by L. D. Davis
Instead of sliding my tongue into her mouth like I really wanted to, we got the kids up. Lydia took the little girls to the bathroom, while Gavin Jr. and I folded blankets and picked up any errant items. He was quiet, pensive. I supposed he was nervous, too. My relationship with him had improved since Thanksgiving, but we weren’t back to what had become our standard. We had been very close, almost like father and son, but now he was wary of me, which broke my heart. It wasn’t just my relationship with Lydia that was at risk, but also the relationships I had with Gavin, Cora, and Mandy. Again, no pressure.
After a quick bite, we were all strapped in as the plane began to descend. The kids grew animated, and Lydia’s agitation began to turn to excitement as well. She was just as bad as the children, unable to keep still and trying to see out the window. I loved her enthusiasm. I loved the innocence in it. I wanted to soak in her nervous smiles and giddy laughter, carry this bit of happiness with me always.
I wanted her for forever, and this family that I’d come to call my own. I wanted it all, and I prayed she wanted it with me as well. There was no telling what would happen with my brother, but I knew I could get through any of it if I had Lydia.
Before we left the plane, I took her hand and allowed her to see everything I felt in that moment. I hid nothing. “Are you ready?”
I waited with my breath held as she studied my face.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
Chapter Four
Lydia
Last night, Marco and I reached a turning point in our relationship. For the first time, I was eager to move forward with him, when only a couple days ago, I’d tried to push him away. Also, last night, I concluded that acting on the fears and insecurities that ultimately kept us apart made me a psycho. So, there’s that…
Before the amazing kisses, and before I fell asleep in his arms, I’d made the decision to hold off telling him about the pregnancy until we returned to America. Now I didn’t know when a good time would be. Many years ago, when I was pregnant with my son, I’d waited to tell Gavin. I’d waited months, but those circumstances had been drastically different. I’d planned to raise the baby alone because…well, I’d had a lot of reasons that made sense to me back then. In hindsight, I should’ve told him sooner, but I’d waited until the guilt of not telling him had beaten me down. He’d never brought it up, though. It was never a point of contention between us. However, I knew if I delayed in telling Marco Mangini about his baby, he would not be so easy to deal with.
Soon, I promised myself as the plane descended. I will tell him soon.
Even though none of us got close to a full night of sleep during the flight, we were all wide awake when we finally touched down in Lugano, Switzerland. Marco’s family estate was about thirty miles away in Lecco, Italy. It was hard to get a clear view of the world outside through the heavily tinted windows. My nose was glued to the glass just as much as my kids’. Their excitement was palpable as they chattered with Marco. Some of the landscape seemed no different than ours at home, but then some seemed so foreign to me.
There appeared to be a lot of people on the streets, more than I expected, and a lot of vendors. Even from inside the luxury van, I sensed the festive atmosphere as we crawled through an Italian village.
“What is going on? Why are there so many people?” Gavi asked.
“It is for la festa di Capodanno.”
Gav squinted as he tried to figure out the words. “The…party? The party…something.”
“Close. It means a big party for New Year’s Eve.”
I hadn’t even paid attention to the date. It was New Year’s Eve. It felt like forever since Marco entered our lives, and yet not that long ago at the same time.
“Just like in America, there will be a lot of parties and food and fireworks,” he continued. “There will be a big feast tomorrow night, and after midnight, we will eat pork and lentils.”
Cora tipped her head to one side, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Why pork and lennils?”
“Lentils. Eating lentils on New Year’s Day will bring prosperity, because lentils look like little coins.”
Gavi’s nose crinkled. “What’s prospuberty?”
Marco held back his laughter, and I covered my mouth to hide my snicker. “Prosperity. It means good fortune or a good life. For some, it may mean riches or wealth.”
“And what about the pork?” Cora had a one-track mind when it came to food.
“Pork is meant to represent the richness of life; meaning, it represents how beautiful and good life is.”
She thought about that for a moment before nodding her understanding. “Bacon always makes me think life is good.”
This time, Marco and I both laughed.
Gavi rolled his eyes at his sister before asking more questions. “So, we’re having a party tomorrow? And there will be fireworks?”
“Yes, we are, and yes, there will be fireworks.”
My heart fluttered with unease as I glanced back out the window. “You didn’t tell me about any parties.”
“I apologize, but I didn’t expect my family to carry on with their plans with Massimo being sick. However, my sister Sofia confirmed it when I called her after we landed. Don’t worry, Tesoro. It isn’t like the Herrington party.”
Maybe it wasn’t, but I was in no way prepared for a party of any type. I didn’t know if I had anything to wear to a New Year’s Eve party, and what about the kids? Would it be family-friendly, or would I have to entrust some stranger with my children for a few hours?
“Oh. My. Goodness.” Cora’s breathless words made me come out of my thoughtful daze and focus on the scenery.
Gavin’s eyes were equally large, and mine were practically popping out of my head as we drove down a long driveway. The Mangini house made the Herrington mansion look like a bungalow.
I gave Marco an accusatory stare. “You didn’t tell me your family lived in a castle.”
He chuckled. “It isn’t a castle. It is a palace—or, at one time, it was.”
