“Yeah,” she whispered too. “I think…her resistance against the marriage is killing Massimo slowly. Rocco too. He only wants what’s best for his son. What will make him happy. Rocco has always longed for that kind of love too.”
“Their marriage was arranged,” I said, remembering that Ava had told me that. “Rocco and Rosaria’s.”
“Yes, and it’s always been…I don’t know. My mamma always just used the wordcomplicated.And not just for Rocco. Rosaria too. They have an understanding, but it seems like neither ever understood what the assignment was.”
“That’s sad.”
“Totally.” She sipped on her coffee. Or was it espresso? “And it just goes to prove. Even though it seems like we have everything we need in this life…power, money, notoriety…it doesn’t always make us happy or whole. Take my mamma, or even Scarlett. Or Mia. My daddy-o, Brando, Saverio…if they lost it all tomorrow, mamma, Scarlett, and Mia would still be there. They would help the men decide what to do and help rebuild. Rosaria.” She sighed, and it sounded sad. “I think she’d sit back and watch and just direct. That’s not a partnership. That’s not something you can build a solid foundation on.”
No, I agreed, it wasn’t.
“So…” Evelina drained the rest of her cup and sat up straighter. “Are you ready for yoga?”
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling her energy move around me. Making me feel perkier too. “Am I?”
“Ready?” Scarlett said, stepping outside, sliding a pair of cool looking shades over her eyes. Maybe Matteo might have gotten his good looks from his father, but I had a feeling Scarlett had passed down some of her force of nature to him too.
Evelina grinned at me. “Ready or not…” She took me by the hand and pulled me up.
We all passed Rosaria on the way, and she didn’t look at any of us. She was staring out at the fields, where Chloe had set up her outside art studio and was painting the scene. It didn’t seem like Chloe felt Rosaria’s stare, but as we passed Rosaria, the air around her seemed colder, like winter refused to leave and followed her around.
Chapter 22
Stella
“How is this fair?” Mia had her hands planted on her hips and was staring at the rest of us. We were all trying to do the poses Tipsy, whose real name was Tanya, tried to get us to do. Well, Magpie put her two names together and just called her Tipsy Tanya, like she called Scarlett “Scarlett Beautiful” or Mia “Mia Gorgeous,” or even me “Stella Stellar.” She said she loved my name so much, she had to use it twice.
I wasn’t sure if it was Magpie or the alcohol talking.
Because besides yoga gear, that was what Tipsy had brought along. A big glass that she asked, with a Southern twang, for Scarlett to fill with wine. About thirty minutes in, all the women were bending like pretzels and laughing their asses off when they fell. All but Mia, who said it wasn’t fair that she couldn’t partake in the drinking, but it was all in fun.
“I’m not drinking,” I said.
Rosaria had joined us, and she mocked me with her mouth.
“Get mad, Stella Stellar,” Magpie whispered in my ear. “Get very mad and go off. She’ll back off.” Then she laughed so hard, her wine sloshed down her hand when Juliette fell over on hermat and said, “Whoops, I think I crushed one of your flowers, Scarlett!”
Carmen grabbed Juliette by the hips once she was back up. “Is this how Romeo had you last night?”
“Ewww. Gross!” Mia said, but she was laughing too.
“Is that a proper downward dog?” Scarlett asked Tipsy.
“I would say so!” Tipsy was from Texas. She and her billionaire husband had bought a villa not far from Scarlett and Brando, and Tipsy’s husband was friends with Scarlett’s father. The husband had had a heart attack and, after almost dying, said he needed a slower pace of life. Tipsy said she needed a reason to get up in the morning, because watching the veggies grow just wasn’t herthang, and that was how all this got started.
“I couldn’t do downward dog anymore even if the puppies could stay in place,” Aunt Lola said, holding out her wine glass to Evelina for more.
Magpie did too. Magpie and Aunt Lola were sitting in wooden chairs, just watching.
“Am I the bartender?” Evelina asked. “Because I can do better than wine.”
“Shh.” Magpie waved her glass. “We can’t let the men know! Or they might try to invade our space.”
“I think they’re too fearful to come close,” Mari said, really trying to do…something on her mat. A butterfly flitted around her as she plopped down, staring at the sky. “How nice,” she whispered, watching it come back.
“Remember what happened last time…who was it?” Magpie asked.
“Oscar the Grouch Jr!” Carmen said in a grouchy, Italian accent.
