CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Marco
I have to admit that even I’m feeling the pressure as we pull up outside the Greene family home, the taxi ready to drop us off on the sidewalk. We deliberately didn’t tell Simon about Hannah’s flight time, so that he wouldn’t come to meet us at the airport. We agreed that it would be better on his home turf, instead of making a scene in a public place.
But I wonder if I made a mistake as we sit outside the house. In a public place, at least he would be less inclined to hit me. Here, I don’t have any such protection.
Still, I force myself to get out of the car and go to the trunk. Hannah takes one of her bags and heads to the door, but not before shooting me a conspiratorial look. It doesn’t exactly say ‘everything is going to be fine’ more like ‘no matter what happens, we are in this together’. Which in some ways is reassuring, and in others, not so much.
I hear Simon before I see him. He exclaims happily at the fact that his daughter has come home, rebuking her for not letting him know to come and get her, cheering, and taking her suitcase at the door. But I know it won’t be long until he sees that I’m here, and I try to steel myself as I grab the last two suitcases out of the trunk.
“I didn’t need a ride, Dad,” I hear Hannah say, as I come around the front of the taxi and towards the door. Behind me, I hear the engine starting as the taxi takes off. “I had someone to bring me.”
“What?” Simon looks behind her and sees me for the first time, and our eyes meet. He looks startled, even taken aback. “Marco? You didn’t need to escort her home. What, do you have business in the area or something?”
“No,” I say, thinking that it would be far too awkward to tell him right here on the street in the early morning. “Let me get these bags inside. I’m going to find a hotel later, but we’ve had a long journey.”
“Right,” Simon says, giving me an odd look. But he helps with the bags anyway, and then we’re both inside, sitting down on the couch with the bone-deep exhaustion that can only come from international travel.
“So, ah,” Simon says, coming back into the room and gesturing vaguely at me. “What are you doing here?”
“Well,” I say, glancing at Hannah. “Actually, there’s something we wanted to talk to you about.”
“What is it?” Simon says. I can hear the tension in his voice now, a tightness. He knows that something is up, but he just doesn’t know what.
“I love him, Dad,” Hannah blurts out before I can say anything. “I didn’t expect it, but when we bumped into each other, it was like fate. And I just fell in love.”
I feel my heart surge in my chest. It’s the first time I’ve heard her say it. For a moment, I can’t find my voice, hearing those words overwhelms me with a feeling of lightness and joy.
“What?” Simon asks. He looks at me. “Look, Marco, if Hannah’s got herself confused…”
“No,” I say, snapping back to myself. “No, it’s not a silly crush or something like that. It’s mutual. I love your daughter, Simon. We’re together.”
Simon looks back and forth between us without speaking. He just keeps blinking his eyes and getting redder and redder in the face.
“It wasn’t planned,” I attempt because he isn’t saying a thing and it’s beginning to unnerve me. “It just happened. We spent the day together and fell hard, and over the rest of the week we only fell deeper.”
“No,” Simon says, surprising me. “No, this isn’t right. You’re telling me something that can’t be true. You wouldn’t do that, Marco. You wouldn’t take advantage of my daughter.”
“Dad!” Hannah cries out. “He didn’t take advantage of me. I wanted this. He makes me happy.”
“No!” Simon repeats again. “I won’t have it. I won’t allow it. You’re not to see each other again.”
There’s a long pause, Simon visibly shaking with rage, before Hannah answers him in a low voice. “Dad,” she says. “I love you. But I’m not a child anymore. I’m going away to college. How do you think you’ll be able to control who I see or don’t see?”
Simon splutters with rage, shaking his head. Before he does something rash like forbid her from going to college, I know I need to step in. This anger is only temporary, and I need him to calm down and start seeing things from our side. Once he does, I know he will have a different perspective. Maybe enough to make him happy for us, even.
“Simon, this is real,” I tell him. I rise to my feet, keeping my hands low in a calming gesture so that he can see it isn’t a move of aggression. “I’m in love with Hannah. I mean that. It’s not a fling or the chance for a holiday romance. Nothing like that. I want to be with her. I want her to be my family.”
Simon looks like he might be sick. “She’s young enough to be your daughter,” he says. “And you’ve only known each other for a week.”
I have to correct him again. “But she’s not my daughter. And even if it’s only been a week that we have really got to know each other, something in our souls is connected. We’re meant to be together.”
“I feel it too,” Hannah says, joining me on her feet. “I’ve never felt like this before with anyone. I love him, Dad.”
“Goddamn Italians,” Simon scowls, throwing those words to the back of the room as he turns away from us, wiping a hand over his mouth and chin. “So passionate about everything. You make it sound like you’re in love when you’ve only just met.”
“I’m not Italian,” Hannah points out. “So, listen to me.
