Page 2

Chapter one

Isabelle

*Present Day *

A yawn breaks free as I slowly move forward in the final customs line at Vancouver Airport, pushing the cart carrying my suitcases. As soon as I’m through this checkpoint, I can find my mom, go back to her new house, and sleep.

I hate overnight flights. But connecting through France, this was the only option from the airport in Venice, which is closest to the town I live in, all the way around the world to Vancouver, Canada, where my mom now lives.

As soon as I’m past the customs officials, my pace picks up. Even though I just saw Mom a few months ago at her very-much-a-surprise elopement in Portugal, I’m excited to see her again.

We’re about as close as a mother and daughter can get, even if we live on opposite sides of the planet.

That’s what happens when your mom has you at sixteen, I guess.

It’s a love forged by fire. She could have given me up, abandoned me, or not had me at all, but she didn’t.

Instead, she begged her parents not to kick her out, despite her transgression being very out of line with their conservative values.

Their only daughter sleeping with a random Italian boy on the last day of their family vacation and coming home pregnant was just about the worst offense they could think of.

When I was old enough to understand more, I could see how suffocating they were.

How hard it was for my mom to stay with them, and the sacrifices she made for me.

She always said that she wished she could’ve given me a different life.

One with more security, where we didn’t have to rely on her coldhearted parents for the early years.

That’s not to say I had a bad childhood. Mom did her best, and I will always love and admire her for everything she did. Even more so, because once she managed to get us out of my grandparents’ house, she did it all alone. The two of us, against the world.

I spy her immediately as I round the corner to the waiting area for international arrivals. Her blonde hair is the same as mine, except, where mine is in a messy braid, hers looks perfect. Her grey eyes, also matching mine, shine with tears as I hurry around the barrier and into her waiting hug.

“You’re here,” she says, the words muffled by the fact that she’s squeezing me so tight.

“I’m here, and I’m exhausted,” I mumble back, sagging into her arms. She steps back and looks me over.

“Yeah, you look it.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She grins, her smile so much like mine. We’re frequently mistaken for sisters instead of mother and daughter. The only difference being my skin is a shade darker, with my father’s olive undertones coming through, and I’ve got more curves than my mom.

Growing up, I often wondered what other differences were because of my father, and Mom hated that she couldn’t give me any answers.

It wasn’t that she was hiding him from me.

She genuinely didn’t have the answers I wanted.

She once said to me that her biggest regret in life was that she never knew who he was, or how to get in touch with him.

He was just an Italian teenager, also on vacation in Positano with his family.

They met at a youth nightclub, fooled around, and then went their separate ways with nothing more than exchanging first names.

Nine months later, I came along.

And twenty years later, after submitting my DNA to one of those online databases in an attempt to satisfy my curiosity about the other half of my family, I found him.

Well. My cousin Maria found me, but still.

That two-week trip over spring break to meet my father and his family turned into so much more. I took a leave from university and extended my stay to a month. Then two. Then I quit university all together and turned my whole life upside down by moving to Italy permanently.

Mom supported me through it all. She knew how important it was for me to find myself, and that my best chance of doing that was in Italy with the other half of my family.

We reach Mom’s car and load my suitcases into the trunk before getting in. I buckle up my seatbelt and turn to see her looking at me, her eyes shiny again.

“Mom,” I say with a shake of my head. “You gotta stop crying.”

She half sobs, half laughs. “I’m sorry, I’m just so happy you’re here. We get almost six months together, Belles. We haven’t had that long together in forever.”

I lean over when she goes in for another hug. She’s right. Visits to each other over the years and one backpacking trip through northern Europe wasn’t enough. It has been over a decade since we lived together, and I’ve missed her.

“You can thank the rusty pipe gods for that,” I say jokingly.

It’s sort of true, though. I wouldn’t be here, and I certainly wouldn’t be planning to stay for so long, if not for a broken pipe in the kitchen of the restaurant I work at.

When the owner, Vito, had the building inspected for repairs, they found a whole host of issues.

Common enough in that area of Italy where most buildings are older than dirt.

He decided to close down for a few months and do a total renovation.

Which left me with a lot of time on my hands.

In the end, it was my father who encouraged me to accept Mom’s offer to stay with her and her new husband.

“I wish I could have one of those pipes to keep. I’d frame it and put it above the fireplace in a position of honour.

The pipe that brought my daughter back to me,” she says solemnly before we both collapse in laughter again.

