“Well, go then,” Mamma said. “You don’t have to tell the whole room.”
I laughed.
Mamma rolled her eyes. “Mamma mia.”
Dominic’s gaze narrowed on me from where he stood leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked sharp in his suit and as broody as usual.
“I’ll go with you!” Gianna got to her feet. She wore ballet-pink velvet pumps I couldn’t help but envy.
“No, no, no!” Sophia said. “You can’t break the seal already! The night just started!”
“What do you know about ‘breaking the seal,’ Miss Nineteen-Year-Old?” Mamma muttered as Gianna and I walked toward the bathroom.
“That’s a myth, you know. Breaking the seal.” Gianna linked her arm with mine. “Apparently it’s all in our heads.”
“I wouldn’t know either way,” I admitted. “I’m not a big drinker.”
“Really? I guess you and Ace are perfect for each other then, aren’t you?”
My brows pulled together. “But Nico’s always drinking.”
“Yes,” she laughed, nudging my shoulder with hers. “But never excessively. The last time I saw him drunk was six years ago, and I’m positive it was only more incentive for sobriety.”
“Why?”
“Er, well . . .” She sighed. “Maybe that’s something Ace should tell you.”
“You slept with my husband, didn’t you?” In my inebriated state, the invasive question slipped from my lips.
An awkward laugh escaped her. “Well, it’s out in the open, isn’t it? It was one time, and we were both so drunk neither of us even remembers it.”
Maybe it was because I was a few drinks in, or maybe it was because I had already assumed it to be true, but I wasn’t that upset. I knew Nico was far from a virgin, and I wasn’t sure I wanted one of those anyway. He wouldn’t be the same man he was now.
We did our business in the bathroom and then stood side-by-side at the sink washing our hands.
“So, you’re married, huh?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Don’t remind me.”
“I’m sorry to hear it isn’t a marriage of love.”
She leaned toward the mirror, applying a fresh coat of cherry-red lipstick. “Don’t be. It was my choice.”
“Really?”
“Yup,” popped from her lips as she pressed them together to spread the lipstick evenly. “I married Antonio when I was twenty. He died three years later. After I got into a little trouble with the law, Nico gave me a choice to go home to Chicago or marry again.”
She held out her lipstick to me and I had a refusal on my tongue, but . . . why the hell not? Elena Abelli never wore anything so bold, but I was Elena Russo now. I took it from her and began applying a liberal coat.
“So, you chose to marry?”
“Yes.” She grabbed my left hand to look at my ring in the light. “That was a no-brainer.”
Apparently, her home life wasn’t that great.
“You’re going to think I’m horrible, but I chose the oldest candidate available for obvious reasons.”
“I don’t think you’re horrible at all.” It was the truth. I wouldn’t have the courage to marry a man three times my age. I couldn’t even imagine the wedding night without my skin crawling. “Nico won’t make you marry again?” I asked.