The Rival Roomies Page 5

  “How was Vegas?” my dad asks, filling his plate as the dishes get passed. “Your cousins? Good?”

  “Yeah. Everything went well.”

  “Just well?” Giada asks, eyeing me.

  I shrug. “I think the bride and groom-to-be had a good time.”

  She presses her lips together. “Did you know that Valentina was there at the same time as you?”

  It’s not really a question. She’s baiting me.

  “Did you talk to Carm?” I ask ma. He’s such a fucking mama’s boy. He can’t keep a secret to save his life.

  Ma cuts up her chicken. “Yes. Yesterday.”

  I grip my silverware tighter. “And he told you?”

  “Dom?” Val whispers from next to me.

  “Told me what?”

  I’ve seen every side of Ma over the years and she’s doing her ‘I know, but you’re going to have to tell me’ act. She’s not even trying to hide it.

  “About Val and me?”

  Val’s silverware drops onto her plate.

  “What about you and Valentina?” Mr. Cavallo asks a little louder than necessary.

  I sigh. “Just tell me. What do you know?”

  Ma places her silverware down calmly and leans her forearms on the table. “A reporter called Giada to see if she had any comment about her daughter’s recent marriage.”

  “Why would a reporter call?” I ask.

  “That’s not really the point, is it?” Ma snipes.

  “I’m so stupid,” Val says. I look at her, and she turns to meet my gaze. “Max. Because Max is my ex, they probably have those stupid gossip sites searching marriage records in Vegas.”

  She’s right. How did we not think of that?

  “So it’s true then?” Ma asks.

  Before I can say anything, Val asks Giada, “What did you say?”

  “I told them I couldn’t be happier. That you and Dom have always been meant to be together.”

  “Ma! Why would you tell them that?”

  “Because that’s the truth.”

  “You’re lucky your ma is so smart and can think on her feet.” Mr. Cavallo grabs his wife’s hand. “It’s not as if we knew ahead of time. No one asked for my daughter’s hand.” His narrowed gaze lands on me.

  “Dom and I…” Val glances at me. “We’re getting an annulment.”

  Our mas gasp, and their faces drain of color.

  Ma leans over the table as though she doesn’t have perfect hearing. “You’re what?”

  “Getting an annulment. The marriage was a drunken mistake.” I fill in the gaps for her.

  “A drunken mistake?” My dad sips his homemade wine. “You’re saying you didn’t run off and get married?”

  I sink into the chair, feeling sick to my stomach. Shit. My parents thought this was for real.

  Valentina’s staring at me to answer them.

  “We ran into each other in Vegas and had too much to drink. For some reason, we got married, even though neither of us remember much.”

  “Excuse me.” Ma slides her chair back, covering her mouth, and disappears behind the kitchen door.

  “Anna.” Pa sighs, then his angry eyes settle on me. “After your mama got over the shock of you not having a Catholic wedding, she was so happy when Giada called her. We thought you didn’t know how to tell us, but now you say it’s all a mistake and you’re going to get an annulment? You break your mama’s heart.” My dad’s chair slides back, his hands pressing on the wooden table as he stands.

  “Pa.” I place my napkin on the table, preparing to follow him, but he puts his hand out and continues on to the kitchen.

  “Valentina, this is true?” Giada asks her daughter.

  “Yes, Mama, it’s true. We’ve already signed the papers.” She looks into her lap where she’s fiddling with her fingers. “It’s not real.”

  “But…” Giada looks between the two of us. “You two were always—”

  “No, Mama.” Val shakes her head. “We were never meant to be.”

  Giada swallows, and her gaze veers to her husband. “I’m going to check on Anna.” She leaves.

  Now it’s just the two of us with Mr. Cavallo. Great. I feel like a teenager who got caught feeling up someone’s daughter.

  We sit in strained silence because no one really knows what to say.

