11. Soundtrack Auld Lang Syne, and Rossi family squabbling
CHAPTER 11
SOUNDTRACK: AULD LANG SYNE, AND ROSSI FAMILY SQUABBLING
Damien is seated at his uncles’ dining table, nursing a glass of wine, trying to unwind. It’s New Year’s Eve, and he’s well fed. Everything is fine.
Mostly.
But even under the best of circumstances, a Rossi family gathering is not the most relaxing place in the world. The twins Benito and Zara, who are three years younger than Damien, are bickering over the definition of rock music. Or something. While his brother Alec is trying to convince his uncle Otto to invest in a new brewery business idea.
“I don’t want any part of your get-rich-quick scheme,” his uncle grumbles. “Talk to me when you have a real plan.”
“There’s more lasagna,” his mother says, offering Damien the serving spoon. “And more sausages.”
“Mom, I’m stuffed,” he says. Did she not see all the food he just ate?
“I still worry about you,” she says.
“He eats plenty, Ma,” Benito says, sitting down beside him. “Relax.”
“I’ll go get the dessert,” she says, and Damien groans. He hasn’t left room for dessert.
“The holidays make people crazy,” Zara stage whispers, grabbing the lasagna pan to clear it from the table .
“She’s like this all the time,” Benito points out.
Then he offers to refill Damien’s wine glass, but Damien shakes him off. “No more for me, thanks.”
Benito tops up his own glass and sits down. “You doing okay?”
“Sure,” he says, irritated at the intrusion. He has a big, nosy family and they have been asking after his welfare since he got home from his second deployment, battered and sad.
And, yeah, things were bad for a little while there. But they’re better now.
Mostly.
“Look,” Benito says in a low voice. “I heard about your little adventure the other night.”
Damien’s stomach tightens. “Who told you?”
“I did,” Zara says, reemerging from the kitchen.
“Thanks,” he says tightly. “Real helpful.” The twins have always been close, though. Except when they’re not. He shouldn’t be too surprised that Zara spilled the beans.
“Any cops knocking on your door?” she asks.
He shakes his head and glances toward the kitchen door, hoping his mother isn’t hearing any of this.
“Are you struggling again?” Benito asks.
Once again, it’s not Damien’s favorite topic. But he resents the question ten percent less coming from his youngest brother, because Benny tried the army, too. He came home with a knife wound but a lot less PTSD than Damien. “I’m not really struggling, I promise. This was an isolated incident. And, no, I haven’t heard from law enforcement.”
“Law enforcement?” his mom yelps, appearing in the doorway with a chocolate cake. “Who are the cops visiting and why?”
“Damien got into a bar fight,” Zara chirps.
He groans loudly. “Christ, Zara. You said you’d keep quiet.”
“Yeah—in front of anyone who’d get you in trouble,” she clarifies. “Mom’s not going to report you.”
“A bar fight?” his mother says. “Damien why? ”
Great. He’s just spent the whole week trying not to think about it. And now his whole family is staring at him, looking for answers.
“It wasn’t just a random act of violence,” he explains, sounding as sullen as he feels. “There was this guy at the Gin Mill, getting drunk and hitting on a woman.”
“That’s nothing new,” his brother Alec says. And he’d know because the Gin Mill is Alec’s bar.
“Yeah, I realize that.” Damien sounds tired to his own ears. “The problem is that the guy is married to a friend of mine.”
“Sakes alive,” his grouch of an uncle says. “Why put your nose in? Sounds like it was none of your business.”
Damien already knows that it’s none of his business, but he still resents the comment. “It wasn’t just flirting, Otto. He was really going for it. They were going to go back to her place. He was trying to get Connor’s attention to close out his tab.”
“And Connor was totally ignoring him,” Zara adds cheerfully. “We’ve all served this prick before, and we know he’s a shitty tipper.”
Otto reaches for the stack of cake plates. “Maybe the customers would tip better if you didn’t ignore them.”
“Maybe you can kiss my ass,” his sister says under her breath, and Benito chuckles.
