grin. “Whatever. I’ve just never really clicked with American girls. I guess I’m a bit old-school.”

“Unless you plan on moving back to Italy on your own, you’d better start clicking,” I say, wagging my fork at him.

“If Marco had gone back to Sardegna when he was supposed to, Paolo could’ve moved in with him and started high school there,” Sienna adds, her mouth half-full of meatballs.

I blink, confused. “What do you mean,when he was supposed to? I didn’t know he was…” I trail off, lost for words, while the doc glances between Marco and me, wide-eyed.

“Oh my god, you didn’t know, did you?”

I glance over at Marco, who’s doing his best to look casual, but casts a scowl at Sienna, who I’m looking at now. “It’s not a big deal.”

She mouths, “Sorry,”and looks at him with the eyes she uses when she annoys him. Which is almost every other day with them.

I turn back to Marco. “What is she talking about?”

He sighs. “It’s really nothing, Ari…”

“Tell me,” I ask, my tone firmer.

My stomach tightens. I don’t know what I expect him to say, but something about the way he won’t meet my eyes tells me it’s going to change things.

“I extended my stay here for a while so I could help you settle in. As I said, not a big deal.”

“For a while is how long?”

“Giulia—”

He’s the only one who slips and calls me by my real name—and only when it’s something serious. Or something he knows I need to hear.

“Just tell me,” I insist.

His eyes search mine, silence falling over the table. Eventually, he releases a breath. “Two years.”

Oh. My heart tightens in my chest, and I manage to keep my expression blank through sheer force of will. On the inside, though, a mix of emotions rushes through me.

Shock, guilt, confusion, panic.

How could he make such a decision without even telling me? I know that he’s a grown man and he can technically do whatever he wants, but it still feels like I deserved to know about this.

I never would have supported him staying back here for us. I’m sure I’d have been fine with just the Amatos. Or maybe not, I think, as memories of sleepless nights with him flash throughmy head. But extending his stay by a few days is one thing; extending it by two whole years is a whole different thing.

“Later,” he whispers low enough for me to hear, squeezing my knee, and I nod.

I spend the rest of dinner playing around with my food and pretending to be a part of the conversation. I’m relieved when Sienna offers to put my daughter to bed, and Marco offers to clean up and do the dishes.

“Just listen to him, okay?” Mr. Amato squeezes my shoulder as he walks past me.

I try to smile, but it doesn’t quite form. “I will.”

As soon as I hear the front door shut, I make my way to the kitchen where Marco is stacking up the last of the dishes. I lean against the kitchen island, gnawing at my lip while thinking about how best to express what I want to say.

“I can hear your thoughts from all the way over here,” he sighs, turning around to face me. “So why don’t you just say your piece?”