Chapter 9: No Rescue, No More Lies
“Is he going to hurt Giovanni?” I asked.
Vanessa’s mouth tightened. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Tyler said he was going to confront him, not start a fight.”
“That distinction is comforting only if you’ve never heard Tyler get angry.”
“I know.”
I studied her face. She wasn’t asking me to intervene. At least, she hadn’t yet.
“If Tyler wants to talk to Giovanni, he can do it himself,” I said. “I’m not carrying messages between them.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
“And if he’s angry because a picture made him look foolish, that’s his problem to handle.”
Vanessa nodded, eyes lowered to her cup. “I’m sorry this is still landing on you.”
“I don’t want to be pulled into the middle of your marriage,” I reminded her. “That hasn’t changed.”
“I understand.”
I finished my tea. We said goodbye outside the coffee shop, with no promise to meet again and no tidy ending to what we’d discussed. Vanessa had told me the truth about Tyler’s lie. I had told her the truth about what it cost me to hear. That was enough for one afternoon.
On the walk to my car, I took out my phone. Giovanni’s apology was still there, unanswered.
I typed, erased, and started again.
I can hear your explanation. Public place, today. I’m not agreeing to anything else.
His reply came before I reached the corner.
Understood. There’s a café on Wabash a few blocks from you. If that works, I’ll be there in twenty minutes. If not, choose somewhere else.
The choice mattered. I picked the café.
When I arrived, he was already seated at a small table near the front window. He stood when he saw me, then stopped himself from pulling out my chair.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
“I’m here to listen. That’s all you know.”
“Yes.”
He didn’t reach for my hand or suggest that the wedding dance had turned us into something. He waited while I set down my bag and took the chair across from him.
A server came by. I ordered coffee. Giovanni ordered tea. When we were alone again, he folded his hands on the table.
“You asked me to explain why people reacted to my name,” he said.
“I asked because half the ballroom seemed to know you, and you acted as if I shouldn’t ask.”
“You were right to ask.”
That was not the answer I expected. It took some of the force out of the question I’d prepared.
“Then tell me.”
“My family has been established in Chicago for a long time. We have interests in several businesses, and we work with other families and companies on development and investment projects. That puts our name on invitations, donor lists, and business pages.” He paused. “People recognize it because they’ve dealt with someone in the family, or because they hope to.”
“So you’re important.”
“I have influence. My family has influence. That doesn’t make every rumor about us true, or mean I can order people to do what I want.”
“I didn’t say you could.”
“No. But I wanted to be clear.”
The coffee arrived. I wrapped my hands around the warm cup.
“And the Vales?” I asked.
“My aunt believes a closer relationship between our families would be useful. She arranged for me and Mara to be introduced at the wedding. She expected us to consider whether something more might follow.”
“Did you agree to that?”
“I agreed to the introduction. I didn’t agree to marry her.”
“Did Mara?”
“No.”
I held his gaze. “You already know she doesn’t want a marriage arranged for business.”
“Yes. She was clear.”
“And you knew all this before you asked me to pretend to be your wife.”
“Yes.”
“Then you knew exactly what you were doing.”
He didn’t look away. “I knew enough to know I wanted a shield. I told myself it was only a few minutes and that you could walk away whenever you wanted. I didn’t think through what it would cost you to be the person I chose.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“No.”
“You called me your wife.”
“Yes.”
“You let people look at me and make up a story.”
“Yes.”
His voice stayed steady, but there was no attempt to soften the answers.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Not because it made Tyler jealous. Not because anyone misread a photo. I’m sorry because I used you to solve a problem I should have faced myself.”
I watched him for a moment. “That’s better than saying you were protecting me.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Good. I don’t need a rescue.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Because it’s easy to say that when I’m sitting across from you. It would be harder if I said no to something you wanted.”
“Then I’ll have to show you I understand by accepting your no.”
There it was: a decent answer, perhaps. But a decent answer wasn’t proof of a changed habit. I had learned not to confuse a man’s remorse with the safety of trusting him again.
“Why didn’t you just refuse your aunt?” I asked.
“I have refused her.”
“Before or after you borrowed my name?”
“Before.” He glanced down at his tea. “But I kept hoping I could avoid a family argument by making the introduction seem irrelevant. Then you were there, Tyler was watching, and I chose the easy way out.”
“Easy for you.”
“Yes.”
“And if I hadn’t gone along with the dance?”
“I would have had to handle it myself.”
“You still do.”
“I know.”
The server set down my coffee. I waited until she was gone before speaking again.
“Your aunt knows I’m not your wife.”
“She does.”
“The Bells?”
“I corrected it with them that night. And with anyone else I knew I’d told.”
“But the picture is still out there.”
“I can’t make people take back every caption. I can correct what I said and stop adding to it. I won’t use your image again.”
It was the first thing he’d said that sounded like an action instead of an apology.
“Good,” I said. “And don’t use my name to make your family listen.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t use my daughter, either. You don’t know her.”
“I won’t.”
I took a sip. The coffee was hotter than I expected, and I set it back down.
“Tyler may come after you about the photo,” I said.
“Vanessa told you?”
“She said he plans to confront you.”
“I assumed he might.”
“Then deal with him directly. Don’t make me part of it.”
“I won’t.”
“And I’m not going to show up somewhere to help you prove you can make your own choices.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
He stopped, then seemed to think better of leaving it there.
“Would you consider coming to a family gathering as yourself? No pretending. No introduction as my wife. You could meet my aunt on your own terms, or leave whenever you wanted.”
“Why?”
“So I can be honest about who you are. And so you can see the family situation for yourself, if you want to.”
“That sounds suspiciously like an invitation to get involved in your problem.”
“It could become that. You don’t have to accept.”
“Then I’ll decide later.”
“Of course.”
He didn’t ask when. He didn’t tell me I owed him a chance. I finished my coffee, and when I stood, he stood too.
“Thank you for hearing me,” he said.
“I heard you. That isn’t the same as trusting you.”
“I know.”
I left without agreeing to see him again.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed while I was still walking toward my car. Giovanni had sent a message.
I won’t ask again. My aunt just sent me the formal notice. The gathering is confirmed.
May you like
A second message followed, with a screenshot of the notice. It was addressed to Giovanni and listed the Fierro and Vale families as expected attendees. Near the bottom, one line had been highlighted.
Mara Vale’s attendance has been confirmed.
