“God, I’m looking forward to the end of this latest teenage attitude phase,” I said, pulling the keys from the ignition.
“You and me both,” Bee croakily whispered. She signed, “You can forget about any babysitting anymore.”
I laughed. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
“You sure you are ready to see him again?”
I sighed, folded my arms over the steering wheel, and looked up at Tore’s villa through the windshield.
“What choice do I have? It happened. Avoiding the facts isn’t going to change them.” And I’d be damned if I let Renzo see how much he hurt me, especially in front of everyone else at this family brunch.
I thought I had lived through the worst of my life’s humiliation years ago in the Hayes house, until last night. The worst part was that I’d gone through with it willingly, believing some stupid, puffed-up lie in my head that he cared about me the same way I did for him. After all those years of letters, after everything Itold him and he told me, all to lose my virginity to that asshole and get absolutely nothing out of it. Not even a decent freaking orgasm.
I took one last deep breath to center my thoughts and got out of the car. Ruminating over last night wasn’t going to do me any good today. With my sunglasses on to hide the remaining redness from my last good crying session on the drive over, I sauntered up the D’Amico mansion driveway in the vineyard countryside, one door down from the Iannelli mansion. At least today I was dressed as myself—tight top, baggy jeans, and a pair of colorful gumshoes.
“Good morning, Ms. Burch. Ms. Johnson,” Gerald, the house manager, said. “They’re waiting for you in the veranda.”
“Wonderful.”
Bee and I hooked arms and headed down through the wide spaces. I adored this house, with its open rooms and an endless garden. I used to love getting lost in it when I’d been a girl, trying to figure out what I wanted and how to release all that pent-up anger I didn’t know what to do with. Not much had changed since I moved out. There was the dining table where Vinny taught Boyan how to play chess. The couch with old popcorn probably still stuck under the cushions. The chandelier we hung Christmas and Halloween decorations from. The veranda where we ate breakfast and dinner, watching the sun rise and set on different sides. The place was filled with good memories. It was a shamehewas tainting some of them now.
By the sound of the kids’ voices mixed in with a volley of others, they must have already joined up with Tore, Uncle Vinny, and their guest of honor. Bee and I paused at the back door.
“You can do this.”
I nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the veranda. I waved to those who raised their heads. Lou was already buried in her phone, texting her life away in a corner, whileBoyan bragged about the latest video game I bought him, a portable console in his hands, ready to demonstrate.
“Sorry we’re late.” I made the rounds around the long table, air-kissing the cheeks of my adoptive family and friends. “We hit some traffic on the way.”
When I reached Renzo, I debated for one foolish second whether or not to lean in for an air kiss. He was just as handsome as last night, his eyes gleaming with the morning sunlight despite their frosty glare. His features were a bit leaner than seven years ago, with the first few wrinkle lines starting to set in at the corners of his eyes, but if anything, it made him more attractive.
“Who are you?” Renzo’s voice was as detached as his face.
He recognized me all right, but it was the kind of awkward recollection that he’d rather not mention at the table. That burned. He really hadn’t known it was me. Nausea crept up my throat. I swallowed it back down and focused on my little brother.
“What’s the rule at the table?”
“I just want to show them this game. Please, two minutes,” Boyan pleaded.
“Two minutes that somehow always end up turning into a half hour. Put it down, Boyan. You’ll get it back after we’ve eaten and not at the table.” He stuck his tongue out at me as I handed around the wicker basket specifically reserved for collecting our electronic devices during family time. “Real mature. You too, Lou. Put it away. Tore, Vinny, Jac. Take a break. It’s not like you guys don’t work enough.”
“Spoilsport,” Tore said, flicking one of his trusty lighters open and closed, then placing his phone upside down in the basket.
“Oh, please. Someone’s got to do it. Otherwise, we all know none of us’ll eat for hours. Come on. Chop-chop, everyone.”
“You play a hard game, Anzy.” Vinny slid his phone my way, then saluted me with a raise of his Bloody Mary.
“Only when it’s the one that was handed to me.” I placed it in the basket and collected Nannu and Nonna’s phones, Tore’s parents, whom we treated as our grandparents.
“You’re a good girl.” Nonna gently clapped my hand.
“Anzy?” Renzo’s voice registered in the background.
“Yes, reintroductions.” Tore clapped. “Renzo, you remember Ainsley Burch?”
I expected to see wide-eyed recognition on his face, or at least a smile. All I saw was a smidgeon of confusion. Just a twitch of an eyebrow, a bob of his throat, there and gone so quickly I might have imagined them. Apparently, that was all I merited, and it was like a punch to the chest. He stood and extended his hand.
“It’s been a while,” Renzo said.
