A week and a half later, I sit down for dinner with everyone in Vale and Damiano’s home in Casale Di Principe. I stare at my hand-painted dinner plate. It’s beautiful. A blue and white pattern with birds, flowers, and leaves. It reminds me of the plates we had at my wedding.
I’ve grown up a lot since that day.
The months of my marriage made me realize something about myself. Something that feels like a fundamental truth. The kind that once you see it, you can’t unsee it. It follows you everywhere, a lens through which you perceive your past in an entirely new light.
I always thought my defiance and constant rebellion were proof that my parents didn’t get to me the way they got to Gemma and Vale. I never bought into their shit. If they wanted something from me, I’d do the opposite. I knew how to ignore their expectations, how to spit on their vision for my future. I thought that made me strong.
It was after I went back to Loretta’s after she first kicked me out that the truth dawned on me. Standing there on her doorstep and humbling myself before her…that was hard. Rebelling against my parents was easy. It made me feel better about myself. It was something I leaned into when I felt like I was crumbling inside.
So really, I’d been lying to myself for years. My parents did get to me. Deep down, they made me feel worthless. To them, I always was and always will be worthless. They broadcasted that message with their every word and action, and I’d believed it. No matter how I’d lie to myself or pretend otherwise, I’d believed it.
It was because of Rafaele that I started to believe something else.
He fed me a new narrative about myself. A reframing of my existence. And it felt good. Boy, it felt good. Which is maybe why it hurts so bad now that I know it was all a lie. He didn’t see my worth either. I was a plaything, an amusing fixture in his rigid life. Until I was no longer fun. It was so easy for him to say goodbye.
I glance up and catch my sisters exchanging a concerned look. Since we arrived here, they’ve given me the space to… I don’t even know what, to be honest. Grieve?
Yes, that’s the right word.
The man I loved broke my heart.
My marriage has collapsed.
And Nero…
I suck in a deep breath.
Nero is dead.
“Mamma called me today,” Gemma says. “She’s selling the house. She wants to live in the Hamptons full time.”
Vale nods. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“She asked if we want to get any of our old things.”
“I’m good,” Vale says. Like me, she’d rather gouge her eyes out than spend time with our mother.
But Gemma’s too kind. She sighs and moves her food around with a fork. “I don’t know. I was thinking about going there for a bit to help her.”
Vale frowns. “She’s got plenty of help, trust me. All of our aunts and cousins. And if there was ever a time for Vince to step up, it’s now.”
Gemma looks unconvinced, but Ras reaches over and wraps his palm around her wrist. “Peaches, you’ve got to focus on yourself and our baby. You don’t need to solve everyone else’s problems, remember?”
The tension in Gemma’s forehead eases. She gazes at her lover and gives him an adoring smile. “You’re right. We still have lots of work to do on the nursery.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” Mari says. “The little outfits you showed me last week gave me serious baby fever.” She glances at Giorgio, who’s sitting beside her. “Who knows, maybe your son will get a cousin in a few years.”
Giorgio gives her an indulgent smile while Damiano chokes on his wine.
“Mari, you’re nineteen,” her brother says.
“I’m nearly twenty,” she says. “Gemma’s only a year older.”
“Having children is a big decision. You shouldn’t do it on a whim.”
Vale snorts a laugh. “Isn’t that word for word what I said to you the other night when you were getting a bit ahead of yourself?”
Damiano’s mouth slams shut.
Mari chuckles. “Hypocrite.”
“Anyway,” Gemma interjects, an amused smile on her face. “I for one can’t wait until we have a bunch of kids running around here.”
The staff come out with the next course, and the conversation gets diverted to something else, but I retreat inward. A vision of a young dark-haired boy with blue eyes smiles at me, and a painful pang of longing echoes through my chest.
God, what’s wrong with me?
I used to hate the idea that I’d be expected to have kids with my arranged husband. But knowing that Rafaele and I will never have a family fills me with sadness now.