  “When we got the news, I was upset because what good Catholic Italian boy doesn’t ask the father to marry his only daughter.” His gaze is on me. “But Giada said it must’ve been impromptu. That you didn’t have time to call me. I thought she was crazy, but after talking with your parents about this secret wedding, I made amends with the anger because you’ve always looked out for our Valentina, Dominic. Looked out for us.” He gives me a knowing look, and I shift in my seat. “You’d make a great husband.”

  Husband? I’m no damn husband.

  “Now you tell us it was a mistake and that you’re going to get an annulment. Valentina, that’s two marriages for you. When I was young, marriage meant something. It wasn’t something you do when you’re drunk in Vegas and then if you change your mind, you just sign some paperwork and act like it never happened. Now, I’m going in there to comfort your mother, and I suggest the two of you think about your carelessness and how it’s affected your families.”

  I feel like the lowest of the low right now.

  Mr. Cavallo stands, leaving me with Val.

  Her head drops into her hands and her back vibrates with her sobs. “I’m a disgrace.”

  I place my arm over her shoulder, and she turns into me, burying her face in my chest as I smooth my hand over her long chestnut hair. A few minutes later, all four parents come out of the kitchen and stop in their tracks when they take in the scene.

  “New plan,” Ma says.

  Giada smiles, and all four of them take a seat.

  Call me psychic, but I’m pretty sure I won’t like this.

  Chapter Eight

  Valentina

  * * *

  From the way my dad can still give me a helluva “I’m disappointed in you” speech, you wouldn’t think I’m thirty-six, divorced—soon to be twice—and raising my own child.

  I turn my head in Dom’s arms and see our mas taking their seats, but they aren’t upset like they were before.

  “What new plan?” Dom asks.

  “You’re going to remain married,” Anna says.

  “No, we’re not.” Dom’s insistence pulls at my insecurity that I’m not enough for him. “We’re in our thirties. You can’t tell us what to do.”

  “I am your mama, and this was not a drunken mistake. The two of you got married for a reason, and you’re both going to act like mature adults and deal with the situation you created. You’re going to stay married and give this an honest try.”

  Dom scoffs and shakes his head. “You’re insane.”

  “Don’t you talk to your mama like that,” Mr. Mancini says to Dom.

  I’m not sure what to say, so I remain quiet, letting him handle the absurdity of our parents’ plan.

  “She can’t make me stay married,” Dom says to his father. “We made a mistake. It’s over and done.”

  A tear slips from Anna’s eyes. “What did I do to you?”

  “Ma.” Dom sighs, letting out a long, exasperated breath. “Nothing.”

  “Your brothers are all settled down. Why not you? I should be a grandmother by now. But you just work, work, work. No one remembers a man for how much money he has when he dies, Dominic.” Anna points at Dom, but he’s rolling his eyes like an adolescent child.

  Anna shakes her head and looks at Mr. Mancini as though Dom’s a lost cause.

  “Valentina, this is marriage number two for you,” Ma says. “We understood Max. The problems with him, that maybe the pregnancy was the cause for the marriage. But this time… why are you giving up?”

  Now they’re going to Catholic guilt trip me. Great.

  “I’m not giving up on anything.” I glance at Dom. “It w
as a mistake. We weren’t in our right minds when we did it. I know that disappoints you and that I’m a failure of a daughter, but you can’t make me stay married to someone I don’t…” I stop talking because I could never say I don’t want to be married to Dom. There were times I thought maybe we were meant to be together. But that was a younger version of us both.

  “Listen to us. We’re older and wiser than the two of you. Give this a chance,” Mr. Mancini says, staring us in the eye. “You might not see it now, but there was a reason you married. Something a lot greater than the two of you did that.”

  “Pa.” Dom throws his hands in the air. “We’ve already signed the papers. It’s over. It’s done.” His curt tone startles both of our mas.

  “No!” Anna stands, and although she’s not big, she’s still scary. “You listen to me, Dominic Anthony Mancini. You married that girl and you’re going to honor your commitment. Three months. You are going to give it an honest try for three months.”

