The convoy of luxury vehicles looked ridiculous parked in front of Gino's Trattoria. The neon sign flickered, buzzing intermittently.
Inside, the private room Kiley had booked was cramped. The tablecloths were red checkered, and the smell of garlic bread was overwhelming.
Her family was already there. Aunt Karen was wearing a dress with too many sequins, her eyes scanning Carmine like a barcode reader.
They sat down at the head of the table. The silence was thick, awkward.
Aunt Karen didn't wait for the appetizers.
"So, Kiley," she said, her voice shrill. "We hear your new husband is in... business? What exactly do you do, Carmine?"
Kiley felt her stomach knot. She gripped her fork. She didn't actually know.
Carmine poured water into Kiley's glass. He didn't look up. "Investments. Some family management."
Joyce snorted from the other end of the table. She tore a piece of bread aggressively. "Family management? What, do you mow your dad's lawn?"
A ripple of laughter went through the room. Uncle Bob chuckled into his napkin.
Kiley felt heat rush to her cheeks. She opened her mouth to defend him, but Carmine's hand found hers under the table. He squeezed. Hard.
He looked up. His eyes were cold, flat. He swept his gaze across the table, and the laughter died in throats. It was like he had sucked the air out of the room.
"Mrs. Love," Carmine said, his voice polite but edged with steel. "I heard your credit card was frozen last week due to... excessive outstanding balance?"
Joyce dropped her bread. Her face drained of color. "How... how do you know that?"
"Investments," Carmine said simply, taking a sip of his water. "You hear things. Background checks are standard procedure in my line of work."
The table went silent.
Aunt Karen, not one to be silenced, leaned forward. "Well, he's certainly handsome. Almost too handsome. You know, Kiley, people hire actors for these things nowadays. It's very trendy for desperate girls."
Kiley felt like she had been slapped. The worst part was, the thought had crossed her mind too.
Carmine didn't respond. He pulled out his phone, typed a quick message, and put it away.
"Excuse me," he said.
Three minutes later, the double doors of the restaurant swung open.
The room turned.
Two people in crisp, navy blue medical scrubs walked in. They were pushing a high-tech, reclining wheelchair.
In the chair sat Grandma Rose.
She was dressed in a soft lavender cardigan, her hair brushed and pinned back. She looked alert, better than she had in months.
Kiley shot out of her chair. Her chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"Grandma!"
Tears sprang to her eyes. She ran to the wheelchair.
"She wanted to come," one of the nurses said softly. "Dr. Evans cleared her for two hours."
Kiley looked at the nurse's uniform. The logo embroidered on the pocket was from Saint Jude's Private Care. The most expensive medical concierge service in the state.
The room was dead silent. Joyce was staring at the nurses like they were aliens. Aunt Karen's mouth was shut tight.
You couldn't rent a medical team like this. You couldn't fake this level of care.
Carmine stood up and walked over. He took the handles of the wheelchair.
"Let's get her to the table," he said to Kiley.
He wheeled Rose to the spot next to Kiley. He adjusted the brakes, checked her comfort, and then sat down.
Rose reached out and patted Carmine's hand. "Thank you, son. The ride over was very smooth."
"It was my pleasure, Rose," Carmine said.
Kiley watched them. She looked at her grandmother's shining eyes. She looked at the stunned faces of her greedy relatives.
For the first time in her life, Kiley didn't feel small. She didn't feel like the poor relation.
She looked at Carmine. He was cutting his lasagna, completely ignoring the stares.
He had done this. He had brought the only person who mattered.
The rest of the dinner passed in a blur. No one made jokes. No one asked about money. They ate quickly, heads down.
When it was time to leave, the nurses prepared Rose for transport. Kiley kissed her grandmother's cheek.
"I'm so happy for you, honey," Rose whispered.
Carmine walked Kiley to the curb. The black cars were waiting.
Joyce tried to scurry up to them, a fake smile plastered on her face. "Carmine, honey, about that investment advice-"
Carmine didn't even break stride. He opened the car door for Kiley, shielding her head. He didn't look at Joyce. He didn't acknowledge her existence.
He got in the other side and the door slammed shut.
He turned to Kiley, loosening his tie.
"Tired?" he asked. "Let's go home."
