Glancing down at the other end of the bar, I saw three of my old high school friends clamoring for more than just Christian’s cocktail skills. So much for making sure the birthday girl never has an empty glass.
“You know how we feel about divorce.” Mom dropped another not-so-stellar comment on me. Wrapping a hand over my shoulder, she urged me to face her. “We’re Catholic. Your father and I think—”
“What, that I should’ve stayed with Thomas even though he slept with other women?” I finally whirled around, giving up hope on that drink. “Cheating is a sin, Ma. I’m pretty sure that’s still frowned upon at the church.” I loved her to death, but she needed to let go and stop trying to run my life.
“You didn’t let me finish.” She dropped a dramatic sigh on me. “I was going to say that your father and I believe in the sanctity of marriage unless your husband is a cheating asshole.” She frowned at her accidental slip of a swear word. “Thomas was never right for you, and it was my fault I pushed you to marry him. I steered Natalia the wrong way in the past, too.” She showed me her palms as if in surrender. “You should celebrate being single at twenty-nine and enjoy your life. You know, meet new people, date a little. Maybe try some dating sites.”
“What?” I fake-laughed. “So I can get asked by a dozen different men my favorite color? No thank you.”
“Well, I promise I’m going to do my best not to play matchmaker anymore.”
My eyes widened in mock horror. Reaching for her, I joked, “Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?”
She chuckled. “I’m trying to change, my dear daughter.” Her Italian accent I loved still clung to her words. “But change takes time.”
Speaking of change. I looked around the crowded bar area, searching for one of the few people I did want to talk to, but I didn’t see Enzo anywhere.
“Maybe not with Enzo, though.”
“What?” I whipped my attention back to her.
“Don’t ‘enjoy’ yourself with Enzo, if you catch my drift. I see the way you look at him. He’s not good for you.”
Ugh, her and the air quotes. What was with everyone trying to warn me away from Enzo?
And great, now my head was back in the past, and my sister’s words to refrain from falling for a Costa echoed all around me. I could also see vividly the girl I once was, the one who’d ignored Natalia’s warning, standing in Hudson’s office with her whiskey-stained shirt, swollen lips, and a semishattered heart.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for everything he’s done for your sister.” The beginning of Mom’s lecture brought me back to the uncomfortable present, and she snatched her Moscato from the counter.
I painted on a fake smile and bit down on my back teeth to keep my mouth glued shut.
“I’m glad he was able to move here to help her with the restaurant, because he’s a phenomenal chef, and talent like that shouldn’t be wasted. I know his mother’s happy he’s turned over a new leaf while living in Charlotte, but . . .” Her hesitant pause was textbook dramatic from her.
I decided to let her unfinished sentence hang in the air while I once again flipped through the pages of my mind, landing on more recent memories, ones Enzo also owned.
To be honest, I’d been a bit shocked a man like Enzo would truly give up his fancy life and the money that came with it in New York to run my sister’s kitchen. Of course, I hadn’t exactly kept up with his life since our one and only hot moment. When he’d arrived in town two years ago, it’d been the first time I’d seen him since New York on my twenty-third birthday.
It’d also felt like time had stood still when our eyes met, and a rush of energy had moved through the room and slammed into me. I’d heard only the erratic beating of my heart as his eyes journeyed over my pregnant stomach.
And then he’d offered his hand as if we were two strangers who’d never shared a kiss, and I’d nearly vomited.
From that point on, I’d decided if he wanted to act like nothing ever happened, then so be it, and so would I. Plus, I’d been married and pregnant, so it made sense to erase that hot memory from my mind as if it were only an Etch A Sketch drawing.
“Maria, are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Mom snapped her fingers, trying to shake me free from my internal monologue. I swear, in another life I’d be a character in a book or movie and not a living, breathing person.