Page 45 of Secrets of the Brother
I gave her a rueful smile. “I see my sister endeared herself to your family after the wedding.”
Gabriella opened her mouth as if to speak then closed it.
Then said, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy on a certain matter, but all I’m going to say is, if you knew the full truth, you wouldn’t be feeling quite as guilty for not being sad right now.”
How odd.
As strange as her statement was, I didn’t want to dwell on it.
I was already feeling all kinds of weird about what I'd just done with Enzo. I folded my hands on the edge of the tub and rested my chin on them. “Can I ask you a question?”
“As long as it’s personal.”
I gave her a half-hearted smile before asking her, “Do you think it’s wrong… I mean, do you think I’m a bad person…that is—”
“Should you have fucked your sister’s widower the day after her funeral?”
“Oh my God!” I groaned.
It was even worse when she put it that bluntly… and it was already pretty fucking bad.
I dunked my head below the water.
Gabriella pulled me to the surface by my hair.
I gasped for air as I swiped the water from my eyes and face.
“Don’t be so dramatic. You and Enzo are so alike. You both think the world should be viewed in stark black-and-white terms. Well, it’s not like that. It’s not even gray. It’s a messed up, mottled Jackson Pollock painting of splats, smears, and drips of all three colors.”
“What is that even supposed to mean?” I sputtered.
She threw her hand up in the air. “Who cares?is what it’s supposed to mean. Who the fuck cares who you are fucking?”
I snatched at the towel and wiped my face. “People care!”
She shrugged. “People? What people?”
“I don’t know. People! My parents. People in the village. Enzo’s father and brother. People! People will talk.”
“For starters, Enzo’s father is the last man on earth to pass judgment on anyone’s bed partner. I doubt his brother would give a damn. Your parents shouldn’t be commenting on your sex life, and as for the rest, why would you care?”
“What do you mean why?”
“Exactly that. Why would you care? What is the point in caring what others say? Talk is just talk. It doesn’t harm you, so who the fuck cares what they say. Let them talk.”
I drained my wineglass. “That’s all well and good to say, but that’s not how the real world works.”
“You’re what, twenty-one, twenty-two? You’re a baby, what do you know of the real world?”
“I know I have no intention of getting my heart stomped on again,” I sighed. “And I know that loving someone and them being the right person for you, the right choice, are not the same things.”
Gabriella was quiet for several moments. Her voice was uncharacteristically soft and low when she finally spoke. “It seems I was wrong. Seems you do know a lot about how the real world works.”
She stood. Taking the wineglass from my hand, she gathered up the half empty bottle and corkscrew. “I’ll let you finish your bath. I’ve laid out a cute Valentino A-line dress in burnt umber and gold from last season for you.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll take you home when you’re ready.” She closed the door behind her.
