*Olivia*
I tapped my fingers against the dining table and stared at Elio, gumming on a piece of plain toast in his high chair. The dinner was tonight, and I knew Sal wouldn’t answer a call before nine, but I itched to call him anyway. Maria—and the rest of the kitchen—hadn’t been able to get a start ti until this morning.
Dahlia swept into the dining room with a backpack on. I shot up in a panic—I needed her today—before rembering she had an hour-long group project eting.
I dropped back into my seat with a sigh. “Do you think I’m silly for worrying this much? He’s been to the house before, it just feels... different.”
Dahlia grabbed a piece of un-Elio’d toast off a plate in the middle of the table and took a bite.
“I don’t think you’re silly,” she said through a full mouth. I grimaced, and she swallowed before continuing. “It’s like bringing a boyfriend ho to et your parents, except you’re bringing a parent ho to et your husband. It’s stressful, but I also think it’s probably gonna be fine.”
I rested my head in my hands. “Really? You don’t think he and Gio are gonna kill each other?”
“I an–” she said.
I shot her a frantic look, and she shook her head with a laugh.
“No, of course not. This is better than a regular et-the-parents because everybody really just wants to make you happy.” Dahlia stuffed the rest of the toast in her mouth, kissed Elio on the head, and strode to the door. “All you have to do is show up, and nothing can go wrong.”
“Buh-buh, Dally!” Elio shrieked.
She waved at him, and I waved back, hoping against hope she was right.
Before I could convince Elio to finish his juice, the alarm on my phone telling I could finally call went off. I scooped it up, sippy cup in the other hand, and navigated to my favorite numbers.
I’d been calling Sal often enough that my phone suggested it a few days ago, and I hit ‘yes’ before I could overthink it.
His phone rang twice before he answered.
“Hey, Livi.” His voice sounded groggy like he’d just woke up. I bit my lip and hoped he wouldn’t be mad I called this early. “Got a start ti for your old man?”
“Seven,” I blurted. “Um, dinner at half past, but we wanted to leave a little ti for drinks and showing up before the al proper.”
“Gotcha.”
I thought I might have heard the sound of a pencil on paper over the line like he was taking notes. Sothing in my chest glowed. However everybody else felt about this dinner, it was important to him, too.
“You still rember where we live, right?” I asked anxiously as Elio grabbed for the hostage sippy cup. I handed it over gladly.
He chuckled. “Couldn’t forget it if I tried. I thought your Gio might’ve taken out right in that garage if you didn’t get to first.”
I laughed, rembering my towering fury that first day. It was hard to imagine being that angry with him now.
“Alright, I gotta go polish up so I blend in with your house. It takes a minute for soone like .” He laughed again. “Can’t wait to see you. Been too long already.”
I bit my lip and nodded, half glad he couldn’t see . “Tonight! Seven!”
We said our goodbyes and hung up. I took a deep breath and looked at my son, sared in the remains of breakfast. I just had to pass the next ten hours without losing my mind.
No problem.
***
By the ti six o’clock rolled around, I felt perfectly insane. I’d bathed Elio, picked out three different outfits for him in case of spillage, chosen my own outfit twice, scrubbed the dining room and the foyer, poked my head in to check on Gio playing with Elio so often he told I was going to wake him up from a nap if I did it again, and accidentally bleach-stained my favorite tablecloth.
Maria even chased out of the kitchen a couple of tis. I was standing back in the dining room, gnawing on a thumbnail and wondering if I should ask soone to get the special-event chairs out of storage when Dahlia found .
“Olive,” she said.
I kept staring at the table. The special-event chairs matched my second-choice tablecloth better, but were they too fancy?
“Olive!” She grabbed by the shoulders, and I looked at her suddenly.
“What?” I snapped.
She raised an eyebrow at .
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Thinking too much.”
“More like worrying too much.” She shook her head. “What did I tell you about just showing up?”
The morning had faded from my mind. I shrugged.
She sighed. “Alright. Just go get ready. Everything’s gonna be alright.”
“But the chairs—”
She pushed out of the dining room and toward my bedroom.
“Fine, fine!” I put up my hands. “But if he says sothing about the chairs, that’s on you.”
She shook her head indulgently and waved away.
I crept into the bedroom. Gio had said sothing yesterday about putting Elio down for an hour before Sal showed up so he’d be awake during dinner, and I didn’t want to wake him. The lights were off in the nursery, and the sitting room was covered in abandoned toys, so I snuck to the bedroom.
Inside, I found Gio on his back in bed with his eyes closed and Elio asleep on his chest. For the first ti since I woke up, peace stole over my heart. My boys, safe and sound together.
I padded up to the bed as quietly as I could, but Gio’s long-honed instincts beat . His eyes fluttered open as I leaned over them, and a satisfied grin spread over his face as he realized it was .
“You were too cute to move,” I whispered.
He sat slowly, cradling Elio so our son remained asleep. “I know the feeling. Ti to get ready?”
I nodded.
He stroked a free hand across my cheek. “Go, do what you have to do. He and I will be here when you’re done.”
I twisted to kiss his hand, enjoying how well he knew , and fled to the closet.