  “No.” He almost laughs in her face. “I’m thirty-six years old. You don’t get to dictate my life.”

  “Dominic, if I have to warn you again about your behavior toward your mama, you’re going to be sorry,” Mr. Mancini says, his hands clenched on top of the table.

  “What are you going to do—spank me? I don’t understand why you’re being so ridiculous. You want to know the truth? I was drunk and saw Valentina was in Vegas, so I texted her. We got together with one intention—to have sex. Neither of us are sure how we got the marriage license, let alone got to the chapel, but we did. It was all about the sex, so drop this whole ‘bigger power’ and ‘fate’ shit.”

  Anna crumbles into her chair, and Ma tries to console her.

  “Dom,” I sigh.

  His scathing eyes zero in on me as though I’m next in line to be told off. We lock gazes for a few seconds, and he cools off a bit.

  He sighs. “Ma.” He rounds the table and bends down in front of her. “I know you want the best for all of us. Enzo and Carm have settled down. They found their person. Val and I…” His gaze travels to me and tears well in my eyes.

  I’m not his person. Is that what he’s saying?

  “We share a twisted past and…” He blows out a breath, his gaze staying on mine. “We’re complicated. If you force us…”

  Her hand touches her son’s face, and his fierce bravado cracks. “Three months. That’s all I’m asking.”

  I choke out a laugh because her boys are as stubborn as her. She’s not going to accept no for an answer.

  “Do you know what you’re asking?” he says in a pained voice.

  Anna nods. “I’m asking you to follow through on the promise you made that night.”

  “Give me a minute.” He raises to his feet. “Val, can we talk?”

  I slide my chair out from the table and follow him out the front door.

  Once the door is shut behind us, he sits on the railing of the stairway. “She’s not going to let it go.”

  “I know.”

  “I say we just agree to it. We’ll act like we’re on board, but really we’re buying time until they stop with all this fate talk.”

  My arms wrap around my stomach. What choice do I have? My parents already think I’m a failure. At least if I pretend to give this marriage a chance, it’ll soften the blow of having a daughter who’s been twice married.

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  He nods. “My cousin’s wedding is in five weeks. We keep it up until it’s over so my ma can save face. Then we file the annulment. Tell them we can’t do the three months. It’s not working and we need to go our separate ways.”

  Dom’s business side is alive and kicking right now. There’s no emotion in his decision. It’s strictly about reaching the goal of making his ma happy and getting our annulment.

  “Sure.”

  “They’ll make us attend Sunday dinners together. We’ll have to pretend we’re actually trying.”

  “Okay.”

  His arms fall into his lap. “I’m sorry, Val.”

  What is he sorry for? The fact that he doesn’t want to be married to me or that we have to keep up a charade for a few weeks?

  “Let’s go agree and make them happy.” I open the door, but he pulls on my elbow and I fall into his chest.

  He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “If you don’t want to do this, just say the word.”

  The smell of Dom overwhelms me in the best way possible. I’d never deny him when we’re this close. “It’s fine. Five weeks is nothing.”

  Our eyes lock, and a whole slew of emotions float back and forth between the two of us. I’ll never figure out what he thinks in that beautiful mind of his.

  “Thanks.”

  My hands slide down his chest until they’re resting on his hips. “You’re welcome.”

  I circle on my heel and open the door. Our parents are eating, and I spot the annulment papers on the table, which means someone went through my purse. I swear there’s no privacy in this family.

  “Okay, we’re going to give it a try.” Thankfully Dom is doing the lying. I’m not sure I could do it.

  “Oh, Dominic!” Anna stands and rounds the table. “My good boy. I love you.” She hugs him, and Dom’s smile says he’d do about anything for his mama.

  Ma leaves the table and comes over to embrace me. “Valentina.”

  I catch my dad picking up the papers from the middle of the table. Mr. Mancini grabs a sterling silver tray and a match, then he lights the papers on fire.

