Before things can become uncomfortable, Lina serves the first course. Conversation revolves around the sourcing of the best burrata until she comes to clear the plates.
Lucia compliments her on a delicious start to the meal and I swear the older woman almost swoons. She's been around my brothers and me, Elio and Riccardo for more than two decades and this is the first time I've seen her so eager to please.
As the evening wears on, the conversation moves from one safe topic to another, largely because Violetta is so adept at directing the discussion back to our guests whenever they accidentally hit on something uncomfortable.
I spend much of my time watching her as she observes the interaction between my brother and the woman he adores. She sees the same things I do.
They're a couple wholly at ease with one another. Lorenzo tops up Lucia's water whenever she runs low. She passes him the bread before he asks for it. Whenever they disagree on a point, they argue it back and forth until they settle on something they both find satisfactory.
At one point Lucia reaches over and brushes something from his collar without breaking her sentence. There's a natural intimacy between them.
What surprises me is not that it's happened but how quickly they've become attuned to each other. Their relationship isn't much older than mine and Violetta's. The difference isn’t time, it’s what they did with it.
When our dessert of grilled peaches and vanilla gelato is finished, Lucia gets up and hugs Lina, thanking her for the delicious meal.
"Would you like a tour of the house?" Violetta asks.
Lucia's face lights up. "I would love that."
As the two women walk off, apparently best friends already, Lorenzo moves to the seat Lucia vacated. I open another bottle of wine but he waves me off when I try to pour him a glass.
"I'm driving."
"Since when did that stop you?"
"Since I have a pregnant woman to take care of." He narrows his eyes. "It's not like you to drink so much."
"I'm celebrating your happiness."
He fixes me with a stern look. "You're drowning your misery." He sighs as I gulp my wine with a petulance that doesn't suit a man of my standing. "I take it things are no better."
"She's still sleeping in her old room." I set my glass down. "How did Lucia come to terms with this world? After the restaurant? After Martelli?"
"Well, you killed that asshole, so that helped."
When I glare at his flippant answer, he runs his fingers through his already messy hair.
"She didn't come to terms with it. Not really. She accepted me because I stepped back a bit."
"I can't give Violetta that."
"Has she asked you to?"
I shake my head. "She hasn't asked me for anything except space."
"Then give her that." Lorenzo presses his lips together as if deciding whether to say more. "She watches you, fratello. When you're not looking. For what it's worth, she misses you too."
I don't respond but he doesn't expect me to. Deep and meaningful discussions about our emotions isn't something we do.
We talk for a while more, focusing on business, and then head through to the sitting room where Violetta and Lucia are laughing together. Violetta has her legs tucked under her, the pose she adopts when she's relaxed. She tenses slightly when we come in.
Lorenzo sits next to Lucia and puts his arm around her. She leans into him.
Violetta watches them. There's a flash of wistfulness on her face. Is this what she wants from me?
I'm not sure I know how to give it.
TWENTY-THREE
