Page 17 of Loss and Damages

A table that seats eight, maybe ten, is positioned near the orchestra, and a woman sitting alone, her hair as black as Dominic’s, her skin a glowing olive and lips painted a deep, dark red, turns her head to look at us as we approach.

Her dark eyes frost over when she sees Dominic, but her lips start to tremble when she sets her sights on me.

“That’s your mother?”

“Yes.”

“She’s gorgeous.”

“She is.”

His hold on my arm tightens until it’s painful, but we come to a stop in front of Mrs. Milano and he releases me.

Luscious strains of the violins float over us, and just as elegantly, Mrs. Milano flows to her feet and holds out her hand.

“Mama, this is Jemma Ferrell. Jemma, this is Athena Milano.”

She grips my hand, a huge diamond glittering on her ring finger.

“Jemma, may I call you that? It’s a pleasure to meet you.

Leo didn’t tell us he was seeing someone before, he, he—” She stops, inhales, and forces a smile.

“You’re very pretty. I can see why my son would be taken with you.

” She glares at Dominic, her eyes glittering with, I want to call it hate, but that couldn’t be, could it? “Leave us.”

His shoulders hunch. “I’ll come back for you,” he tells me and simply walks away.

“Oh, that wasn’t necessary—” I start, but Mrs. Milano shakes her head.

“I want to speak to you privately. Please, sit down. Would you like a drink? Champagne, or something stronger?”

“Champagne is fine, thank you.”

I sit next to her at the large table, the place settings sophisticated and refined, consisting of so many utensils my head spins.

As if by magic, a waiter stops by our table carrying a tray of sparkling champagne flutes and serves us without saying one word.

I try a sip of the crisp, fizzy liquid and wait for Mrs. Milano to initiate a conversation, but she seems content enough to look at me, trying to study me without appearing to do so.

She’s not successful and I finally turn in my chair to face her.

If I hadn’t had a clue as to how old she is, I would have guessed her twenty years younger.

Her face is unlined, though I do see the pain Dominic spoke of.

Leo’s death, while she’s trying to hide it, has affected her.

I cover her hand with mine. “I’m sorry about Leo. It was devastating to hear of his accident.”

“You’re straightforward. I like that. There is little time for ambiguity.

” An accent touches her speech, and I wonder if English is her second language.

“Leo was my baby and he took my heart with him when he passed away. These few days have gone by in a cloud of sadness. Sometimes I feel I cannot keep going without him.”

“I felt that way when I first heard, and then after, when I attended his wake. Mrs. Milano—”

“Athena, please, Jemma.”

“Athena, Leo celebrated every little thing. From the sun shining behind a grey cloud to an excellent glass of wine. The last thing he would want is for us to waste what little time we have left on this earth mourning him. I have to believe that or there’s no way I can keep living.”

“You knew my son. Dominic says you and Leo were seeing each other. He never told us about you, never asked me if I wanted to meet you. Were you in love?”

“We were friends.”

“And lovers.” She doesn’t turn it into a question.

“No. We were friends, nothing more. We liked spending time together, without judgment or conditions. I never cared he had money, he never cared I didn’t.

What we had went beyond material things like that.

Leo was very passionate about helping people, about the state of the world.

I think I fed that fire, and I was happy to do it.

He wouldn’t have cared about this fundraiser, the money.

Yes, it’s needed, but this isn’t where Leo would have spent his time.

To truly help the homeless, he volunteered in the shelters, cooking meals, mopping floors.

Things like that mattered to him, not this. ”

“You are a very wise woman, and you would have made my son a good wife.”

I’m not so sure about that. There is no meeting in the middle when one half of a couple is more affluent than the other.

I couldn’t give up my gallery. I may not have the funds to help people on this grand of scale, but the artists I sell in my shop depend on their earnings.

I adore living in my grandma’s cottage and I love living near Hollow Lake.

Would I give all that up for love? For the right man, I could meet in the middle, but Leo wasn’t for me and Dominic doesn’t compromise.

I smile and shrug. “Perhaps.”

“Tell me about your days with him,” she says, and we pass an hour or more trading stories about Leo, giving each other the gift of our dearest memories.

We sit through dinner, and there is no sign of Dominic.

I’m afraid to mention him to Athena. There’s obviously bad blood between them, Leo clearly her favorite son.

That must have been hard on Dominic. I can’t imagine how I would have felt if my mother had favored Jeremy over me and let me find out about it, or no, worse yet, made me feel like it was my fault.

Athena introduces me to a few people and they express their condolences which she accepts graciously, but most of the guests don’t approach our table, instead glancing at her out of the corners of their eyes and whispering behind their hands.

I’d like to give them the benefit of the doubt as it’s difficult to talk to someone who just lost a loved one, but I’m also willing to bet that for some it’s plain old fear keeping them away from our table.

Athena Milano lives up to her name.

Crisply dressed waiters serve dessert, and I sample the chocolate mousse. It’s decadent, just like everything else here. Athena pushes her dish away.

People are starting to leave, and I’m going to miss my chance if I want to know what happened between her and Dominic.

