Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father by Caroline Above Story

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I watch Kent carefully as he smiles at the memory and then adds pieces of his own, making Natalia laugh- perhaps a little. too hard – when he reminds her that that was the first time he ever had fois gras, and how much he hated it. The conversation: passes mostly like this, with Natalia and Kent and Alessi trading fond memories of their youth, sometimes slipping into Italian to better express their meaning. 

And as I look around at the table, watching Daniel laugh along with them in the moments when I cannot understand the words, and catching Natalia watching me when she thinks I’m not looking, I realize that…this dinner could very well be about me. About making it quite clear to me precisely how much I do not fit in this family – the little American girl who has never been to Italy or France, who cannot understand Italian, or cook, and who certainly has never had fois 

gras. 

And who does not like it when I try it tonight. 

As I push my little plate away, a single bite taken out of my pate–and–baguette, I lean over to Daniel to whisper in his ear. 

“Daniel, who organized this dinner?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. 

“Natalia,” he replies, leaning close to tell me in my ear. “A 

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surprise. The chef is an old friend, apparently she organized it 

this afternoon.” 

Nodding, smiling at him to let him know that all is well, I turn back to the table better prepared to go to war. Because I’m figuring out that that’s precisely what this is. 

War. 

But Natalia surprises me by ignoring me further, chatting lightly mostly to Kent throughout the next two courses, keeping up such a steady stream of conversation at the small table that the rest of us don’t really have a chance to change the subject. I do note, as well, that our glasses are liberally resupplied with wine, and that Natalia never finishes hers (so I don’t either), though each of the men do. 

I watch Natalia quite, quite closely as she pretends to ignore me, so I notice the precise moment when she makes her move. It happens just after the meat course is served – a gorgeous roasted game hen for each of us – and each of us are provided with our fifth glass of wine, which I’m curious to see Kent lift to his lips, having fallen under her nostalgic spell more than I thought him capable of doing. 

“Kent,” Natalia says, a fond smile on her face, her eyes sparkling curiously, “when do you think it is that you will take a second wife? It is long past time, no?” 

Kent goes still for a second, just a second, and I feel Daniel perk up next to me curiously. But I watch, fascinated, realizing that 

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Natalia has bided her time so precisely that neither Kent nor Daniel bristle at her, which I know they usually would at anyone who dared ask Kent about his romantic intentions at any other 

time. 

Masterful, I think, leaning my elbow on the table and resting my chin on my hand, flicking my eyes to Kent, curious to see what will happen next. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Natalia,” he laughs- laughs, I think, well done Natalia. “That can’t possibly be on my mind now. I’m too busy.” 

“Ohhh,” she replies, and I feel my spine stiffen a little as I watch Natalia lean closer to Kent, reaching her hand up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his car. “But that is precisely what a wife can do for you, no? Take some of the pressure off so that you can concentrate on what really matters?” 

And I’m glad I have my chin in my hand at that moment because, honestly, if it weren’t, I’d be at deep risk of my mouth falling open. Because I realize quite suddenly that I was wrong: this dinner isn’t about Natalia making a move against me. 

She’s making a move for Kent. 

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Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father