by Lacey Dailey
As if any place Benito Romano is, could be a better one.
Benny started making brief appearances again a little over a year ago. I’m overcome with intense feelings of impending doom whenever he’s around. I hold my breath, anticipating the moment Tito and Aldo decide we should date again.
“Gigi, darling?” I correct my posture, quickly rolling my shoulders back and lifting my chin, acknowledging my mother with an obedient smile. “Perhaps you should have worn your cap and gown so everybody in here could see what a success you are.”
“Mom, I don’t think the people in this restaurant care about my graduation.”
“Nonsense!” My father strikes the table with the heel of his hand, prompting water from my glass to slip over the rim and create little puddles on the tablecloth. “Only a fool wouldn’t be pleased to hear their future governor is one step closer to achieving just that.”
“You must be so proud.” Benny’s mother croons, sipping her mimosa. “Two children graduating a year early.”
Thank you, Francesca "Franny" Romano, for reminding the rest of the population that I wasn’t the only one in a cap and gown this morning. Renzo wasn’t coerced into doubling his courses quite as strongly as I was, but he never even considered trying to take a step back. He worked through migraines and exhaustion all so I wouldn’t be alone in my woeful college experience. He claims he was eager to get a head start on his life. I know the truth.
“Renzo, dear.” Franny offers my brother a smile. “What are you planning to do now that you’ve graduated? Criminal justice was your degree, yes?”
Renzo clears his throat and smiles, sensing my discomfort and happily stealing the attention from me. “I’ve actually just applied…”
“Special Agent Renzo Moretti.” There’s a proud gleam in my father’s eye when he speaks of my brother. “Renzo has applied to the FBI Academy.”
Renzo’s been ambitiously planning his initiation into the FBI since we were toddlers. Every conquest he’s went on, every hurdle he’s had to overcome, has all been for this future. I am tremendously happy for him. I’d gladly spend the rest of my life holed up in City Hall as long as my brother is in Quantico, actively living out his dream.
“That’s fantastic, son. What an incredible way to make a difference.” Aldo grunts his approval. “And Gigi, you are still working at City Hall, yes?”
“Yes.” My father leans back in his chair, swirling the water in his glass as if it’s decade old wine. “She’s brilliant, Aldo. I’ve gotten dozens of calls saying she is truly one of the brightest to come through.”
My eye twitches.
I’m a desk girl. I answer phone calls, make photocopies, and run errands. I’m not even allowed to use the second floor bathroom, let alone accomplish something that could be considered brilliant.
"I'm sure that's just them being kind."
A sigh escapes my father’s chest. It’s so deep, his warm breath travels across the table and wafts against my cheeks. "Bambina, do not undermine yourself like that. You're a brilliant young woman. Act like it!"
"Oh hush, Tito." My mom scolds him. Lovingly, of course, because even she is smart enough not to have a differing opinion. "She is just trying to be humble. It isn't polite to brag."
My dad makes a noise, patting the top of her hand. "That's right, honey. Sometimes, I forget how soft hearted our daughter is."
A muddled scoff leaves Benny’s lips. I smirk, but otherwise ignore his scowl and eavesdrop on Aldo bickering with my father over who will pay the bill.
It’s almost over.
My excitement is bittersweet, and I almost can’t enjoy it. I do my best to ignore the tugging at my chest, reminding me how backwards it is that I’m more excited to leave my celebration lunch than I am to actually be attending.
“Gigi?” There’s a flicker of something familiar in my mother’s eye. A glint that’s only there when she’s about to say something she thinks is brilliant but will likely have me on the verge of frustration filled tears. “Are you returning to your apartment after this?”
“I… yes. I was planning to.”
“Wonderful!” Her hands clasp together. “Benito will follow you. You can show him the place."
Something like suspicion moves through my body. "Why do I need to show Benny my apartment?"
"Because he's moving in with you, dear."
“The fuck?" Renzo stands from his seat, eyes tight and face red. “Who the hell decided this?”
“Renzo Moretti!” My father stands, unable to tower over Renzo like he once could, though that does not stop him from chastising my brother’s word choice. “Your sister is graduated. She will begin to look for jobs and start her campaign. It’s simply a matter of time before she and Benito take a visit to the altar.”
Air escapes me—simply abandons my lungs without warning. I’m a fish out of water, gasping for breath while people stare and watch, unmoving and unconcerned.
Placing both his palms on the table, my father leans across the dirty dishes and discarded bread rolls. Large biceps bulge beneath the sleeves of the suit he has on, and he gives me a look that dares me to disobey.
3
Gigi
My apartment has never felt like mine. It’s lined with textbooks I don’t like reading and clothes I don’t like wearing. My father has a key and uses it at his leisure. It’s my home, but I’ve never truly been at peace.
I wondered why my father demanded I have an apartment with two bedrooms. It felt unnecessary at the time, but now I wonder if this was his endgame all along.
If he was his endgame.
Benny’s sitting on the edge of the guest bed, growling something unintelligible at the wall, his overstuffed suitcase at his feet.
“Listen.” I lean against the doorway, wrapping my arms around my middle. “Just stay in your own room at night and we shouldn’t have any problems.”
