Chapter 0050
Tristin turns her eyes to me as soon as I am seated, the baby in herp looking up at me curiously.
“Hello, Fay,” she says, her face cold. But hey, at least she’s talking to me.
“Hi,” I say, giving her as bright a smile as I can manage. Romulus peaks around her to give me a happy
wave, which I return.
My father, on Romulus’ other side, turns to me as well. “We wanted to apologize, Fay, as a family. For
the events at our house yesterday.”
“Oh, please,” I say, waving a hand to dismiss it. “Don’t worry about it. I understand that it’s…awkward.
That I’m sort of a new addition, and that I screwed up some of your ns. I’m…sorry about that, by the
way.” I look into Tristin’s face as I say it.
“Not a new addition, Fay,” my father says, looking at me steadily. “A love one returned to us after a long
parting.”
“Yes,” Tristin says, her voice low and rehearsed. “You are a member of this family.” Her eyes flick to
Kent and Daniel then, and I wonder why.
The rest of the dinner proceeds a little ndly. The food is good, the chitchat a little dull. I get a lot of
family history, then, with Alden showing me pictures of my grandparents and telling me about their
journey to America from Italy.
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I look at the old photos curiously, trying to see pieces of my features in their faces. I’ve never really
considered, before, that I’m actually Italian. I never thought much about my ethnicity, but with my red
hair and pale skin, Italian had never popped into my mind. I nce quickly at Kent and Daniel – with
their dark skin, thick ck hair, and roman noses, they look Italian.
“Thank you so much for showing me these,” I say to Alden, handing the pictures back to him. “I’m
learning so much about myself these days.”
“And you have so much more to learn,” he says, giving me a warm smile, which I return.
The party goes quitete, with everyone drinking and chatting. At some point, a DJes out and
begins ying the oldies that this crowd apparently favors – lots of Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. It’s
not a bad time, overall – even Daniel isughing and chatting around.
Only Kent seems to be having a poor time – or, at least, not a good one. He’s very stern, always
ncing around the room, looking over everyone whoes to say hello. I purse my lips, considering
him as he looks critically over an old woman who introduced herself as my great aunt. Does he ever
have a good time?
Kent feels me watching him and turns his attention to me, raising his eyebrow.
I shrug at him and shimmy my shoulders, encouraging him, without words, to try to loosen up and have
a good time. He smirks at me and then looks away, continuing his surveince.
Too serious, I think, getting up to get another drink. Kent stands to go with me, but I put out a hand to
stop him.
“Really,” I say. “I’m just going to the bar for a ss of wine.” I indicate the alcove in the wall where the
bar is stationed, only a few feet away. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
He hesitates and then settles back in his chair. “I’ll be right here,” he says. I nod and briskly step away.
A younger set of people are standing by the bar chatting. They raise their sses to me as I sidle up.
“Wee to the family, cousin,” a tall guy with closely-cut ck hair and broad shoulders says to me.
“We’ve missed you.”
“Really?” I ask, nodding to the bartender who hands me a ss of wine. “Um, are we really cousins?”
“Sure,” he says,ughing. “I’m Michael, this is Chris,” he says, indicating the slightly smaller version of
himself next to him, “and our sister Amy.”
“Oh,” I say, raising my brows. “Wow, it’s really nice to meet you.”
“Not quite cousins,” Amy says, leaning in familiarly to talk to me. Her words are just a little bit slurred –
not sloppy, but I can tell she’s had a couple of drinks. “We’re second cousins! Your dad is our mom’s
cousin, which means,” she screws up her face in thought, thinking, “we have great-grandparents in
<pmon.”