  “Welcome to our family,” Anna says to me, the two mothers changing spots.

  “Thank you.” I ignore the stabbing feeling in my chest over this not being real.

  “Now, next line of business. You’ll probably want to move in with Valentina because of Ryder,” Ma says.

  Dom’s head swivels toward me. Looks like Mr. All-Business-All-the-Time didn’t think about that.

  I secretly want to high-five Anna for playing a good hand.

  Chapter Nine

  Valentina

  * * *

  “You can’t just tell him you’re taking him to Europe and not talk to me first,” I lower my voice. The last thing I need is for someone to take our damn picture again and splash it on a magazine so I can read about how Max Sommerland and his ex-wife were fighting in a restaurant. Then again, maybe that’s better than when we actually got along for a brief moment and they said we were getting back together and poor eleven-year-old Ryder thought his wish had come true.

  “He’s my son. I pay support. I hold his insurance. He’s turning sixteen and I want to experience a trip to Europe with him.” He cuts up his steak with a smile. This is the fake Max Sommerland who, even when he’s seething, can plaster on a brilliant white smile.

  “All court-ordered. As is the fact that I’m the primary caregiver. I know we’ve been lax with Max’s schedule as he’s gotten older, but a six-week trip right before school starts? I won’t see him for the rest of his summer break.”

  “You had him for the first half. It’s not my problem if you’d rather go all over God’s creation teaching girls in tutus to twirl.” He brings the fork to his mouth upside down and slides the piece of steak off it.

  God, how I loathe him.

  “Undermining my profession again? Get a new script. I guess making old women laugh with your stupidity every morning is saving the world?”

  He winks. “Let’s remember who funded your first studio.”

  “Let’s remember who raised your son.”

  “Let’s remember whose money allowed you to do it.”

  I grip my napkin under the table, surprised it’s not in shreds by now. Leaning back in the chair, I catch an older woman pointing at Max, her eyes sparkling like diamonds. “One of your admirers is about to approach.”

  I sip my wine and watch the woman cautiously smile as if she needs my permission to approach him. She rises from her seat and walks over.

  “Max Sommerland?” she asks w
ith a pen and a receipt in her hand.

  “In the flesh.” He puts down his fork and knife, wipes his mouth with his napkin, and holds out his hand for the pen. Meanwhile, I’m gagging from the endorphins he gets whenever this happens.

  “Can my husband take a picture?” She waves him over, this time without permission.

  The poor man sighs, looks at his meal, and stands.

  “Of course, but my friend can take it.” He signals to me.

  He’s got to be kidding.

  “Friend?” I clarify, but his permanent smile is on display, though his eyes are cold as they stare me down.

  I smile and accept the phone before snapping the picture. I pass it back to the woman. The poor husband came over for nothing, but he does put his hand out for Max.

  “Thank you,” the woman says. “I hope the rumors aren’t true, because you guys make a beautiful couple.”

  “Thank you,” Max says.

  “Rumors?” I ask.

  She stops a foot away.

  “Oh, stop with your gossip. Let’s go finish our meal,” her husband says, grabbing her hand.

  “That you got married this weekend,” the woman says. “Congratulations.”

  Max chokes on his piece of steak because he couldn’t wait until she actually walked away to continue eating.

  “I’m sorry?” I ask with wide eyes.

  “Vegas. This site I follow said you got married and sadly not to Max. My gals and I were hoping for a reconciliation.” Her lips dip as if we’re the favorite boy band who just announced their breakup.

  Max gulps his water and reaches for his phone on the table. After dinner with my parents, I scoured the internet and could only find a few mentions about me getting married in Vegas on some stupid little nothing blogs.

  “Nice meeting you,” I say as she walks away.

  “You got married? And you’re pitch-forking me over a trip to Europe?” Max’s fingers are flying over the screen.

  I didn’t figure people actually read those tiny blogs.

  Max’s thumbs stop moving and his eyes scan down the screen. “I thought you were smarter than this.”