Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Something touched my forehead. My eyes fluttered open and Giada mopped at my moist brow with a cloth. I was embarrassed but grateful. My lips stuck together as I whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled sadly. A few minutes passed and I felt a little better. When I sat up without shaking, she said, “You know, this might sound strange seeing as I appear to be somebody you just met, but I know you. In fact, I’ve known you a while. I don’t know if you remember, but I used to come to your house with my dad. I would play with you and your sister while they talked business.”
What?
Confusion swept over my features. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”
Giada’s smile turned sheepish as she sighed through the words, “You used to braid my hair, but, bless you, you weren’t very good at it. I always left with fat, matted locks of fuzz, but in spite of that, I always left with a smile. One time, I gave you something of mine. An Italian charm bracelet.”
Recognition dawned and I gasped slowly. “Oh my God.” I blinked at her. “I do remember you.”
I still had that bracelet, but up until now, I had no memory of receiving it.
She laughed prettily then, “There you go. Your father was a good friend of my dad’s. In fact, Papa Nunzio lectured all of us before the ceremony. Warned us to treat you right, or else. I know seeing those bruises on your neck are killing him. Even more so that Ettore put them there.”
Shame had me lowering my eyes. “I deserved it.”
I admit I was a little surprised when she said, “Of course, you did, but Nunzio didn’t raise his boys like that. He brought them up to protect their women, even when they’re irrational.” She rolled her eyes. “Especially then.”
She wasn’t trying to make me feel bad, but her compassion had me feeling the lowest kind of disgrace. “I owe your family an apology.”
“No, you don’t,” she said and her dull tone had my face snapping to hers in disbelief. “See, maybe it’s because we have history or the fact that I know a little about your life that makes me undeniably sure that it’s us that owes you an apology.”
Immediately, my throat clogged.
What Giada planned on saying next, I wasn’t prepared for. “And I just wanted to tell you how brave you’ve been.” The bridge of my nose tingled. “Nobody could have prepared you for what you’ve been through, but you made it through.” My lips trembled. “All alone and look at how strong you’ve been. Personally, I don’t think I could have survived the kind of loss.” When she reached up to stroke the hair at my crown, I was already hanging on by a single frayed thread. “And yes, you fucked up, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. Mistakes don’t break us.” And then she said something that tore my heart out. Something I’d wanted to be a part of again since the day my father was taken from me. “We’re a family.”
That was it. The final push.
My chest tightened painfully, my expression crumbled, I dipped my chin and warm tears trailed my cheeks as I quietly wept. Giada scooched closer, carefully put her arm around me and held me close as I cried with shame, and misery, and regret, all at once.
How anyone could show me an ounce of kindness after my unthinkable actions were beyond me. And she wasn’t just kind, but consoling. Something my own sister hadn’t offered during this entire ordeal.
Now, I wasn’t sure of much, but right then, nobody could have convinced me otherwise of one single fact.
My sister-in-law was an angel.
Ettore
This whole situation was becoming more and more bothersome by the minute.
The instant I walked Vittoria into my father’s home, I felt something burn at my sides. Something I rarely felt. Regret fell over me like a shadow.
I was cocky and thought placing my new wife in a position where she was surrounded, fenced in like an animal, would make her skin crawl. And it did. What I did not plan for was my own reaction to her discomfort.
Introducing her to my father was an obligation. When he told me he planned to show me who Vittoria Vero really was, I welcomed it. I was certain he would be the one to see her true self. But then, he baited her. Gave her the perfect opportunity to shame me.
What a surprise my little flower was. Yes, her petals were delicate and bruised, but she hid thorns under her lovely exterior. And when she unwaveringly looked my father in the eye and lied easily about my treatment of her, there was a swift moment, a sharp sting at my nape, where uncertainty flashed in forewarning.
I chalked what she had done down to self-preservation.