Rachelle’s stomach curdled. “What do you mean?”
Riccardo kissed her again. “I mean, we’re going to get married pretty soon, you know? We’re going to be in the throes of wedding preparation. We’re going to be in chaos, as far as my mother is concerned. And after that, we’re going to be newlyweds. We’re going to want to travel and see the world and celebrate. And after that? I mean, we want to start a family. We’ve talked about wanting children. And my mother will be impatient for that to happen.”
Rachelle’s chest felt so tight that she wasn’t sure if she could breathe.
“Oh no.” Riccardo laughed. “I didn’t mean to make it worse!”
“You didn’t,” Rachelle lied, trying to smile. “I mean, you have a point, I guess.”
Did he have a point? Her thoughts raced. She’d never considered having children to be counterintuitive to her career. She’d always assumed she could have it all. Was that stupid of her?
After that, Rachelle suggested they go to bed. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow,” she said, because she couldn’t bring herself to continue the conversation. She thought she might scream.
The following morning,Rachelle woke up around ten to find a tremendous brunch waiting for her in the kitchen. Riccardo had gone all out with eggs, bacon, cheese, fruits, and freshly squeezed juice and coffee. Somewhat hungover and slightly exhausted, Rachelle ate in a sunbeam, laughing with Riccardo about things that had nothing to do with her career or their future children. She loved him. They loved each other. None of it mattered!
But that evening, they were invited back to Riccardo’s parents’ place for dinner and more conversations about engagement parties and wedding preparations. Rachelle wore a brand-new dress that Valeria had sent to their apartment in Trastevere. Rachelle knew that she needed to up her game, fashion-wise, if she was going to sit in Valeria’s living room, talking about their shared future. She told herself not to resent this.
This time, Gia and Teresa weren’t at home. They lived in Rome, in apartments opposite one another on a very trendy street. Rachelle had been to both of their apartments and had been floored by their beautiful decorations and expensive textiles. Riccardo had explained that Valeria had decorated both for them, wanting her daughters to have perfect spaces away from home.
Now, Valeria, Tony, Riccardo, and Rachelle drank Negronis on the veranda. Valeria still hadn’t brought up the upcoming engagement party, nor the wedding, but Rachelle felt the conversations coming like an approaching storm. When Rachelle talked about her work in Diana’s kitchen, they switched subjects swiftly, as though they wanted to show her how littlethey cared about all that. Rachelle told herself not to be overly sensitive.
They dined on swordfish and pasta, and a creamy, ridiculously decadent tiramisu. Red wine was poured and poured and poured. Rachelle’s head was foggy. When Tony led Riccardo to his study to talk about “non-wedding things,” Rachelle prepared her heart for Valeria. The table was cleared, leaving the women with glasses of limoncello and nothing else. Rachelle prayed that Riccardo would want to go back to their apartment soon. She wanted to cozy up to him and pretend that nothing was changing.
“Now, before we get into the specifics of the engagement party,” Valeria began, her voice dry, “I want to talk to you about all this restaurant nonsense.”
Rachelle frowned. She felt too exhausted to respond, too exhausted to support herself.
“The thing is, honey. The rules change when you marry into our family,” Valeria explained. “You can keep working for a little while, of course. To fill the time, or whatever it is you think you’re doing. But soon enough, planning the wedding will be your full-time job. When it’s over, there will be travels, honeymoons, and family trips. We’re going to want to show you around the world. You’ll meet our friends in Tokyo, Beijing, and Sydney. You’ll come with us everywhere. And you’ll love it! You’ll taste every kind of cuisine. You’ll wear the most beautiful clothes.”
Rachelle stitched a smile onto her face and sipped her limoncello.
“And after that? I imagine you and Riccardo will want to start a family,” Valeria said. “Now that you’re engaged, things have to change. Things have to be discussed. There are rules in place, implicit rules, but rules indeed. I’m here to help you throughthem. Riccardo doesn’t understand them enough to know how. He was born into them, which means he can’t see them.”
Rachelle managed to say, “I understand,” because how else could she respond? She prayed for the time to pass. She let her consciousness slip away, if only to get through the night.
A few nights later, Rachelle went out with her friends Roberta and Malina, the same young women who’d been with her the night she’d met Riccardo. It was the first night she’d been out with only her girlfriends since the fire. It felt like a relief not to pretend that everything was all right and tell them what was really on her mind.
“I’m scared,” she told them. “Riccardo and his mother are saying they don’t want me to work? I never imagined that I’d be in a relationship like that.”
Roberta and Malina exchanged glances. Neither of them had boyfriends right now, and Rachelle knew that they ached to be loved, that they dated frequently and found themselves in horrible situationships. Nobody wanted to settle down.
“Come on, Rachelle,” Roberta said. “Riccardo is so in love with you! It’s amazing! So he doesn’t want you to work. But he wants you to have his babies! That’s so beautiful!”
Maline nodded furiously. “And he’s from the wealthiest family. You’re so lucky to be marrying into that whole thing! You’re going to have a fairy-tale life. You’re going to have super-smart, super-privileged kids. And you can finally move out of that apartment and into something bigger.”
Rachelle was taken aback. “I love our apartment! Is there something wrong with our apartment?”
“It’s small.” Roberta shrugged.
Rachelle didn’t point out that her apartment was perhaps twice the size of Roberta’s. She had no idea that she was being judged for something like that.
She realized that Maline and Roberta weren’t receptive to her complaints, that they saw no reason she should want to open herself up to the heartache of reopening her restaurant.
“Nobody is saying you shouldn’t be heartbroken about your restaurant and the fire and everything,” Roberta said, pouting. “But it happened! You can’t take it back. And reopening would be the biggest headache ever.”
“Throw yourself into love!” Malina agreed. “Not everyone is lucky enough to have it.”
Rachelle didn’t want to accuse them of being less than feminist. She didn’t want to have this conversation at all. Soon enough, she made an excuse and headed back to her beloved Trastevere apartment, where she wrapped herself up in blankets and watched television for hours. Riccardo was out with Arturo and their other old school friends.
