The Woman with the Ring (Costa Family)

“I should have thought of sneaking you in a cell phone. I honestly didn’t think I would get to see you face-to-face or I would have thought of it.”

“Maybe if we can prove that you’re not trying to steal me, or hatch some plan to overthrow the treaty, Primo will be more open to you visiting on occasion. Maybe even bringing Mom. Emilio and the others will likely be a hard sell, but I’m sure we will get there eventually.”

“So I have to play by the rules,” Mira grumbled.

“I know. It’s hard for you,” I agreed, smiling. “But for now, yeah.”

“I’m not apologizing for threatening that asshole, though.”

“I don’t think anyone expects you to. For all their flaws, the Esposito men don’t seem wholly opposed to loud-mouthed and opinionated women. If anything, Primo gets pissy if I don’t mouth off to him. He really hates the silent treatment. Though, I had to agree to stop doing that if I want to see you.”

“Small sacrifice. So what was the wedding like?”

“Rushed,” I told her. “But he had a dress and shoes and flowers,” I said, waving over toward the dining room table.

“And they’re still looking that good?” she asked, dubious, making my gaze shoot over to realize, no, of course not. He must have had them replaced. And seeing as he didn’t strike me as a man who wanted fresh flowers in the home for himself—least of all my favorite kind of flower—he’d clearly done so for me.

That was kind of thoughtful, right?

Even if he didn’t bring them personally, he’d thought to tell someone else to. Even when I was giving him the silent treatment.

“And a ring?” Mira asked.

Unlike me, she’d never been marriage-crazy. In fact, she scoffed at the whole institution and broke our mother’s heart by declaring she was never going to get married.

“Yeah,” I said, holding out my hand.

“You know I’m not a jewelry kind of girl, but this is pretty amazing.”

It was, actually. I found myself looking down at it often, running my finger over the stones in anxious moments.

“Your nails are a wreck, though.”

“I’ve been putting it off. I’ve dragged Dulles and Dawson to so many stores already. I was giving them a break from the girly shit.”

“Those are the brothers, right?”

“Twins. But a different mom from Primo, Due, and Terzo. I haven’t really figured out more than that.”

“What with the whole not speaking to your husband thing,” Mira said, nodding.

“Yeah.”

“I’m starting to think you got a kind of sweet deal, all in all,” Mira said. “You get to live in this fancy-ass apartment, spend all his money, not work, and you don’t even have to fuck him?”

“Well, I will eventually,” I reminded her. “He does want an heir.”

“Okay, well, don’t hate me, but would it really be a hardship to fuck him? He’s almost annoyingly attractive.”

“I don’t know. Maybe the dynamic will improve, and I’ll feel differently over time. It’s all new,” I added.

“Yeah. And you’re young. There’s time. I just hope that you get some more freedom soon. Sunday dinner has felt so weird without you there.”

“And by that you mean Mom is trying to force you to learn to cook finally since I am not there to help out.”

“Listen, it was your job as the first daughter to learn all that shit. Now you have abandoned us, and I’m learning all sorts of crap about sauces and pasta shapes that I never really ever wanted to know.”

“Hey, it would be nice to be able to feed yourself once in a while,” I told her, knowing she was a chronic order-in or take-out woman. I’d never seen someone with more menus than she had. The only items in her fridge were sauces to go along with whatever she’d ordered in, soda, and some ice cream in the freezer. That was my sister. And I was a little sad that I didn’t get to be around to watch our mom boss her around the kitchen while she got more and more frazzled by the second.

How many things like that had I missed? And would continue to miss? How long would it be before Primo allowed me to have my family in my life again?

I imagined however long he had in mind would only be lengthened by my resistance to my circumstances.

Maybe it was time for me to at least try to play the part I’d agreed to take.

Maybe if I was kinder and more accommodating, he would ease up with the restrictions, and this would feel more like a partnership than a prison I was stuck in.

I wouldn’t claim it would be easy. The more time went on, the more resentful I was feeling about parts of the arrangement. But if I could just work past that, play the part for a while, then maybe I would be able to negotiate for the things I wanted more of in my life.