I gaped at him. I knew that he had come from money, but I couldn’t have fathomed how much money until this moment.
He chuckled again and held his hands up defensively. “Don’t judge me.”
As we pulled up into the drive of Marco’s childhood home, I noticed far more cars than what I’d expected, making my stomach tighten with nerves again. I remembered what Celeste had said about his family, but I hadn’t expected to come face-to-face with so many of them so soon.
Again, I glanced at Marco with worried eyes, but all he did was give me an apologetic shrug and a smile meant to calm me. It didn’t.
The car slowed in front of a set of wide double doors. People began to pour out of the house. I didn’t know if this was normal Italian behavior when guests arrived, although I didn’t have time to ask. A door to the van was pulled open before it even came to a complete stop. Three women were instantly there, reaching for us. In a dizzying whirlwind of activity, we were all plucked from the vehicle and engulfed in hugs and kisses before we could even get more than a few feet away.
Marco gestured toward the first two people to hug and kiss me. “Lydia, this is my mother, Elena, and my father, Matteo.”
I knew Marco was in his late thirties, and his older siblings were in their early to mid-forties, but I hadn’t expected his parents to be so young. Elena’s dark hair framed a shockingly youthful face that featured Marco’s sapphire eyes. She appeared to be not much older than her son, although I knew she was at least twenty years older. She was a little shorter than my five-six, slightly plump, and absolutely adorable. I knew from Marco’s stories that she was a force to be reckoned with, and that I shouldn’t let her appearance fool me.
Matteo was only about an inch shorter than his son yet built similarly. Like Marco, he wasn’t a muscular giant, but he looked strong, healthy, and young. Only the silver strands overtaking his dark hair gave any indication that he might be older than he seemed.
“Mamma, p
apà, questa è la mia adorabile, Lydia.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, not even knowing if they understood English.
They understood the sentiment enough, because they both engulfed me in hugs and kisses again. Elena held my face in her hands and spoke in rapid Italian. I only caught a few words, like, “beautiful” and “happy” and “beautiful” again, making me blush.
“E questa piccola principessa è Amanda.” Marco showed off the toddler in his arms.
Elena cooed and reached for her, but Mandy flung both arms around Marco’s neck and shyly rested her head on his chest. Gavin and Cora were introduced next, both kids polite but obviously overwhelmed by all the attention.
“Let’s go inside, Tesoro,” Marco murmured and kissed the side of my head.
Surrounded by a crowd of people, we walked inside with Gavin holding my hand, Cora holding mine and Marco’s hands, and Mandy in his arms. I almost peed my pants when I saw there were dozens more people inside the house. There were more introductions. I met Marco’s sisters Maria, Francesca, Sofia, and Martina. Sofia, the youngest, had been outside when we’d arrived, but she happily hugged me again and engaged with the children. Her English was impressive. Francesca and Martina were also gracious and welcoming and warm. Maria, Massimo’s twin, was kind and welcomed me with a kiss to each cheek, but more reserved and less enthusiastic than her siblings. Each of the sisters spoke English, but not as well as Maria and Sofia.
When a man, who must’ve dropped right out of Mount Olympus, approached me next, I had to struggle not to gape at him. He had light-brown hair, dark-green eyes, and beautiful golden skin. He was tall like Marco, but the muscles peeping through his casual polo shirt seemed to be more sculpted. Like Marco, he was also beautiful—almost too beautiful to look at, which was a little too much for me personally, but very nice to admire.
He gently took both of my hands in his and kissed my cheeks before speaking politely in heavily accented English. “Ciao. My name is Giovanni. Marco is my cousin. Our mothers are sisters. You’ve met her and my sister, Maura, already. They were with my aunt when you arrived.”
He gestured to a woman I hadn’t noticed before. She stood out from the crowd due to the fact that she didn’t resemble anyone else. Very pretty, with medium-brown skin, light-brown eyes, and dark hair that hung just past her shoulders. There was a child in front of her, a little girl about Cora’s age with a beautiful mix of brown and blond hair, big hazel eyes, and skin that appeared to be naturally tanned. I guessed she was the daughter of Marco’s cousin and the woman, because she seemed to have all of their good genes.
“This is my daughter, Giovanna.” He took the child from her mother and brought her forward. “And her mother, Salina.”
I noted that he referred to Salina as the child’s mother, and not his wife, fiancée, girlfriend, or anything like that. The trio stood close together, but not exactly like a family. Salina stood a little behind and off to the side as if she were a third wheel. I had all kinds of questions I dared not to ask. I had even more questions when Salina reached forward with a gentle handshake instead of kisses and spoke in perfect American English.
“Hello, Lydia. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You as well.” As I said that, something clicked in my head. Celeste had told me about this woman, told me to seek her out. I didn’t want to say anything to her about that yet, and there wasn’t really time. No sooner did she drop my hand before more people crowded in, and when I blinked, she had faded back into the crowd.
More of Marco’s family came forward, most of them with hugs and kisses. I never knew I could be hugged and kissed by so many people in such a short time. Most of them didn’t speak English, but Marco and Sofia were close enough to translate.