I get out of my seat. “I’ve got a headache. I think I’ll go lie down.” The backs of my eyes sting, and I don’t want the floodgates to open at the dinner table. Although it wouldn’t be the first time this week.
Vale glances at me, the worry clear in her expression. “You sure?”
“Yes. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” I flee up to my room, hoping they won’t hear me cry.
The next morning, the door to my bedroom flies open, jolting me awake.
Gemma strolls in. “No more moping.” She throws a leather duffel bag onto the bed and walks over to the window to pull back the curtains, letting bright light hit me right in the face. “We’re getting out of town.”
“What?” I ask groggily, shielding my eyes against the sunlight with my palm.
“You heard me. Pack your things. We’re going away for a girls’ weekend.”
I yawn, my gaze drifting to her protruding belly. “You’re pregnant.”
Gemma shrugs. “So what? I’ve still got plenty of time. Plus, we’re not going far.”
“Where are we going?”
“Amalfi Coast. Vale booked us this incredible spot near Positano with a private beach. The pictures look incredible.”
“Amalfi? Isn’t that far?”
“Only a few hours from here. We’re leaving in an hour.” She pokes me through the duvet. “Seriously, get up. This is happening.”
I pull the duvet over my head and groan into it. “No. Leave me alone.”
She rips the blanket off me. “No can do. This isn’t you, Cleo. It’s time to move on and embrace your new life.”
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at her. She just stares right back, fierce determination inside her eyes. Yeah, I’m not getting out of this.
I untangle myself from the blanket and slip my feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers Vale got me the day we landed in Italy. “Okay.”
Gemma’s face lights up. “Okay?”
“I said okay!”
She jumps up and makes a loud whoop. “Hell yes. Come on, I’ll help you pack. We’re going to have so much fun. This weekend, you are moving the fuck on.”
A few hours later, the duffel is full, and I’m ready to go. Gem and I go down to the living room where Vale and Mari are already waiting. Their men hover beside them, looking less than thrilled about us leaving.
Giorgio, Ras, and Dem follow us out of the house like a litter of puppies.
“If you feel even a little bit unwell, ask Ignazio to drive you to the hospital,” Ras says to Gemma.
She shoots me a look. She’s mentioned a few times how Ras is overly anxious about her pregnancy. I think it’s sweet.
“Don’t worry, I will.” She gets on her tiptoes and gives him a kiss.
Damiano scans us over and shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Are you sure you don’t want us to join you?”
“Yes, we’re sure,” Vale says. “Like I’ve already explained a dozen times, this is a girls’ weekend.”
“I don’t like that you’ll be there unprotected.”
“You’re sending a car full of bodyguards with us.” She waves at the second SUV that’s parked just behind the car we’re about to get into. “I’m not even sure who they’re protecting us from, given you’re the big boss now.”
And given that Papà is gone. It’s crazy to think that my own father tried to kill me. Even knowing everything I knew, I didn’t think he’d go that far. If there’s one person I’m not grieving, it’s him. Stefano Garzolo was a bad man, and the world can breathe easier without him.
“If they get too zealous, I will tell them to back off.” Vale is still talking to Damiano about the guards. “Got it? I’m praying they packed some clothes to blend in.”
“Okay, baby,” he says, sounding strained. “Just be careful.”
His displeased expression makes me snort a laugh. These men are ridiculous. And so damn in love. A flicker of envy appears inside my chest as I watch Damiano wrap his arms around Vale and pull her into a kiss. I look away, my lips tightening into a line.
What’s wrong with you? Are you really jealous of your sisters? You should be happy for them.
I am happy for them. But I’m also jealous. How can I not be when I almost had what they have, but I lost it?
My throat constricts. It takes all my willpower to push the feelings away. My sisters have already done so much for me, and I don’t want to worry them anymore. All of this crap inside my head is mine and mine alone to deal with.
The guys help us with our bags—we’ve definitely packed way too much for three days—and then stand in a neat little row in front of the house, the three of them looking equally sullen. We wave at them through the window, and we’re off.
