Page 27 of Italian Weddings

“Jesus, sorry, mate.” Francesco glanced at the text from Rocco, to the dark grey sky overhead, frowning as he tried to make sense of his brother’s message.

A second later, a screen shot came through, and Francesco’s body felt hot and cold all over. It was from one of those society magazine’s insta account, and it clearly showed Willow and someone else, in each other’s arms.

Willow Von Bates, socialite stylist to the stars and eldest daughter of Baxter Von Bates, most recently rumoured to be in a relationship with Italian billionaire Francesco Santoro, seen here with a mystery man.

Mystery man, his ass. He’d put money on that weedy looking guy being her beloved Tom. Tom who she said it was over with. Tom who definitely wasn’t good enough for her. Tom, who he’d predicted would star in this exact goddamn scenario if they weren’t careful.

He stared at the photo as if just by looking at it he could elicit more information.

“You okay?”

Another message from Rocco.

He ground his teeth. “Fine.” And because he didn’t want anyone thinking Willow had cheated on him, he added, “We broke up a while ago.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

His phone started to ring, and he considered not answering it, but knowing Rocco as he did, Francesco realized his brother would just take that as an invitation to keep hounding him.

He swiped it across. “What?”

“Nice,” Rocco said, but let it go. “What happened?”

“Nothing. It fizzled out.”

“It didn’t seem like something that was going to fizzle out.”

“Come on, like you noticed anything about Willow and me that night. You only had eyes for Maddie. Which is no problem. It’s how it’s meant to be when you’re in love.”

“And you’re not in love?”

“What is this, a daytime talk show? No, I’m not in love.”

“Sure seemed like it.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” he said, wondering if he should trademark the phrase, given how regularly he’d started saying it.

“What happened?”

“We just broke up.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Francesco ground his teeth, and figured a version of the truth was better than a lie. “That guy she’s with—Tom—they have a history. I guess she missed him, or whatever.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Seriously, why does any of this matter?”

“Aren’t I allowed to worry about my brother?”

“Worry about Raf all you want. I’m fine.”

Rocco sighed heavily. “You really are dumb as shit sometimes, you know that?”

Francesco contemplated disconnecting the call.

“I mean, I was too, til I met Maddie, so I get it. Fuck, man. Sometimes you just have to take the leap, you know.”

Francesco shook his head. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Why not?”

“Because you love Maddie.”

“Yeah, I love Maddie. But I almost lost her, because it took me so long to wake up and realise it. I was stupid, and I think you’re probably being the same kind of stupid.”

Francesco shook his head. “It’s different.”

“Is it? How?”

“Can we not talk about this?”

“If it’s no big deal, why’s it a problem to talk about?”

“You’re really pissing me off, now.”

“I think you’re messing up your life.”

“Just as well it’s my life to mess up, then. Why don’t you call Raf? He’s the one who could do with your amateur psychology services, not me.”

“He’s next on my list.”

“Great, just give me a sec to warn him,” Francesco snapped.

“You’re in a disgusting mood, and I think it’s because you hate the sight of her with that guy. I think you’re hung up on her. I think you’re standing in the way of your own happiness, and you need to?—,”

“I need to go,” Francesco interrupted and then, because this was Rocco, and he knew his brother meant well, “Thanks for calling.” He hung up before Rocco could say another word.

“Who the hell is he?” Meredith’s voice was best described as a screech, and Willow winced, wishing she’d thought to ignore the call.

“Who’s who?” Willow asked, with literally no clue why her stepmother sounded like she was about to have a total meltdown.

“The man you’ve been photographed with. It’s all over the papers.

Oh, Willow, how could you do this to me?

I’d told everyone about you and Francesco.

I thought it was serious. And now to see you in the papers with some…

some…who is he?” Meredith repeated, but Willow had stopped listening after the first sentence of Meredith’s tirade anyway.

The man you’ve been photographed with.

She pulled her phone from her ear and put it on speakerphone, so she could open a browser and search her own name whilst still ostensibly on the call to her stepmother.

A recently published article came up, from one of those glossy gossip magazines, showing three photos of her and Tom, taken about three seconds apart, so it was just literally his arms around her as they pulled in for a very chaste, polite kiss goodbye.

Who knew a ten minute catch up in a park to swap some of their things that had been left behind at one another’s houses would cause such a stir?

“He’s just a friend,” she said, hating the invasion of that. Hating even more so that the article made reference to her ‘relationship’ with Francesco, so their names would be forever linked on the internet.

“You look very intimate for being ‘just friends’.”

“We were saying goodbye.”

Meredith made a noise of disbelief. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for your father and me?”

“I—what?”

“Your break up. You’d actually managed to land one of the most desired bachelors, someone we could be truly proud of, and you couldn’t even hold onto him for a month. Honestly, Willow. It’s enough to make us despair.”

Willow heard the words—the sort of words that had been levelled at her so many times over the years, and she’d been able to ignore, or downplay.

But this time, they landed differently. Or perhaps it was that she was different now.

Whatever else had come about through her relationship with Francesco, his view of her had made her stronger.

Had made her less willing to accept this kind of BS from her stepmother.

“Well, thank you very much for your concern, but my private life is really none of your business.”

Obviously, Meredith had never been spoken to so frankly by Willow, and she showed her shock by gasping down the phone line. But it only hardened Willow’s resolve.

“You ungrateful, unbelievable…”

“I am not ungrateful,” Willow interrupted.

“I appreciate that raising some other woman’s child was not in your life’s plans, but you’re done now.

I’m not a child anymore, but a fully grown woman, and my life, my choices, are all my own.

I’m sorry if you don’t agree with them, but I’m not going to date—or avoid dating—anyone, based on your opinion. ”

“Your father will be hearing about this?—,”

“Great. Wonderful. He should get this message too, though he’s far less inclined to interfere than you are.”

“If you don’t apologise, this minute, you can forget about coming home anytime soon.”

Something dipped inside of Willow, because that was truly one of the most hurtful things her stepmother could have said. To take away the ability to come home…to be expelled, officially, from the family. It cut deep.

“Fine,” she said, like her heart wasn’t breaking. “That’s probably for the best. Tell the girls I’ll be in touch. Take care, Meredith.”

She disconnected the call and let out a large sob, but it was a sound of relief, as much as grief. She collapsed onto the edge of an armchair and stared at the wall, shaking in disbelief at what she’d just done.