Benny’s eyes disappear in his head. “Don’t flatter yourself, Gigi.”
“Don’t flatter myself?” Is he serious? “You were groping me all throughout lunch. I had to punch you in your balls to get you to knock it off!”
“Piss off for that, by the way.” His head turns dangerously slow, and he directs his temper toward me. “I wasn’t trying to grope you, Gigi. I was trying to play the part.”
“What part?”
“The fucking part I’ve been playing for the last seven years!”
“Oh screw you, Benny.” I push away from the doorway, taking solid steps toward him. “You haven’t been playing the part. You love being my boyfriend. I’ve had to convince Renzo not to kick your ass dozens of times in the years we were together.”
“Forced.” He clenches his teeth. “We were forced to be together, and now we’re being fucking forced to live with each other.”
“Don’t come at me, Benny. You think I want this?”
“You think I do?” He comes off the bed so quickly, his suitcase topples over. He steps over it and begins pacing in a half circle around the bed.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.
“God, Gigi, this is so fucked up. I don’t want this.”
I frown, rubbing the back of my neck. “Since when?”
In our adolescent days, Benny never squabbled at the choices his father made for him. I imagined it was because he didn’t have to try so hard at life. Benny milked his father’s connections for all they were worth. The Benny Romano I grew up with would be frothing at the mouth for the chance to have a trophy wife by day and mistress by night.
“Am I that much of an asshole?”
I blink. “You’re kidding, right?”
With a strangled sigh, he falls backward on the bed, arms splayed out by his sides. “I’ve never liked the plans he had for me, Gigi. I was just naive. Show me one sixteen year old that wouldn’t like the promise of a six figure job and top model wife.”
“So, that groping back there?”
“It was just for show.” His hands fist
the comforter at his sides, and he stares at the ceiling like he’s waiting for it to crush him. “My dad was glaring at me like he was planning my execution. I was trying to act like a proper boyfriend so he’d lay off.”
Funny how Aldo’s interpretation of a proper boyfriend includes being groped at a table filled with people.
“Look, I should’ve found a way to communicate to you what I was doing.” His head turns. Red rimmed eyes coupled with his next words almost knock me off my feet. “I’m sorry, Gigi. For this afternoon and for the last seven years. I was out of line. I thought the pressure from our dads back then was an invitation to touch your ass.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I understand that now, and I’m sorry.”
Wow.
I rub at my neck aggressively, my brain unable to conjure up a reply while scrambling to understand what’s happening.
Change is constant. Everywhere around me, people are growing, refashioning themselves until they’re satisfied with who’s staring back at them when they look in the mirror.
I didn’t think change was allowed for people like Benny and I. I didn’t think we possessed the opportunity to change without prior approval.
“I am sorry.” He sits up, dragging his hand down his face with a heavy breath. “Truly.”
“You’ve changed.”
“Changed, maybe. Grown up is probably a better way to put it.” He pops his neck, rubbing his palms down the cotton covering his thighs. Beneath his eyes is puffy and dark, a small consequence of having your right to choose stolen from you. He looks exhausted. Homesick, even.
Shuffling across the carpeting, I take a seat beside him. We don’t speak for several moments. I’m alone with Benny Romano and I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I’m too busy feeling sorry for him. Because I hadn’t considered, not once in seven years, that he too was cheated out of a future.
Together we sit, mourning the years we lost and sharing pain. Somehow, mine lessens.
“The only nice thing my father has done for me is send me on those mission trips. I’m sure he never would’ve sent me if he knew what they gave me.”
Freedom.
I ache to experience it.
“So, that’s where you’ve been all this time? Traveling?”
He clasps his hands together. “Yeah. It’s incredible, Gigi. Not just getting out from under my father, but the work. I really enjoy it.”
My chest burns, filling with an odd mixture of jealousy and joy.
“I had a good thing going. My father would call, I’d tell him what he wanted to hear, visit a few times a year, and go back to pretending his expectations didn’t exist.”
“So, basically, you come home long enough to give your father proof of life, and then get on a plane to resume your life?”
I crave a fate that isn’t dictated by somebody else’s choices. Where I could sleep in, eat pizza for breakfast, read in the bathtub, and actually use my Netflix subscription. I yearn for a life made up, not of minutes, but of adventures. What would it be like to get out from underneath my father?
“Pretty much, yes. And my plan was working seamlessly up until Tito decided to turn your celebratory lunch into a pre-engagement announcement. Christ.” He turns to me, hands fluttering on his lap, eyes fierce and contrite. “Gigi, I can’t marry you.”
“Good grief, Benny!” I shove his shoulder, knocking the serious expression off his face. “I don’t want to marry you either. Stop looking at me like you just told me I have a terminal disease.”
“You don’t want to go through with this?”
“Of course not. I would never forgive myself if I let my dad bully me into a marriage. God, Benny, when did it get like this? When did it go from choosing our high school electives to demanding a marriage?” Pulling my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around my legs. “Why is saying no so hard?”
“Because we have bastard fathers who don’t recognize the word when it’s spoken.” He sighs, shifting on the bed. “Look, Gigi, no isn’t exactly the easiest word for me to say either but I did find my way out. You can too.”
