I gasp when I lay eyes on a woman with curled black hair and bright-red lips, smiling up at a man much taller than her. He wears a hat and a black trench coat, and he stares down at her with unequivocal love. For a split second, I wonder if it’s my great-grandfather, but then I glimpse his face, along with the gold ring glinting on his pinky finger. I recognize him instantly from an old picture of him standing behind Angelo Salvatore. Ronaldo. Gigi and Ronaldo are dancing to Frank Sinatra in front of my fireplace, gazing at one another with so much love, it makes my heart ache. It’s the first
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