“Okay. Let’s go home. Tony won’t be back for a few more days, so we have the house to ourselves. ”

I settle in for the drive, letting her go on and on about Vancouver, her job here, and of course, Tony.

As in Tony Stirling, her new husband, and the head coach for the Vancouver Tridents baseball team.

For eight years, I’ve avoided baseball. Easy enough to do in a country that doesn’t revere it the way Canada and the USA does. And now I’m moving into the home of a major league coach?

Great.

When we pull up to the cute little two-story house she and Tony live in, Mom gets out first, grabs my suitcases, and brings it around to me.

“So, what do you think?” she asks, and I almost detect a hint of nerves.

I turn to her. “I think you deserve all of this. The guy, the house, everything. I’m happy for you, Mom.”

“Oh Belles.” She throws her arms around me so suddenly, I stumble back.

For so long, it was me and Mom against the world.

And while I know she never regretted having me, she has told me before that she regrets being so young and unsettled in her own life.

She felt like she couldn’t give me everything she wanted me to have.

That’s why she instilled in me a deep-seated need for security. It was hard at times for her to keep things together for the two of us.

I had to make sure I didn’t follow in her footsteps. I needed to know myself, my own path, before I let anyone join me on it. I needed to have my shit figured out for myself, to be confident in my independence, before I opened my life and heart to anyone else.

Too bad my heart didn’t get that memo back in college and fell for the hot baseball player.

Sure, being Kai Yamaki’s girlfriend made me feel good. Safe and loved. It was easy to pretend I didn’t need to have it all figured out, that we could just be together and in love. But the distance I forced between us when I went away pulled the wool from my eyes. And I realized my mom was right.

By deciding to stay in Italy, I knew I was going to break my heart, my mom’s, and Kai’s. But I also knew it was what I had to do, to find that inner security and stability.

Still, it took a very long time before I stopped crying into my pillow every night, wondering if I had made the wrong decision.

Now I know I didn’t. Meeting my large, loving Italian family showed me what I was missing.

Being in the kitchen with my grandmother, learning the language through our mutual love of food and cooking, led me to a career that fueled my passion and gave me a future I could be proud of.

If I hadn’t moved to Italy, that might never have happened.

“Let’s go inside and get you settled. If you want a nap, that’s fine, but I was hoping we could maybe order some takeout and just catch up tonight?” Mom threads her arm through mine as we walk to the front door.

“That sounds absolutely perfect,” I reply. And it really does. I decide to forgo the nap, hoping it’ll help me sleep better tonight. So, shortly after arriving, Mom and I are sitting down with a glass of wine, dinner ordered and on its way.

“How’s your grandmother?”

I smile over my wineglass, thinking fondly of my nonna. “She’s great. Feisty as always.”

Mom laughs. “That woman is going to outlive us all, I swear.”

The handful of visits Mom’s made to me in Italy over the years have been wonderful.

I thought it might be awkward, her reuniting with my father, a man she met so long ago, but it wasn’t.

Mostly because my dad’s wife is one of the most warm, welcoming women out there.

She embraced my mom, thanking her for raising me.

They became fast friends and any awkwardness was forgotten. I realize I’m lucky that way.

“And your dad?”

“Like you haven’t been talking to Luisa every week,” I tease.

“We don’t talk about your father, Belles. That would be weird.”

“Well, he’s fine.” I sip my wine and drop my head back against the couch. “He wants me to bring him back some maple syrup candies, can you believe it?”

Mom shudders, staring at me in horror. “Maple syrup candy ?”

“I know, right?” I laugh, picturing my big, burly dad popping one of the gross, artificially flavoured candies in his mouth. “Remember last time I visited you in Calgary and I bought that basket of Canadian treats to take back? There were a few in the bottom of it, and he absolutely loves them.”

“There’s no accounting for taste.” We both shake our head with a grin.

“God, I’ve missed you.” Mom holds her hands up. “I know, I know, I’ve said that a hundred times. Doesn’t make it any less true.”

I lean forward and place my hand on her leg. “I’ve missed you, too, Mom. It’s okay.”

Honestly, even if she has said it a hundred times, and even if she says it a hundred more, I won’t get annoyed.

I’m glad I decided to come and stay for the next several months.

I’m thrilled to have the time with my mom, but more importantly, this break will probably be my last for a while.

Because when I go home, I plan on sitting down with Vito and his wife Carla and laying out a five-year plan for me to eventually become a partner and co-owner of the restaurant.

That’s my endgame, my one big dream.

And it’s all within reach.