Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

Mamá snorts into her wine glass.
Nonna squints at him, hiking her purse farther up her shoulder. “You’d be
surprised how often I hear that.” Yawning, she pushes white bangs from her
face, patting my cheek as she straightens. “I’m going to turn in before your
father arrives, but I’m sure I’ll see you at the recital.”
Nodding, I watch her head down the hall past the stairs, ambling toward
the in-law suite at the back of the house.
My skin prickles with awareness of Mamá’s perusal, and I start to move
forward and push to my feet, but Kal tangles his fingers in my hair, twisting
until they’re flush with the nape of my neck. I glare from the corner of my
eye, pulling gently so as not to alert Mamá as to what he’s doing.
“She’s trying to get under your skin,” he says in a low voice, only loud
enough for me to hear. “Don’t let her have that power over you.”
“She’s just staring,” I hiss back, my voice just as low.
“Jealousy, little one. It’s not as attractive on everyone as it is on you.”
I let out a tiny, exasperated sound. “I don’t even know what she’s jealous
of.”
His mouth parts as if to answer, but in the next second the front door is
flying open, Papá and my sisters hustling inside, water dripping off their
raincoats onto the dry floors.
“Grazie a Dio, Rafael!” Mamá snaps, splashing her wine as she gestures
toward the foyer. “You’re tracking mud everywhere.”
Papá mutters something under his breath in Italian, coming into the living
area looking primed for an argument. He stops dead in his tracks when he
spots Kal and me on the sofa, eyes nearly popping out of his head.
“Elena,” he says, blinking like he doesn’t really believe I’m real. “You’re
here.”
I push to my feet when I feel Kal release his grip on my hair, although the
way he lets his fingers comb through the strands feels somewhat reluctant on
his part. Moving to wrap my arms around Papá, I kiss his stunned, ruddy face
on both cheeks, the memories of the last time I saw him disappearing the
second I’m engulfed in his warm embrace.
For a moment, I can almost forget that he risked my safety by forcing my
hand in a marriage for personal gain. Twice.
I can almost forget the fact that he overlooked years of abuse, just
because he so badly wanted to maintain his power in Boston, and needed the
alliance with Bollente to do so.