His hand was warm. His touch was practiced. This was the version of Dante that the household saw. The devoted husband. The expectant father. The Capo who kept his home in order. I wondered how many times he had knelt like this after coming from her apartment, still carrying her scent, and played the part so well that even I believed it.
As he leaned closer, I smelled the same sweet jasmine fragrance. Struggling to keep calm, I asked, "Where were you?"
"I was at the club, finishing up some business with Enzo. What's wrong, honey?" Dante replied casually, as though nothing was out of the ordinary. He ran his thumb along the edge of his jaw, a gesture I had once found attractive. A man measuring his next move. Now I saw it for what it was. A man deciding which lie to tell.
You're lying, Dante. You were with Cara. She had a craving for those cannoli from Sal's on the east side, and since they don't deliver, you drove over an hour from the west side to get them for her. She even posted the whole thing.
Feigning nonchalance, I smiled, gently squeezing his hand. "Honey, I suddenly have a craving for those cannoli from Sal's on the east side, too," I said, resting my hands on my belly.