Page 92 of Married With Lies
“Nothing,” Cale says. “Just a minor Atlantic City issue. Will you be okay on your own?”
“Of course but when are you going to be done?”
“Late,” he says. He gives me a quick peck on the lips. Far too quick for my taste. “Don’t wait up for me.”
He returns to Richie’s side and all the men file out of the room together, leaving me with the forlorn understanding that tonight’s fun plans have been ruined.
“Here,” Kiki says. “You can have the last tart.”
“Might as well.” I grumpily accept the last fruit tart, which is a poor consolation prize in place of mind blowing sex with Cale.
Donna wants to bring all the wine outside and sit by one of the firepits. I get towed along for the ride by Kiki and then drink a couple of glasses after a lot of peer pressure. This probably wasn’t the best idea because the alcohol goes to my head very quickly and I really shouldn’t be all muddled when I’m pretending to be a blushing newlywed in front of an audience of mafia wives.
As luck would have it, none of them are terribly focused on me. They’re talking about taking their kids to visit college campuses and whose daughter will be the next to get married.
I’m grateful to be enveloped in Peggy’s granny square sweater because the chill of the mountain night air gets to me even with the firepit crackling a few feet away. It’s mildly alarming the way two sinister-looking men are standing vigil in the shadows outside the circle of light. Though I recognize them being among Richie’s bodyguards and I’m aware they were sent out here to watch over us, being watched still feels creepy. It reminds me that I’m not vacationing with an ordinary group of people.
“Sadie,” says Donna, and now her words are slightly slurred. “When are you and my nephew planning to settle down and build that new house in the neighborhood?”
“Um, soon,” I say, hoping there will be no follow up.
Kiki playfully nudges my thigh. “Imagine the freaking adorable kids you two will make. When is that happening?”
“Um, soon.” I don’t see why I can’t answer every question this way.
Now the topic has turned to grandchildren and how many they all want and when they might show up. Donna laments the fact that she has two married daughters who have yet to make her a grandma.
Then Donna smiles at me. “I used to worry that I didn’t get blessed with sons. But I’ve loved Cale and Luca as much as my own kids since the day they came to live with us after their parents died, god rest their souls. Cale was always a puzzle but seeing him with you makes me think he might actually be the first one to make me a grandma.”
Why am I able to picture this so easily? It’s as clear as if it really happened; Cale beaming with pride as he carefully takes a swaddled bundle of joy from my arms.
Another woman pipes up, “Now if only you can get Luca to come home where he belongs.” Her name is Gina, I think. Or maybe it was Gigi. I’d be too embarrassed to ask now and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open anyway. Wine can be a heck of a sedative.
“No kidding,” Donna says with a sniff. “I keep telling Richie he’s got to find a way to bribe Luca to move back. Richie says he’s working on it so I’ll just put my faith in his plans.”
Part of my brain lights up at her words. Cale wouldn’t like hearing that Richie is scheming to find way to bring Luca back to New York. Cale wants his brother to stay as far away from the mafia world as possible. But Cale is surely aware of what Richie is up to. Cale is always one step of his uncle, isn’t he?
The flames dancing in the firepit are hypnotic in a troubling way. I never liked fires. As a kid at summer camp, one night I sat too close to the campfire. A spark jumped out and landed on my bare thigh. The scar is still there, a vaguely discernable crescent. Peggy often leaves candles burning and shrugs when I point out the danger. I blow them out when she’s not looking. Lightning also causes fires. There’s no lightning in the sky tonight but now I’m thinking of the night of the thunderstorm. Cale stayed with me until I felt safe. I’ll always feel safe with Cale. That night he spoke of the death of his father. Cale must not like fire either.
These are the last coherent thoughts I have before Kiki shakes me awake some indeterminate time later.
“Come on, little sleepyhead.” She pulls me to my feet in a very maternal way. “Time to call it a night.”
The fire is still burning and reflects off her ample gold jewelry as I allow myself to get towed along. All of our rooms are located close together in the same building. Kiki’s room is right across the hall.
“Let’s go to breakfast tomorrow,” she says. “I’ll knock on your door.” Then she sashays rather crookedly to her own room and disappears.
I’m still fumbling for my card key when I see movement out of the corner of my eye and nearly jump out of my skin. Then I just realize it’s one of Richie’s bodyguards. He’s hanging out at the end of the dim corridor, probably under orders to ensure we all get safely closed into our rooms.
Unsettled, I hurry inside the suite and double check the lock. The room, with its warm color scheme and enormous bed, would feel far more romantic if I wasn’t here alone. Instead, it just feels empty.
The bathroom features a large soaking tub with a collection of complimentary bath salts to choose from. I really like the idea of being naked in a bubble bath when Cale walks in. This isn’t something I would ordinarily do but being slightly buzzed does wonders for my self-confidence. I even leave the door halfway open. Finally, after an hour the water is tepid and I’m in danger of nodding off.
There’s still no sign of Cale.
My only remotely sexy nightie is packed in my suitcase. The cut is tame but the cream fabric is satin and the mirror confirms that my boobs look fantastic. I’m feeling a little giddy as I crawl between the sheets with a book. It’s a book I’ve read before but now I want to reread the dirty parts. For inspirational reasons.
By now it’s long after midnight. I’m having a whole lot of trouble focusing on the words on the page. There’s a coffee maker on the counter. A cup of caffeine might be the key to a second wind.