By the time I reach the vineyard, the late afternoon sun spills gold across the rows of vines. Normally, this view feels like home: rolling hills, neat trellises, the earthy sweetness drifting on the breeze. But this year, the leaves curl at the edges, clusters of grapes hanging smaller, sparser. Even the land looks exhausted.
Inside the main building, Mom greets me with her usual warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. But up close, I catch the fine lines of worry etched around her eyes. Dad’s right behind her, pulling me into a bear hug, his hair somehow grayer than it was a few months ago.
“How you doing, kid?”
“I’m good, Papa. How are you guys? Need any help around here?”
“Nah, we’re okay.” He grins, but it’s the kind of smile meant to distract me from the hell they’re going through.
I can feel the burden behind it. He’s beyond stressed. They both are.
“You look pale.” Mom’s hands cup my cheeks, like she’s checking me for a fever. “Are you eating? Sleeping? Going on any dates?”
“Oh, no. Here we go.” A groan slips out as I duck past her toward the sofa in their office. “Ma, please, not today.”
She trails after me, completely undeterred. “Not today? What does that even mean?” Her eyes widen in outrage. “You’re twenty-eight. If you ever want to get married and have children, the time is now. You may not have a deadline, but your ovaries do.”
Oh God, please give me a bullet. Where is Aleksei Marinov when you need him?
“I’m sure there’s been a handsome defense attorney or two lately,” she presses.
The look I shoot her is both wild and exaggerated. “Are you kidding? I’d neverdateanyone from the other side, let alone marry him.”
She scoffs. “Defense attorneys make money, sweetheart.”
“Life isn’t all about money.”
“Oh, really?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Tell that to our vineyard. Right, Tony?”
Dad’s chuckle drifts from the coffee pot in the far right corner. “Do I look like an idiot? I’m not getting involved. I’m Switzerland.”
“Coward,” she mutters, shaking her head. “You want your daughter to be alone when we’re dead? Because that’s where she’s heading.”
“Oh, come on. She’s still young. She’s got time.”
“See?” I gesture toward Dad like he’s my star witness. “I’ve got time.”
“Per l’amor di Dio, finirai zitella e con dieci gatti.”For the love of God, you’ll end up a spinster with ten cats.
Oh, no. When Mom starts talking in Italian, we know we’re screwed.
“Don’t worry, Ma. The right man will come.”Or not.“I’m just currently surrounded by psychos.”
Her gaze sharpens. “How psycho are we talking?”
My jaw drops. “Wow. Nice one, Ma. Whose side are you on?”
She smirks. “What? Sometimes the crazy ones are better in bed.”
“Angelica! Come on.” Dad groans. “My poor ears.”
“What?” She tosses her hands in the air, completely unfazed. “We’re all adults here.”
Dad scratches his head, shaking it with exasperation. But he loves my mother more than anything. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a love stronger than what they have.
“Alright, enough,” I cut in. “No more talk about my love life. Or anything else that’ll haunt me forever.”
Mom scoffs. “Fine, I’ll stop. For now. But I’m serious about the defense attorneys.”