I wipe my wet eyes with the heel of my hand. “Where would I even go?”
With Max.
His effervescent and relaxed way of living calls to me. Each night, just after I’ve closed my eyes, my mind finds him. His enthusiastic smile, his lively eyes, and the two shallow dimples perched in his cheeks. My mind finds him, and I can’t help but wonder.
Admittedly, I thought maybe that when the diner door latched shut behind me, he’d let it go and I wouldn’t have to think of it, or pretend to ignore it, ever again.
It’s all I can think about.
Mostly because he’s texted me every day, reminding me his journey to nowhere in particular has room for one more.
8 am. Monday Morning. Break those chains, Gia Maria.
I rub my wrists, comparing my secure padlocks to Benny’s. His are worn, cracked, beat down, and rusted—the kind of chains that belong to a man who is sick of being a prisoner.
I am sick of being a prisoner.
“You can go, or live, or vacation wherever you want. Or, hell, you could stay here and take a job spritzing perfume at the mall. The choice is yours. It should be yours.” He stands off the bed, shaking out his legs. “Just like the choice to leave here is mine. I will not torture myself by being present for the moment your father finds out the ring lodged in my suitcase will not be going on your finger.”
My stomach lurches. “There’s a ring?”
“Our mothers chose it. My father handed it to me while I was packing. He said ‘get it done’ like I was a hired hitman about to go execute somebody who did him dirty. I have never met somebody so arrogant and entitled.” A beat of silence passes. “Except for maybe your father.”
“They should marry each other.”
He snorts. “Listen, Gigi, I don’t want to leave you to the wolves, but I have a life. A real life that means something to me. I need to get back to it.”
His eyes burn with an intensity I didn’t know Benny possessed. He speaks about his life with passion, the significance outweighing the wrath he will face.
“Okay, so let’s take a few days to—”
“My plane leaves in the morning. I can’t be here for a few days. I’m starting to think I can’t be here ever again. What’s going to happen next time I visit? Tux fittings? Am I going to get shoved down the aisle? I can’t marry you, Gigi.”
“I’m not exactly keen on marrying you either, Benny.” I stand, my hands moving to my hips. “Call me a hopeless romantic but I have this dream of marrying somebody I’m actually in love with.”
“I hope that works out for you, Gigi. It’s worked out for me, and I can’t think of anything better.” He takes a step toward me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “That’s why I keep saying I can’t marry you. Not because I’m trying to insult you, but because I’m already married.”
Holy. Shit.
So many questions surface, and I have half a mind to call him on his bullshit, but his eyes are more earnest that I’ve ever seen them.
“H… how?”
“I bought a ring, got down on one knee—”
“Okay, wiseass!” Pulling out of his hold, I backhand his gut. “I meant how the hell do you hide a marriage from Aldo?”
“It’s like you said, I only come home to show proof of life. When I’m here, I take my ring off.” His fingers dip beneath the collar of his shirt, connecting with a chain that was hidden underneath the fabric. When he pulls it free, I notice the dark wedding band. “I’ve been married a little over a year. We met on my first mission trip.” He pulls the chain from his neck, freeing the ring and sliding it back on his finger. “Her family is really good to me. They know everything—why I have to leave every once in a while, why I didn’t have any relatives at our wedding. They even know about you.”
My jaw drops. “Your wife knows about the woman your parents forced you to date?”
“
Yeah.” He laughs into a smile. “I don’t have any secrets from her. She’s remarkable. I love her with every ounce of my soul, and I need to get back to her.”
The color in his eyes transforms as he speaks of his wife. The deep, dangerous brown I’m so accustomed to bleeds into a color that reminds me of caramel. It’s almost as though he’s melting for her.
It’s kind of cute.
In a sappy, sugary, gag me sort of way.
“Congratulations, Benny.”
“Thank you.” He clears his throat, reaching for his back pocket. “You, uh, want to see a picture of her?”
“Of course.” Who knew I’d be smiling and getting along with Benito Romano while staring at pictures of his wife? She is stunning. Freckles dot her face, complementing the bright red hair that falls down around her shoulders. “What’s her name?”
“Olivia. She owns a bakery two streets away from where we live.”
“Where’s that? Somewhere in North Carolina?”
He shakes his head. “Vermont. We have a small house and some acres of land.”
“Vermont? How’d you end up there?”
“It’s where she grew up. She has a soft spot for the town, and I’ve developed one too. I live five miles from my in-laws. Find me another man who considers that a blessing. The two of them are like the parents I never had.”
I want that.
Not the in-laws, or the house in Vermont, or the wife.
The peace.
I want the peace that comes each morning when you open your eyes to a day that hasn’t already been mapped out for you. I want to find something that makes my eyes melt when I speak about it.
I want to go on a trip with a goofball musician who reminds me of a vegetable.
Reaching forward, I grip the handle of his suitcase and lift it off the carpet, thrusting it at his chest. “Get your ass on that plane and go home to your wife.”
“What about you? What about this ring? Should we pawn it or something? That might be fun.”
