Now it’s my mother’s eyes that widen. She recoils slightly, visibly wounded by my words.
“No! For the love of God, Nina! That’s not what I meant at all! What I’m saying is that Nero isn’t the little boy I used to bake cookies for.”
“Time passes for everyone, Mom,” I reply, looking away.
“Don’t play dumb—you’re not. You know perfectly well that’s not what I’m talking about. His family owns this island, Nina. You walked around with him for a few hours during one party night, and the next morning you’re on the front page of Khione’s main newspaper with the headline ‘Greek Heir Hooked?’ above your head! That’s what I’m talking about!”
My eyes return to the newspaper in my hands, only now really noticing the headline.
I almost laugh.
“Seriously, Mom? You just said it yourself—I walked around with Nero for a few hours. It’s not like I’m planning our wedding or picking out our children’s names. I understand that people are curious and dramatic—but you too?”
“What I’m saying, my daughter, is that the rope breaks at its weakest point.”
“Then I guess I’m lucky there’s no rope to snap in this case, right?”
“I saw when he brought you home, Nina.”
“Were you spying on me?” I ask—and now it’s me who leans back.
“Absolutely!” she exclaims without the slightest shame, and my jaw nearly drops. “You’re my daughter, living in my house again after years away. What kind of mother would I be if Ididn’tspy on you?”
“I don’t know how to respond to that,” I say honestly.
My mother lowers her head before releasing another long sigh.
“Your life is yours, my daughter. I’ve always known that, and I’m not about to forget it now. You can do whatever you want with it—including ending up on newspaper covers, if that’s what makes you happy. My role here is simply to ask whether you’re considering all sides of this situation.”
I bite my lip and tilt my head, looking at my mother’s face—and I’m completely disarmed by the concern written there.
“It was just one night,” I say, because it’s true—even though over the last few hours I’ve imagined a thousand different scenarios that could grow out of it.
“And was it the last?” she asks.
I look away.
“I hope not,” I admit, honestly, then look back at her. Now it’s her eyes that avoid mine. “But that doesn’t change anything, Mom. I came back here with a goal, and it won’t be one night—or ten—that convinces me to abandon it. You’ve always done everything for me. I want to give that back.”
I take one of her hands and squeeze it between mine. A moment passes before she rolls her eyes.
“If you work hard enough for that, I’m sorry to say you won’t haveanykind of life. You owe me a fortune. Raising you was very expensive, so we don’t need to exaggerate, right?” she jokes—and it works, because I laugh. The tension immediately eases.
“I understand your concern, Mom. I really do. But you don’t need to worry. I just want to live. Have experiences.”
“And I’ll always support you in them. I’m just telling you to be careful where you step, Nina. Some paths—no matter what we say—simply don’t have a way back.”
I roll my eyes at her maternal drama.
“So dramatic, Rosa Marchesi,” I tease with a small laugh. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
She presses her lips together.
“No matter what happens, I have a plan. And that’s not going to change.”
CHAPTER 11
NERO ZANTHOS