Most had their eyes fixated on us, but I felt a cold gaze that made ice slip down my spine. I met the eyes of a beautiful woman with long dark hair and eyes the color of the sky before a thunderstorm. Green and brown, blue and gray. The corners of her mouth were turned up in a beautiful smile, but through those eyes, I felt her bitterness. Her gaze shifted to my children and then to Marco before returning to me. Her smile widened. My blood chilled.
I knew who she was without an introduction. Celia, Marco’s ex-fiancée, and now wife to Massimo. For several minutes, she tried to weave her way to the front of the crowd. Then it dawned on me…Marco’s mother, sisters, and a couple other women I didn’t know were creating a barrier between the woman and me. I saw how they let others through but always managed to push her back.
At one point, one of the older women barked something at her in Italian. Her shoulders dropped as she turned to speak to another woman by her side. There was no doubt that the woman was her mother. They looked similar, both small-boned with the same eyes and delicate features. The mother had frown lines around her mouth, and as her eyes zeroed in on me, I had the icky sensation that she was cursing me in her mind. I had been on the fence before about whether or not to believe Celeste, but without even meeting these women yet, I knew her warnings held true.
Celia’s mother called to Marco from the back, speaking rapidly in her native tongue. From the way Marco’s body tensed, I instantly knew that the comfort from our flight and warm welcome was about to be disrupted.
A herd of children suddenly burst through the front doors behind us. In a blink, we were surrounded, many of them vying for Marco’s attention.
“Zio! Zio!”
Since they were shouting Uncle, I assumed they were his younger nieces and nephews. I’d already met a few of the older ones. A couple of them were so aggressive in trying to get to Marco, they forced Gavin and Cora away. They moved in close to me and stared at the other kids with expressions I couldn’t read. Elena wasn’t having it, though. She began to shoo the children away in a tone that nearly made me run away, too. Only one remained, a little girl around five or six, reaching her arms up in demand to be picked up, even though he was already holding Mandy.
A sweet, feminine voice spoke sternly. “Lascia stare tuo zio. Torna a giocare con gli altri.”
The little girl pouted but did what she was told and ran off to play with the others. I regarded Celia, surprised by how quickly she had made it from the back of the crowd. The children must’ve distracted the barrier of women, because when I quickly glanced behind her, they didn’t appear too happy, especially Elena, who scowled at the backs of Celia and her mother.
“Lydia, this is Celia,” Marco said in a tone almost like reverence.
I turned toward him in surprise and saw something I didn’t like as he smiled down at his sister-in-law. Before I could further evaluate that, Celia put her bony fingers on my shoulders and kissed both my cheeks with cold lips.
“È un piacere conoscerti finalmente.” Her smile sent chills down my spine.
“She said it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” Sofia said by my side.
I couldn’t return the sentiment. Instead, I just nodded and smiled tightly. She turned her beautiful gray eyes to my children.
“Ciao, piccoli. Benvenuto in Italia.” She glanced at me and, in a heavy accent, murmured, “Beautiful.”
I quietly thanked her.
As if suddenly remembering the woman at her side, she gestured to her. “Mia madre, Carmela.”
Carmela’s shrewd eyes moved up and down my body in an open and, frankly, rude appraisal. She stared at my leg, enclosed in my knee brace over my jeans, before finally meeting my eyes. She did not bother to put on a fake smile before roughly kissing just one of my cheeks. There were no words of greeting from her, either, before she gave me a single nod, shared a look with her daughter, and walked away.
I watched her go, pissed off and bewildered by her behavior. What almost escaped my notice, though, was how some of the other women glared after her, too. They made the sign of the horns not so discretely at their sides with their pinkie and index fingers pointing down. Marco had explained this superstitious behavior to me once before. If I remembered correctl
y, the women were warding off evil.
Celia cleared her throat gently. I was already annoyed by her voice. She sounded like one of those prim and proper Disney princesses from the early animated movies.
“My mother isn’t well.” Sofia translating for her didn’t make her voice any less irritating.
When she reached for my hands, it took everything in me not to recoil from her cold touch. “I hope you and I will become very good friends during your visit.”
Ick, no, but I didn’t say that. I did remember that the woman’s husband was very ill, though. With all the fuss, I’d almost forgotten about Massimo. I wondered if he was somewhere in the house, or if he was in the hospital.
“I wish we were meeting under different circumstances,” I said as Sofia repeated it Italian. “I’m sorry about your husband’s illness.”
Her eyes welled with tears. “Grazie.”
Quite suddenly, she was overcome with emotion. Of course, the nearest person for her to throw herself upon was Marco. He ate it up like his favorite snack and held her while she wept quietly and clung to him.
“Sofia,” he called to his sister and passed her my daughter so he could put both arms around Celia.
Mandy went to the younger girl easily, which was surprising, but Sofia stared disapprovingly at her brother. In fact, almost all the siblings and their parents watched with discontentment. Elena seemed to have no qualms about ripping her daughter-in-law from Marco’s embrace and sending her out of the room with a couple other women. She uttered a bunch of words I didn’t know, but I sure did feel the sharpness of them. The matron turned to us and put a hand on my arm as she spoke to Sofia.
