All I've Never Wanted(112)
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For the next week and a half, I couldn’t push Lexi’s words out of my mind, but I didn’t mention them to anyone else. Not Roman, not Carlo, not even my father. I mean, the whole thing was just unbelievable, like something in a movie.
Could someone hate my family that much? It was hard to imagine. Up until a few months ago, I was practically invisible. My parents didn’t have any enemies that I knew of. It was just baffling.
Still, with Thanksgiving just around the corner, I was determined to push those negative thoughts out of my mind for at least one night. Actually, with the exception of my run in with Lexi, everything else in my life was falling into place.
My relationship with Roman was going fairly smoothly. Sure, we had a few minor arguments here and there, because honestly, he could be a huge idiot sometimes, but he was also a lot sweeter and more thoughtful than I ever thought he could be. We went out on dates several times a week, from dinners at expensive restaurants to more low-key outings to the park.
Can you believe he’s never been to a public park? That boy had no idea what he was missing out on, but now, I can’t tear him away from the swings. The park was also a really good place to walk Mickey, which we did together sometimes. Mickey and Roman still have their differences, but at least the former has stopped peeing all over Roman’s Armani shoes.
When I told Roman it was out of love that Mickey did that, because “isn’t peeing supposed to be marking your territory? You don’t mark things you don’t love,” he glared at me and told me in no uncertain terms that he was not a “thing” and that if Mickey peed on his custom-made shoes one more time, he was going to use him to make a dog fur coat and give it to his animal-hating aunt in Milan as a Christmas present.
Of course, that prompted Mickey to bite down on Roman’s finger, which didn't help matters. But that's another story.
I’ve continued my friendship with James, because, much to Roman’s chagrin, I am not the type of girl who will stop being friends with someone just because her boyfriend said so. Roman will just have to get over it.
By the time actual Thanksgiving night rolled around, I was a nervous wreck, but for an entirely different reason than you might think.
“Mom? Mom! Have you seen my pearl earrings?” I asked, bursting frantically into my parents’ room. I studiously avoided my dad’s gaze as he finished knotting his tie.
“Ah, I have them right here.” My mom held up the pearl drop earrings my grandmother had given me as a birthday present last year. “I thought you didn’t like pearls.”
“I don’t.” I quickly clipped them on. “But it looks classy, right?”
She smiled knowingly at me. “You look beautiful. You shouldn’t be nervous.”
“Nervous? Why would I be nervous?” My voice was high-pitched as I smoothed down the front of my simple black dress with a shaking hand. “I’m just meeting the wife of the richest man in the world.”
Yep. I was meeting the parents tonight. Apparently, it was tradition for everyone to have a huge Thanksgiving dinner at Roman’s house. According to Adriana, he has “the best cooks,” and this year, since I was dating the heir himself, my family was invited.
Personally I think my parents are slightly relieved. We’ve never been huge celebrators of Thanksgiving, and my mom hated making turkey.
“I’m sure she’ll love you,” my dad said, gazing at me hopefully.
I didn’t meet his eyes. “Thanks,” I mumbled. Things have been less frigid between us since I now knew he told the truth about him and Lexi having never slept together, but still. He did cheat on my mom, even if the person he’d cheated on her with had been hired to seduce him.
No. don’t think about that now, I instructed myself as we piled into my dad’s SUV. Just think of happy things. I rested my head on the back of my seat, trying to focus on nothing other than the soft classical music piping through the speakers. My mom was a huge classical music fan.
By the time we arrived at the Fioris’ estate, I had calmed down somewhat. My parents, on the other hand, were gushing over the Versailles-like structure in front of them, especially my architect dad.
“Whoa. Is this a house or a palace?” my dad muttered, getting out of the car and handing his keys to the valet.
When we stepped into the giant foyer, two impeccably groomed women came over to take our coats, and I saw my friends milling about, talking quietly. Among them were several well-dressed older couples who were clearly their parents.
“Maya! You’re here!” Venice bounded over, her eyes shining happily as she hugged me and greeted my parents. As my best friend, she also received a dinner invitation. “I can’t believe I’m celebrating Thanksgiving with the Fioris,” she whispered excitedly. “I think my mom’s actually proud of me for once.”
I glanced over her shoulder to see her mother, a willowy redhead who’d maintained her body from her modeling days, speaking with a couple who had to be Carlo’s parents, since they shared his exact same coloring and had similar features.
To my dismay, I saw that Rico was also there, though everyone was avoiding him like the plague. That didn’t seem to faze him at all. He was leaning against a wall, dressed not in formalwear but in a plain blue T-shirt and the type of ratty jeans you bought at Barneys for $500. He caught my eye and lifted his beer bottle in a silent toast before taking a swig, never taking his gaze off me.