“Who’s this friend?” their mother asks. “The one with the skanky husband?”
“She’s… You don’t know her,” Damien says quickly. “She’s a taxi customer. Didn’t go to school around here.”
“Rich girl,” Zara says. “Super pretty. Way out of Damien’s league. She’s the one who asked me for his address when he was in the sandbox.”
All their faces swing in his direction again. “Is this an ex?” Benito asks.
“No way. But she’s a friend , like I said. So I put down my pool cue?—”
“He was losing to me anyway,” Zara inserts.
“—and told the guy I’d go around behind the bar to help close out his tab, because his wife must be expecting him at home .”
Everyone cackles.
“You should have seen the other woman’s face,” Zara says. “I wish I had a video. She clearly had no idea he was married. And now the guy is getting all pissed off, telling Damien he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. And Damien holds up his phone and offers to call the guy’s wife to straighten it out.”
“I’m so sorry I missed this,” Alec says with a chuckle.
“You should be.” Zara hoots. “The dude had no idea who Damien was, either. You could see his wheels turning as he tried to figure out how bad this could get. He got so frustrated he grabbed Damien by the jacket.”
“Now that’s just dumb,” their mother says as she cuts into the cake with a chef’s knife. “There aren’t that many people tougher than a Rossi.”
“It was dumb,” Zara agrees. “This dude looked like an accountant.”
“Real estate investor,” Damien mumbles, picturing Cam’s Hollywood-smug face. He’s all cheekbones and dark gold hair. The kind of guy who always gets the girl whether he deserves her or not.
“Yeah, he looked expensive,” Zara says. “But now he’s expensive with a big black eye. I hope he doesn’t sue you.”
“He won’t,” Benito chimes in. “Because then he’d have to explain it to his wife.”
“Good point.” Alec helps himself to a piece of cake. “But you could still tell the wife. Are you close to this girl?”
Damien shakes his head. “Not that close.”
“Although he’d like to be,” Zara says.
He gives his sister a grumpy look. “Don’t make assumptions.”
“Come on . I know you. The whole reason this bothers you so much is that the guy doesn’t deserve her.”
He closes his weary eyes and sighs. “No, he doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean I want to tell her that she’s probably married to a serial cheater. He had all the moves.” We’ll have to go to your place because my younger sister is staying with me . Damien had felt sick listening to it. The guy probably doesn’t even have a younger sister.
“If it was my marriage, I’d want to know,” Alec says.
“Like anyone would ever marry you,” somebody mumbles.
“Honey, I bet she does know,” their mother says. “Even if she hasn’t admitted it to herself yet, on some level she knows who she married. ”
That shuts all of them up for a second, because their mother has a lot of experience with bad marriages.
But Damien isn’t sure if this applies to Nicolette. If it were any other woman, he might agree. But she’s the most open, trusting person he’s ever met. She expects the best of people.
Plus—and this thought makes his stomach churn—she bought a pregnancy book that time in Burlington. What if she’s pregnant? Hell, she might already have a child.
He puts his elbows on the table and sighs. “What if she didn’t even believe me?”
“Wouldn’t there be a security video?” Zara asks.
“ Savage ,” says Benito, high-fiving his twin.
“There’s probably some footage,” Alec agrees. “What it shows depends where he and the woman were standing. We can check tomorrow.”
Damien buries his head in his hands. God, this is getting so convoluted. Even if there is footage, what is he supposed to do?
Here are some pictures of your cheating husband that I captured off my brother’s security system. Sorry I gave him a black eye. After you call a divorce lawyer, want to have dinner?
He looks up suddenly. “There’s no way I can tell her this. It’s too self-serving. I don’t know anything about their marriage. They might even have a baby.”
Zara winces. And then her eyes dart over to the corner of the room, where her own toddler is sleeping in a Pack’n Play. “I guess you can’t be the one to tell her,” she says sadly.
“I don’t see how I can,” he agrees.
But then she adds something under her breath that he doesn’t quite catch. It sounds like “Although maybe someone else could.”