Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“I’m okay,” I told him. “I’ve just missed you all so much,” I said, reaching my other arm out to pull Anthony into the hug. He wasn’t usually one for allowing me to be affectionate with him. But he let me have my way this time.
“Missed you too,” he admitted, giving me a squeeze before they both pulled away.
“If you’re looking for bruises,” I started, seeing the way Emilio’s gaze was checking my arms, “you can stop. He doesn’t hit me. He would never.”
“Never,” Anthony scoffed.
“Never,” I confirmed.
“His old man used to beat the shit out of his mom,” Emilio said.
“Which is why he wouldn’t put his hands on me,” I insisted. I didn’t know everything about the Esposito children, but I knew that Primo and Terzo had loved their mom. And, clearly, hated his dad since you couldn’t go a month without hearing the story of how Primo killed his father with his dinner knife at the table, then wiped it off, and sat back down to finish eating.
I imagined more than a small bit of that hatred came from how his father had treated his mom. And, let’s face it, if his father had been a wife-beater, then it was almost guaranteed that the kids got knocked around too.
A little part of me ached for that boy Primo had been once upon a time. Big enough to know it was wrong, that his mom was crying and begging for it to stop, but too small to stand up to his big, mean father.
It must have been easy to grow up to be cold and ruthless when you had such a monster for a father. And softness in that household would have likely been beaten out of his children.
Though I had to admit, while Primo absolutely was cold and ruthless—along with being an arrogant asshole at times—he must have had a little of his mom in him.
I guess visiting with my family and having to say aloud that Primo wasn’t a terrible man was making it so that I had to admit to myself the same thing. And I’d been trying so hard not to do that, not to find positive traits about him because I was so determined to dislike and resent him on principle rather than on merit.
“I swear to you, Emilio,” I said, nodding. “This might not have been the future I wanted for myself, but he’s not a monster. When he realized I was upset about not seeing you guys for Christmas, he immediately set up a plan for us to come.”
“You’re talking like the man loves you,” Anthony said, looking disgusted at the idea.
“He has very traditional ideas about marriage. It’s important to him. He seems to want to do it right.”
“That’s not what I wanted for you,” Emilio insisted, voice sad.
“A ‘real’ marriage could have been miserable too. All those potentially hurt feelings because a man might not have taken the vows so seriously. Is this a fairy tale? No. But it’s not…”
“Better?” Primo asked, moving in at my side, and handing me my glass of wine. Which I went ahead and took a hefty sip of. “Is that a no?” he asked, frowning down at me.
“It’s a ‘family is complicated’ and ‘my brothers are stubborn assholes’ kind of thing,” I clarified.
“Well, they are Costas,” he said, and a laugh bubbled up and burst out of me.
“I’m not that bad,” I insisted, knowing it was a lie.
“Lamb, fucking skyscrapers bend and budge more than you do.”
That actually got a chuckle out of both of my brothers, and I couldn’t help but think that was a step in the right direction.
Right then was when a new, recently arrived set of relatives barged in and wanted to see and talk to me.
Eventually, I was tugged to and fro so much that I’d lost sight of Primo. Then I’d been dragged off to the kitchen to help out because my mother didn’t care if I’d been kidnapped and held hostage by pirates at sea for years, she expected the girls to pitch in when dinner was being prepared.
“Go tell your husband and you two get your seats up by me,” my mother demanded when the food was being put on the platters to bring into the dining room.
My husband.
That was still going to take some getting used to.
“Okay,” I agreed before moving back into the front of the house, looking around, and ready to head outside to see if some of my family members had taken him outside for a fistfight or something, when I caught sight of a big, dark, beautiful man.
Sitting on the floor.
Reading a copy of The Night Before Christmas to a round-faced toddler.
When I tell you my ovaries exploded… I mean it.
I guess I’d always viewed being a mother and having a child with Primo as almost two separate things in my mind. Because I’d been so hellbent on not associating anything positive with him, I guess.