My Mafia Husband Gave His Ex a Baby, So I Took Her Husband novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Toast
At the peace dinner, Leandro's mother toasts his ex's baby, Leandro says he gave it to her, and Cece drops her ring in the gravy boat and walks out; in the rain, the ex's husband says he knew the baby wasn't his.
My husband's ex-girlfriend walked into my mother-in-law's dining room on Sunday night carrying a lemon cake.
She kissed me on both cheeks.
"Your favorite," she said. "I remembered."
She was eight months pregnant, and she had carried the cake in herself because she wouldn't let the driver touch it.
Her name was Delfina, and four years ago she had married the head of the Garavani family to seal the peace with ours.
Tonight was the anniversary dinner of that peace.
"You look tired, Cece," she said, and took the bread basket out of my hands.
"Sit. I'll carry it."
Her husband nodded to me from the doorway.
He was a big, quiet man with grey coming in at his temples.
He looked at his wife's stomach, and then he looked at the floor.
My husband had straightened my collar that morning and told me to wear the green dress.
"Nothing changes tonight," he'd said. "Whatever my mother says, you're my wife."
I had asked what his mother was going to say.
He had kissed my forehead and gone to find his keys.
Twelve of us sat down at Agnese's long table.
Agnese took the head, Leandro took the far end, and I sat at his right.
Delfina and Teo sat across from me.
"Cecilia, you aren't eating," Agnese said.
Then, all through the soup, she talked about babies.
She talked about the neighbor's twins and the baby boy her hairdresser had just had.
She looked at me every time she said the word.
I kept my left hand under the table and turned my wedding ring with my thumb.
I had called Saint Brigid's Fertility twice that month about the three embryos we had frozen there.
The nurse kept saying someone would call me back.
When Leandro found out, he said, "The tank will keep, Cece. Don't go stirring it."
I let him say it, because I thought he was protecting me from another bad year.
Agnese stood up with her wine glass.
A cousin at the far end took out his phone and held it up.
He was filming.
"To my first grandchild," Agnese said.
She did not look at me, and she looked straight at Delfina's stomach.
Nobody lifted a glass.
Teo's fork stopped halfway to his mouth.
Delfina put her hand over her belly and looked at Leandro.
I looked at him too.
Leandro did not look surprised.
He set down his napkin and folded it once.
"Mama, sit down," he said, and she sat.
Then he turned his chair toward me.
"Cece, listen to me. It's mine."
The cousin's phone was still up.
"I gave her this child," Leandro said. "Last winter. It was my decision, and I'm telling you here so you don't hear it anywhere else."
His voice was as flat as it was whenever he read me the restaurants' weekly numbers.
"When last winter?" I asked.
"You weren't speaking to me."
"I was grieving."
"I know," he said. "I'm sorry for the timing."
He was sorry for the timing.
I stood up, and my hand tightened around the stem of my glass until it snapped.
I felt nothing at all.
I looked down and saw red running between my fingers onto Agnese's white tablecloth.
"Cece, wait," Delfina said, and half rose with one hand on the table.
"Please. Let me explain."
I did not answer her.
Twelve people watched me, and nobody moved to help.
Agnese had a small, pleased look on her face.
Only Teo was looking at my hand.
I set the broken stem on my plate with my good hand.
Then I took off the wedding ring I had worn for five years and dropped it into the gravy boat in the middle of the table.
It made a small wet sound.
"Thank you for dinner, Agnese," I said.
So I walked out.
Nobody followed me down the hall.
I had no coat and no purse, and Leandro's driver had brought us, so I had no car either.
It was raining in Bridgeport.
I stood on the front porch with my hand held out and let the rain wash the blood off my wrist.
The front door opened and shut behind me.
Teodoro Garavani came down the steps without a coat, and his car was at the curb.
He opened the passenger door.
"You're bleeding," he said. "Get in."
"Your wife is in there."
"She's sitting down. She's fine."
He took a folded handkerchief from his pocket and held it out.
"Please," he said.
I got in the car.
He shut the door gently, walked around, and got in on his side.
He didn't start the engine.
The windows fogged, and through the windshield I could see the light of the dining room and the shapes of people not leaving it.
"My sister Rina's flat is on Taylor Street," I said. "Take me there."
"In a minute," he said.
"Did you know?" I asked.
"No."
I pressed the handkerchief into my palm, and it was warm from his pocket.
Teo looked straight ahead at the rain.
"I knew it wasn't mine," he said. "I didn't know whose."
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