“Athena, can I ask you something?” I need courage, and I gulp my wine.

“Of course, Jemma. I will tell you anything you want to know.”

“It’s about Dominic. You don’t— I mean, you favored Leo. Why?”

“Dominic belongs to his father.” She stiffens, and an ugly grimace mars her beautiful face.

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you have children?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then I will have a difficult time explaining. My husband loved me when he married me, that much is true. I never loved him, though many said to give it time. Our marriage brought together two strong families. I did my part for mine, as he did for his.”

I blink. “An arranged marriage? That doesn’t happen anymore.”

“It wasn’t that black and white. I was raised with the.

..hope I would marry Raphael Milano, but at university I fell in love with another man.

He wanted to run away and elope but just as I was about to agree, my father had a heart attack.

It was then I realized that my life had never belonged to me, and that summer I married Raphael. ”

“Did your father live?”

Athena smiles, but it doesn’t light her face. “Yes. He walked me down the aisle. I hated my husband for stealing my life away from me, and when I became pregnant with Dominic, I wanted nothing to do with him. Raphael raised him, molded him into the man he wanted him to be.”

“You made Dominic grow up without a mother’s love.” Sadness burns in my throat for the man who asked me to attend this fundraiser as a kindness to his mother.

“I tried, but when I held him, I felt nothing.”

“When Leo was born, what changed?”

“That is something I am not at liberty to tell you. I’m sorry, Jemma.

” She holds my hand and cups my cheek. “You are a beautiful young lady and it’s no mystery why Leo loved you.

Perhaps not in the way I believed, but even so, as friends.

Live your life by no one else’s rules, dear one.

I should have eloped. I often dream of how my life would be had I followed my heart. I’ll never know. Goodnight.”

Athena stands and walks across the floor, and people part to let her by. Two hulky men join her and usher her out the ballroom doors.

I sit alone at the table as the room empties.

Dominic disappeared and I’ll have to hail a cab to Jeremy’s, spend the night, and ask Tara to drive me home in the morning. The snub hurts, but it’s to be expected. I made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with him or his family after tonight and he beat me to it.

It’s fine. It’s easier to cut ties. Leo’s secret is safe and I shouldn’t feel guilty about that.

I ask a waiter where the restrooms are, and he points across the ballroom and directs me down a hallway that I didn’t notice when Dominic and I arrived.

An attendant is sitting just inside the door, and after I relieve myself, wash my hands and reapply my lipstick, I tip her five dollars and feel strange doing it.

I worry that it’s not enough, though she doesn’t give me any indication either way, simply saying thank you and to have a pleasant evening. This is definitely not my world.

Dominic’s leaning against the opposite wall when I push the door open, his head tilted back and his eyes closed.

After speaking with Athena, I have a difficult time labeling him a greedy billionaire who had the nerve to attend a homeless benefit when he’s in the middle of a deal to displace hundreds of families out of the only homes they can afford.

Now I see him as a broken boy, a child who would never be good enough to earn his mother’s love all because of who is father is.

How difficult it must be for him to pretend he doesn’t care.

“I thought you left me.”

He cracks his eyes open. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.”

“I ordered the limo. It will be waiting out front.”

“Thank you. What did you do while your mother and I talked?” I ask as we walk across the ballroom. Small groups of people still stand around gossiping, but no one pays us any attention.

“Sat at the bar and drank.”

“I’m sorry.”

He laughs, but there’s no joy in the sound. “Don’t be. I was perfectly content.”

I don’t believe him.

The limo’s waiting when we step out of the hotel.

I didn’t realize how late it was, but the sun has disappeared and a light breeze caresses my skin.

It’s a beautiful evening and I miss my cottage.

I’d be sitting on the porch now, sipping wine, maybe reading a book, or in my workshop painting and listening to the crickets sing, or missing Leo so much I wouldn’t be able to do anything at all.

Dominic helps me down the stairs, his hand encircling my arm. It’s instinct to want to pull away, but it’s probably best he helps me. I’m not used to heels, and the champagne I drank has worn off leaving me tired and woozy.

The chauffeur opens the door and I whisper a, “Thank you,” before sliding into the car.

Dominic sits on the same bench but keeps as much space between us as possible.

I twist in my seat and rest my cheek against the soft leather.

We glide into traffic and the stop-and-go as we navigate out of the city soothes me and my eyelids droop.

All my emotional energy is gone and I feel drained.

Talking to Leo when he was carried away by conviction and passion exhausted me, and I have a similar feeling now after speaking to his mother for the better part of three hours.

My head slips farther down the seat, but rather than dropping into nothing, my cheek meets the material of Dominic’s tux jacket.

I relax, letting my head rest against his shoulder.

“Dominic,” I murmur, my heart breaking, picturing a little boy needing his mother and not understanding why she didn’t love him.

He wraps his arm around me. “Go to sleep, Jemma. I’ll wake you when we reach your cottage.”

Trusting him, I let myself slip under and don’t wake until morning, lying on top of my bed, dressed in my gown, the sun streaming through the window announcing a new day.