The drive to Genova stretched for three long hours. He spent most of it mentally rehearsing Italian to try to impress Sofia’s father, even though Alejandra and Carlos had reassured him everyone usually spoke Spanish when they were all together. Still, he wanted to make a good impression. He hadn’t even brought a gift—nothing for the family, not even for the nieces.
“Relax,” Alejandra said, her hand resting on his tense shoulder. “She’ll be happy to see you. She’ll probably burst into tears. Sofia’s much more of a crier than she lets on.”
“I don’t want her to cry,” he admitted, running a hand through his curls.
“But it’s a good cry,” she replied softly. “It’ll be alright.”
He nodded, though his heart still thrummed hard in his chest. He didn’t know what Sofia would do when she saw him. But he hoped that her heart would understand what his presence meant:I love you. I’m here. I’m not leaving.
47
SOFIA
pa - TINI
Family time had been surprisinglyfun, more than Sofia remembered. She hadn’t ended up biting her sister’s head off, her mother hadn’t bothered her for her usual messiness, and her father—well, they had never actually fought much.
She’d spent the morning working from the garden while Francesca and Ginevra pretended to do homework beside her, mimicking her typing with their own colorful notebooks and gel pens. Gabriella slept until lunchtime, and her mother hovered, offering her food, iced drinks, a sunhat she refused three times. Her father, as her sister had told her, spent most of the day gazing out at the Mar Ligure.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Sofia said gently, sitting beside him in the late afternoon, just before they were all set to head down to the beach for a quick dip.
“Sad thoughts or happy thoughts?” he asked, still watching the horizon where ships drifted like silent beasts.
“Real ones.”
Her father sighed. They always spoke Italian together, but he always laced his words with that gentle cadence of Ligurian dialect, the one she understood but had never mastered. The one that reminded her of her grandparents and of simpler, saltier summers.
“I don’t think I’m ready to let go, Sofia.” Her heart broke. “Life, my family... It's too early, and it kills me inside. I’ve tried to stay positive this whole time, but nothing’s getting better.” His voice wavered. “So, I sit. I look out at the sea. And I pray that when I go, you’re all taken care of.”
Sofia clenched her jaw, trying really hard not to cry. She had already used that card when they met, and an anchor is what her father needed. Not a cry baby like her.
Her father continued. “I know friends in the hospital who’ve made peace with it. Too much pain. Too much loss. But me?” He took her hand and squeezed it. “To me, the pain means I’m alive. It means there’s still a chance.”
She blinked fast.
“It’s okay if you cry, Sofia.”
“I can try not to, for once, belin,” she whispered, though her eyes were already damp.
Her father chuckled softly. “You’ve always been a sensitive kid. With people, with the world. And then you grew up into this strong woman. I’m proud of you, of everything you’ve accomplished since you freed yourself from that coglione.”
“All of you hated him and never cared to tell me?” she muttered, half-joking.
“We thought you were happy. And that was enough,” he replied, finally looking at her and smiling, worn and warm.
“A heads-up would’ve been appreciated.”
“What about this Ilias? How did he take it when you said you weren’t going to Brazil?”
“He was okay with it. He lost his father a few years ago. He’s helped me a lot,” she said softly, squeezing his hand again. “He’s a good guy.”
“Do you love him?”
Sofia smiled, turning her gaze to the horizon. “I think we’re heading inevitably in that direction.”
“And your business?”
“Better than ever. TerraVive’s investment gave us a solid boost, but we already doubled the income through tours booked one year in advance and other sponsorship that have rolled in. This fake PR stunt has definitely benefited Salacia too, more than the 200k TerraVive gave us.”
