Everything goes perfectly. From the aperitifs to dessert, the meal runs smoothly. Luca sounds knowledgeable about the wines I’ve chosen, although Connie sticks to mineral water. Tino is delighted that I’ve ordered his favorite courses from his favorite restaurant. And then the pièce de résistance: after-dinner Romeo y Julieta cigars for Tino and Luca to enjoy upstairs in the study.
“Us girls can look at more of your honeymoon snaps,” Connie squeaks to me, utterly without sarcasm.
“That sounds great!” I squeak back, and give Luca a wink at his warning glance.
And so Luca and Tino tramp slowly upstairs, and Connie and I hole up in the sitting room again, but rather than look at any more boring photos of the open sea from the deck of the Maddalena, I get Connie to let me scroll through her Instagram feed. It is truly astonishing to me how easy she’s making it for any interested person to track her movements and—more importantly—Tino Morelli’s.
I resolve to do everything in my power to keep my face off social media, not to mention out of the papers.
I’ve been stifling yawns for about half an hour when Connie grabs my hand and looks wistfully at my ring. “Must feel nice to belong to someone like Luca.”
“It does.”
“Safe.”
“Yes.”
She squeezes my hand and leans in sharply. “Can I tell you something personal? Something secret? About me and Tino?” she whispers, eyes imploring.
I resolve that I will never confide in anyone about me and Luca.
“Sure!” I say, with my wide, friendly smile.
“I’m pregnant!” She slaps her hands across her mouth afterwards, and then drops them to give me a beaming smile. “Only six weeks. Tino told me not to tell anyone, but I figured I could tell you, since he wants you and Luca as godparents.”
“He—does? And wow, uh, congratulations!”
“But it gets so much better than that,” she rushes on. “We’re getting married!” She claps her hands silently, bouncing on the sofa. “We’re just waiting for the right time to announce it, and I don’t even have an engagement ring yet. But soon. I can’t wait. Oh, God, Finch, I love him so much, and can you believe it? I’ll belong to the most powerful man in New York City!”
Talk about overselling it. It’s not that Tino’s not powerful; but the Morelli Family might not have much of a future if the fractures continue to grow. Connie obviously doesn’t listen much at the Wife gatherings—and that means Tino is missing information as well.
But while I’m thinking all this, my mouth is saying something different. “Oh my Gawwwd,” I whisper-squeal. “Connie, that’s amazing! Does anyone else know?”
“Oh, hell, no,” she says at once. “All those Wives hate me—except you and Celia.”
I feign astonishment. “That’s not true. Surely.”
She nods her head so hard I fear it’ll drop off. “It is, I swear to God. They pretend to like me, but they know if—when Tino and I get married, I’ll be top bitch. It’ll shake ’em up.” She chatters on, and I watch the clock.
They’ve been up there three quarters of an hour now. I’m itching to know if Luca’s asked about Mom.
I can’t stand it any longer. I break into Connie’s long monologue. “I think I’ll go see if the boys need anything.”
“Oh, they’re fine. Like I was saying—”
“I’ll just run up and check. And you know, use the bathroom. I’ll be right back, Connie.”
“Ooh, I could use a visit to the little girl’s room—”
“There,” I say bluntly, pointing to the downstairs bathroom. The last thing I want is Connie shadowing me around the house when I do what I’m about to do. “And Connie, sweetheart—you need to fix the face a little.” I make a motion around my face and she looks horrified.
“Oh my God, this is a new foundation. I just knew I should’ve stuck to my usual!”
I wait until Connie is safely locked into the bathroom along with her handbag and makeup fixings, and then I sneak upstairs as quietly as I can and make my way down the hall to the study. The door is ajar to let out the smoke of the cigars, so I flatten myself against the wall and listen hard.
Tino’s rumbling voice is easy to discern, easy to understand. I have to creep even closer, though, to hear Luca’s lighter, quieter words.
“…and I can see this husband of yours is making something of you, Luciano.”
“He is, Don Morelli,” I hear Luca reply, a hint of rueful laughter. “It’s past time, perhaps.”
Tino laughs at that, a deep chuckle that ends in a wheeze. I hope Connie has plans to get herself written into the will along with that ring on her finger, because Tino doesn’t sound like the healthiest guy. “I always knew you had it in you. But tell me—Finch—what is he like?” Tino is eager. Interested.
Luca, when he replies, sounds a little taken aback. “He is…wild. Crazy. Lonely. Lost. But he’s also someone who learned how to survive, despite all the money he grew up with. I think this life with me—with us, in the Family—will suit him.”
“That is good to hear. Very good to hear. And are you making him happy, Luca? When we talked about keeping him, you assured me you would make him happy. Is that still the case?”
There’s a long pause, and I picture Luca’s face, still and calm as he always is—except for when I get under his skin.
“I believe he is as happy as he can be, given the circumstances.”
Tino gives a long, grumbling murmur. “You promised me, Luciano. You promised me. You said he would be happy. I would not have agreed to this if I thought he would not be happy.”
Whaddya know, Tino Morelli’s a big old softie.
“I did promise you, sir, and I’m doing my best. He’s off the drugs. He’s made at least one friend—Celia, she adores him.”
“Celia’s a fine woman,” Tino agrees.
“But nothing
