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Day after day it was the same until my mother had had enough. She said I was flitting about the house like an undernourished ghost, and she couldn’t bear to see my pale miserable face for another minute. She ordered me to take up Nonna Isadora’s invitation. She said the invitation was not made lightly and it would be churlish and ungrateful to reject the kind gesture. She said it would be good for me to recover in the countryside. Some fresh air and sunshine was what I needed.
Part of me still doesn’t like the idea. I look upon Valentino’s family as an extension of him and my association with them will be a kind of imposition considering how he now feels about me, but my mother is an immovable rock once she makes up hermind. So I agree. I’m only staying a few days, and then I will return to New York.
“Francesca?”
I look up from rummaging inside my bag for my phone to see Federico standing a few feet away. My heart instantly drops and I almost run back through the doors I had just emerged from. Nonna Isadora said Giuseppe was coming; why am I looking at Federico?
He flashes me a small smile before closing the distance between us, holding out his hand.
“Hey.”
I stare at his hand for a long moment until he drops it with an embarrassed smile. “Of course, you don’t want to shake my hand. I understand. I wouldn’t if I was in your shoes.”
“Where’s Giuseppe?” I ask coldly.
“I’m here to pick you up.”
“I was told Giuseppe was.”
“He was,” he says. “But I convinced him to let me.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Please, Francesca. I want to make up for what I did. I’m really, really sorry.”
After another awkward silence, he grabs my luggage. “Please, come with me. I’m parked over there.”
I follow him reluctantly towards the exit and to a black jeep parked outside the terminal. He puts my luggage into the trunk before opening the door for me. A few minutes later, we’re pulling away from the airport.
I sit stiff and resentful in my seat. I knew this was a bad idea and it is turning out to be so. How dare Federico turn up to pick me up? I wish I had refused to follow him and taken a taxi instead. I turn my head and stare out of the window and try to take my mind off Federico and appreciate the beautifulscenery outside. Italy is a wonderful place, but I can’t appreciate it properly in this mood.
“I’m so sorry, Francesca.”
At Federico’s soft apology I turn my head in his direction. “Stop it, please. I am really not in the mood to rehash anything.”
“I just want you to know how truly sorry I am. I’m so sorry. I was so jealous and I was so angry with Valentino that I just wanted to ruin things for him. I didn’t think of how I would be hurting you,” he says in a rush like he’s been waiting for this moment. “I’m ready to do anything to prove how sorry I really am.”
“Isn’t it funny how people do the most outrageous things and then claim they’re sorry afterwards? It doesn’t fix anything. And by the way, there’s no need for an apology. Valentino and I are getting divorced.”
Federico laughs, and I frown. “Yeah, I see how sorry you are. This is what you’ve always wanted,’ isn’t it?”
“Maybe in the beginning, it was what I wanted,” he says. “But not anymore. You and Valentino were made for each other. The reason I was laughing was because it is such a Valentino thing to do. You will not be getting a divorce. You’ll find each other again, you’ll see.” We turn into Nonna Isadora’s drive and the ancient Castillo comes into view. The last time I was here was with Valentino. The sense of loss is so acute as it is physical. I hold my stomach to stem the pain.
“And I’m really sorry about the baby,” Federico says quietly.
“Thank you. How is Matteo?” I ask to quickly change the direction of the conversation.
“He’s talking now. He’s still not completely better, but he’s talking, eating, and basically recovering.”
I don’t feel any iota of relief or joy at the news. Of the brothers, only Roberto has impressed me with his sincerity.
Moments later, Federico leads me up the steps towards Nonna Isadora’s reception rooms. He stops in front of Nonna Isadora’s door. “I can’t go in with you,” he says. “Or she will have my head. But I’ll drop this off in your room. When Nonna is done with you, someone will show you where it is.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“No. Thank you.” He nods and disappears around the corner.
I take a deep breath, then knock and walk through the door. There’s only one servant inside the room, and she’s cleaning the dresser while Nonna Isadora is sitting on her wooden throne with an old leather book clasped in her hands.