Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I was yanked out of a dream—which was fine by me, because it was the one where my teeth are falling out—by the sound of someone pounding on my front door. The light in my room was gray and shadowy, and when I checked my phone I discovered it was already six o’clock. Sitting up, I rubbed my face with both hands. My scruff was long and scratchy, and my hair was probably a mess. The banging on the door persisted, so I threw on a sweatshirt and Bulldogs cap before going down to answer it.
When I saw who it was, I regretted coming down at all.
“Enzo Moretti, what is the matter with you?” My mother pushed her way inside the house and slapped me upside the back of my head. She was so much shorter than me, she practically had to jump to do it.
“Ow, Ma! I have a headache,” I told her, straightening my cap.
“I’ll just bet you do.” She marched into the kitchen, set her purse on the counter and faced me. Folded her arms over her chest. Narrowed her eyes. “You weren’t at church today.”
“I slept in.”
One brow arched. “Where? Not here, because I know what was going on here last night.”
Ignoring that, I opened the cupboard where I kept a bottle of ibuprofen. I shook four into my hand.
“Answer me!” my mother snapped.
I turned on the faucet and filled a glass with water. “Sorry. What was the question?”
“Where were you last night?” she demanded loudly.
Wincing at the volume of her voice, I popped the pills in my mouth and washed them down. “I was at Griffin’s.”
“Really.” As if she didn’t believe me.
“Really.”
“Not another woman’s?”
I made a face at her over my shoulder. “What? No!”
“Because I cannot imagine why your brand new wife was seen moving out of your house unless you betrayed her in some way.”
“Well, I didn’t.” I wasn’t even going to ask her how she’d heard about Bianca moving out—in a town like Bellamy Creek, she’d probably gotten five phone calls from people already, because someone happened to be out walking their dog last night and saw Bianca put a suitcase in her trunk.
“So where is she?” my mother demanded.
“Probably at her condo.” Facing my mother, I leaned back against the counter and drank more water.
“Why?”
I shrugged. “She said she’d made a mistake. We rushed into the marriage. She just wants to be friends.”
My mother’s jaw fell open and snapped shut again. “Bullshit!” Then she pointed a stubby finger at my chest. “You did something to make her mad.”
“No, I didn’t, Ma. You can even ask her.”
“Believe me, I intend to,” she huffed. “But in the meantime, you march right over to wherever it is she went and you apologize to her.”
“For what? I didn’t do anything.”
“Then apologize for that!”
I rolled my eyes. “This is ridiculous. She left, Mom. Why don’t you feel sorry for me?”
“I just don’t!” Her eyes blazed with anger. “I know you too well.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means, you don’t take anything seriously. You think life is just one endless good time. A joke. Well, no one’s laughing!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I was getting mad now.
“You never took this marriage seriously. You wouldn’t even let the priest bless it.”
“Because it was just a piece of paper to us.”
She threw her hands up. “See what I mean? Marriage is not just a piece of paper—it’s a lifelong commitment. For better or worse, richer or poorer, ’til death do you part. And with your history, Bianca probably suspected all along your heart wasn’t really in it. You must have made her feel insecure. If it wasn’t another woman, it had to be your job. You’re just like your father! You put work first! You didn’t make her feel like a priority!”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Then explain it to me. Why would a woman married less than two months leave the man she’s madly in love with?”
“She’s not in love with me, Mom!” I yelled.
“Of course she is.” My mother rolled her eyes. “Any idiot could see it.”
“She’s not,” I said, lowering my voice. “She’s just a good actress.”
My mom parked her hands on her hips. “I don’t understand.”
“We were never in love. We only got married so Dad would leave Moretti & Sons to me when he retired.”
Her face drained of color. “No.”
“It’s the truth. Bianca agreed to marry me because of that stupid family tradition.”
“But—but—why would she do that?”
“That’s between us,” I said, wanting to protect Bianca. “But she’s blameless. This was all my doing. I’ll come clean to Dad.”
“Damn right, you will. I’m not telling him this. It will kill him that he’s raised a dishonest man.”
The punch landed right in my gut, as intended. I pressed my lips together in a grim line. “Look, I’m not proud of myself. I’ll tell him. Just please don’t say anything to anyone else. It would be humiliating for Bianca and me both. This is hard enough.”