It wasn’t only his physical appearance, but that, despite all he’d been through, he had found a passion that refused to burn out inside of him.
I sighed and took a sip of my coffee before turning back toward my writing room. Before I stepped inside, I ran my hands along the blueberry plants my husband had planted for me. Not only would they be good for butterflies, but honeybees too. Rocco had an excellent planting strategy for everything we gave roots to. He also told me there were a variety of trees on the property, including an olive grove. Because of the amount of time the harvest was taking, he promised me a walk through them soon.
So much to look forward to.
I heard a man call my husband’s name, and the voice was so similar, I almost had a hard time distinguishing between the two. Rocco’s head had turned a few seconds before Brando had called his name. Brando spoke to him in Italian, and Rocco nodded. He was going to walk his wife to the villa, then meet him out in the fields.
I met my sister and brother-in-law at the door. He gave her a kiss before turning for the fields. Instantly, the smell of roses enveloped me before Scarlett’s arms did.
“You might as well stay close to the door.” She smiled. “More family is on the way. Your place is going to be the new center.”
I set a hand on her arm before we reached the kitchen. “From what I’ve heard, your place is usually the center.”
She gave me a sweet smile. “If I had a torch, I’d pass it you. I’ve loved being the main hostess all these years, and with my own children, I still am, but it’s so nice to have this to share with you. It’ll be amazing for Rocco too.” She squeezed my hand, like she was trying to convey something to me silently.
I was almost positive I understood. Even though Rocco was next in line to inherit the throne, Scarlett and Brando had been the couple the family had approved of. She loved to be his wife, and he loved to be her husband. They were traditional in those ways, even if they adapted to the times. Scarlett wasn’t only Brando Fausti’s wife, but a major success in her own right. She was a ballet legend.
All the things the family seemed to value, Brando and Scarlett were rich with them.
Then there was Rocco.
He was raised to believe he was the rightful heir. He helped raise his brothers, and all that the family wanted, he delivered. His marriage had been arranged, and to a legend in the opera world.
Both marriages looked picture-perfect in theory, except only one was true and was considered what some in the family considered a weakness—a love that went beyond what some might consider normal.
Brando and Scarlett shared the type of love that some would die for. Add in the fact that Scarlett was touched…it was a recipe for a lot of different things.
Rocco craved that type of love.
Now that we shared it, and I was the type of woman whowanted the traditional while also aspiring to be a legend in my own right when it came to my craft…Scarlett wanted to pass the torch to me, since she must have known how much it would mean to Rocco to be known for more than his role in the family.
I forced the lump down in my throat and squeezed her hand. “Thank you,” I whispered.
She nodded, then shook her head, like she was trying not to get all emotional. “Any progress on the kitchen? I’d love to see it!”
“Yes!” I almost dragged her there, and her eyes grew wide at what we’d accomplished.
I could tell she was as in love with it as I was.
After I made her a cup of coffee, we chatted excitedly about the kitchen. She loved the wide arch above the stove, the rustic counters for chopping, rolling dough for bread and fresh pasta, and the custom-made chairs before them for seating. I wanted family and guests to feel welcome in the space.
Rocco surprised me with more ovens than I could’ve ever dreamed of, some for different purposes, such as pizza ovens, and all the cooking items I’d ever need and more. It was all so beautiful…and I was so thankful it was all mine.
The man, the land, the clouds and the house… I almost wanted to pinch myself.
“This place is worthy of a spread in a home magazine. It’s so beautiful, Aria. The memories you’re going to make here are going to be priceless.”
Her words made me feel as if the sun was shining down on me on a cold day. I felt warmed all the way through. I smiled. “You want to see what else we’ve done?”
“Yes!”
We both laughed and then held hands. I walked her throughNel Cielo, pointing out changes we’d made, leaving my writing room for last.
“I still have a lot of cleaning to do in here,” I said as I motioned to the room. “This seemed like a room the previous owners used for storage, but I fell in love with it, especially the view from the doors.”
Scarlett slowly took in the space, and after she seemed to log in every inch of it, she nodded. “This room has such a…creative feeling to it. It’s inviting, and I know this is going to sound odd, but hear me out. It feels almost…neutral. Like it’s going to let you lead and just be present for the art that’ll be made. I read once where the muse must show up. If it doesn’t, you can’t take all the blame for the art not being made. And if art is made—you can’t take all the credit for it. Takes a bit of ego away, ah?”
I slid my hand along the old desk. “I feel that here. The creativity. The neutral vibe that’ll allow me to paint the page with words.”
