Everyone lifted their glasses to me, and Nonno said something in Italian. The entire family repeated it and drained their glasses. Scarlett hugged Brando’s arm, and he looked at her like he was drinkingherin. I drank my drink, and after that, it seemed like day melted into evening and the party really got started.
Outside lights came to life, and the smell of lemons was even stronger in the air. Kids ran with sparklers. Speakers placed on the house and throughout the yard played beautiful Italian music. Couples danced. Men drank and smoked cigars. Women laughed and enjoyed red wine from the bottles on the table. An entire dessert table had been filled, and people were still lingering. I had five plates before my stomach called enough.
I hadn’t even drunk anything with alcohol until the toast. At first, I thought I was floating because of that, but after time, I realized it was the entire day.
This was what it felt like to be in love with…life.
Matteo gave me his hand and took me to the area where couples were dancing underneath lights strung from treebranches, zigzagging over our heads. He started to move me to the music, teaching me a few Italian dances, before his brothers took turns dancing with me. They all laughed at the pinched look on his face. He was waiting, but not patiently. His grandfather took my hand next, serenading me while “La Vie en Rose” played. I cried while I sang with him. I knew this song. Mom had loved it. And his voice. I could hardly put into words how it made me feel. Like my skin felt the vibration of it, like his passion could be felt bone deep. After the dance was over, he bowed to me and kissed my hand, just like a knight in some old book.
Except he wasn’t the light kind. He was dark kind, and for some reason, I loved it.
When Matteo finally took me from his cousin, Augusto Aurelius, who told me to call him Auggie when older family were not around, a new song played.
It stopped me cold.
“This song,” I barely got out.
He nodded, studying my face.
“You know it?” I asked.
He nodded again. “It’s special to me and my family. My mom’s brother, Elliott, who was papà’s brother of the heart, loved it. He was hearing-impaired, and he loved to feel the vibration of the music. All those years, and mamma and papà kept the love of it alive through us. Maybe it was because it kept my uncle alive for them. He died before any of us was born. Maestro is named after him. That was the nickname my old man had given him.”
Maybe it was the love I could barely contain for Matteo Fausti. Maybe it was the serenade before, from Nonno, because it felt like it had moved my soul. Or maybe it was the entire day. I’d never had one that was so special, except for my time with mom. Maybe it was the thought of her. Maybe it was even for aguy named Elliot, who I’d never meet, who seemed to be missing out on this life with these people.
Or maybe it was because this song was special to me too. The record was one of my most cherished, and it was nothing but a pile of ash in that dungeon. Yet it was playing for me to hear, during one of the most special days of my life.
Maybe it was a combination of all it.
Whatever the reason, or reasons, tears ran down my overheated cheeks.
Matteo kissed my face, where the tears were most concentrated, before he pulled me so close, it was hard to breathe. But I could. I could breathe better than I ever had.
“Can you sing for me?” I whispered. My throat was too tight to shout over the music.
He heard me. He nodded. Cleared his throat. He sang part of the song in Italian. He sounded just like his grandfather.
“Wow,” was all I could say, and when he grinned down at me, I returned it.
“Come,” he said, taking my hand, leading me toward the villa. “I have something to show you.”
I couldn’t wait.
Matteo showed me to his room in the vast villa. Before he could show me whatever it was he wanted to, I ran to the bathroom. I checked my reflection in the gold-framed mirror after my business was done, and I was excited to see my hair was still in place. For the first time in months, I felt pretty.
Matteo was waiting by a door in the room when I walked out.
“What took you so long?” he said.
“Ah. I had to use the bathroom, then wash my hands and?—”
He started laughing, and it was raspy, and the sexiest thing I’d ever heard. “I missed you, baby.”
“Oh.” I realized he was joking and laughed too. “I missed you too!” I stood next to him, bumping my body into his. “What did you want to show me?”
“So impatient,” he said almost to himself. “What I want to show you is outside, but I thought you might want to change into something more comfortable first.”
He opened the door to the closet and pulled a dangling string that awoke a light bulb. I said, “Oh, am I allowed to do that?”