Forty-five minutes later, I scooped a now-awake Elio out of his arms so he could dress. I picked a simple, gray stretch-cotton dress, so as not to scare Sal, but I knew the cut made look elegant. My arms were totally bare, but it had a low turtleneck, and the hem hit mid-calf with modest slits on either side up to my knee. Paired with black heels and a simple updo, Dahlia declared a “vision of modern motherhood.”
Elio squird into his first outfit, a sailor-inspired navy shirt with white trim and matching navy-and-white striped leggings. Together, we marched out to the foyer to make sure everyone else was in place.
Dahlia leaned against the banister in a similarly casual-cool outfit, a hot-pink oversized blazer she picked up in Milan over a black pencil skirt and a gray patterned T-shirt with matching pink heels.
Before I could say anything, the door swung open, and I whirled to see Tallon and Alessandro in the doorway. Alessandro, at least, had the dignity to look sheepish.
“It’s—” I checked my watch “—five minutes until he gets here!”
Tallon strode in, his hands in the pockets of his teal chinos. “So we’re right on ti.”
Gio’s heavy tread down the hall behind was the only thing that saved Tallon. I turned to see my husband in black suit pants and a gray button-up with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and no tie. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least everybody followed the dress code.
Dahlia held her arms out. “I’ll take him. The jacket’s waterproof.”
I grinned and handed my squirming son over.
The doorbell rang.
Ti seed to stretch as I walked to the door, Gio smiling at my side. It was ti to welco my father properly into my life. I’d been imagining this mont—a knock on the door of the tiny apartnt I shared with my mom, a man at our door promising a better life with tears and hugs—for as long as I’d known most people had fathers, and it was finally here.
I took a deep breath and opened the door.
Sal, freshly shaved in khakis and a white polo, stood on our front stoop.
“Sorry if I’m early.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I really couldn’t wait.”
I grabbed him in a hug, the first ti I’d initiated contact since he appeared outside our gate. It felt right. My father was here, and my husband finally wanted to get to know him. After a mont’s hesitation, Sal wrapped his bony arms around and squeezed.
“I couldn’t wait either,” I whispered.
I pulled back and grinned up at Gio. He smiled back at and put his hand out to shake.
“Welco to our ho,” he said. “I’m looking forward to the chance to get to know you.”
Salvatore took it gladly, and my perfectly planned night swept us into its rhythm. Drinks and introductions in the foyer flowed easily into dinner in the dining room.
Maria had outdone herself, creating a perfect Beef Wellington after I rembered Sal ntioned liking it as well as a massive dish of Gio’s mom’s spaghetti. Gio hired a bartender for the evening, insisting none of us would want to worry about it, and the lithe Italian man sohow kept everyone’s glass full in between Dahlia’s attentions. The conversation centered around Elio, the first year of events Sal had missed, and pictures got handed around the table at regular intervals.
I breathed a sigh of relief as we reach the end of Elio’s first year and nobody had even made an untoward comnt. Our plates were getting empty, and the night seed like it was going to be a success.
Alessandro knocked back the remainder of a Dark & Stormy and leaned forward. “Speaking of his birthday, did you know that was happening when you showed up?”
I took a steadying breath. Alessandro asked everything like a challenge. He didn’t an anything by it.
Sal swallowed quickly. “Um, no. I just finally managed to track Olivia down and couldn’t wait.”
“Mm-hmm.” Alessandro crossed his arms. “And how’d you find her after all this ti?”
“Her school, like I said.” Sal furrowed his eyebrows. “Why?”
Alessandro shook his head and accepted another drink from the bartender. “I’m a curious guy. Why’d you show up after so long anyway?”
My heart raced as Sal gave him the exact sa answer he’d given Gio and . Everything was going so perfectly. Maybe, if he stopped interrogating my dad, I could get the night back on track.
“It just sounds a little convenient, you know?” Alessandro leaned back in his chair. “The way I see it, you fucked off when it was convenient for you and ca back when you thought you might get sothing.” A storm cloud gathered on his brow. “Olivia’s our family now, not yours.”
I shot up, screeching my chair against the floor.
“Enough,” Gio said quietly.
“I need to change Elio,” I spat, pulling him out of his high chair and storming out of the room.
How dare Alessandro say sothing like that? I’d asked them all to be on their best behavior, but still, they insisted on disliking him. He was my dad. Shouldn’t I get to decide who was my family?
I sagged against the hallway to the bedroom, tears pressing against the backs of my eyes. The night was ruined.
“Livi?” Sal poked his head into the hall.
I scrubbed my cheeks and stood. “I’m so sorry about him.”
“I don’t take it personal.” He stepped closer with a rueful smile. “You’ve been close with them your whole life, and they want you safe.”
I laughed bitterly. “That doesn’t give him the right to talk to you like that.”
Sal patted on the shoulder. “I can take a few questions from a kid half my age. Nothing’s gonna chase away. I want to be part of your life.”
I looked up at him, into the eyes we shared, warm with compassion and love. I smiled at him.
“I do still need to change Elio,” I said.
He took his hand back. “Do what you gotta! Just didn’t like seeing my little girl off on her own.”
This must’ve been what it would be like to have a dad all along, soone to follow you out and tell you what you needed to hear.
“You can help, if you want.”
A soft grin spread across his face. “I happen to be an expert diaper-changer.”
As I took off down the hallway with him, Alessandro’s words rang in my ears. For everything else my father was, he was awfully convenient.
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