“I’m okay,” I said. I’d already had two glasses of champagne, and I was a lightweight.
“Grab me an old fashioned, would you?” Gino asked his wife.
“Of course.” They walked off.
I smoothed out a wrinkle over my hip and fidgeted with my bracelet. I wasn’t sure what to say to the Ferraro don.
“You seem nervous,” Gino commented.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”
“It’s your shoulders. They’re stiff. You don’t stay in my position for long without learning how to read body language.”
I forced myself to relax. “I suppose I’m allowed to be a little nervous around the in-laws.”
To my relief, he seemed to find that funny. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed. “That’s true. I remember how nervous I was when I met Vita’s mother. First time I ever saw the woman, I asked for her daughter’s hand. I showed up at her house with this huge bouquet of roses. Imagine my horror when she turned out to be allergic to them.”
I gasped. “And she still let you marry Vita?”
“I won her over eventually.” He smiled. “Turned out she loved marigolds. Those things have to be replanted every year. So for the rest of her life, I made sure she had marigolds planted just outside her front door. She said she loved seeing them appear each year as if by magic.”
“That’s a very sweet gesture.” And unexpected from the man my father had painted out to be the devil incarnate. Just from this short conversation, I was starting to realize that I needed to let go of whatever preconceived notions I had of Gino.
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a rectangular object wrapped in simple brown paper and tied with a white ribbon. “Rafaele mentioned to me that you love art. This is a small engagement gift for you.”
Now I was really charmed. I took the package from him. “Can I open it now?”
“Of course.”
Curiosity fluttered inside me as I unwrapped the crinkly paper. It looked like a notebook. No, not a notebook—an old sketchbook. Pressed into the leather cover was the letter F. I opened it. Gino’s name was written neatly on the first page, followed by a range of dates. I turned the page. A pencil sketch of a boat sitting on a lake that reflected a grand villa filled the paper.
“Wow.” I looked up at him. “You drew this?”
“I’m no Van Gogh,” he said with a chuckle. “But I like to sketch on occasion. Some memories feel like they’re never going to fade, but over time, they just do. This was my way of holding on to the ones I didn’t want to lose. A lot of the drawings in here are of places from my childhood in Sicily. One day, I hope I’ll get totake my sons there on a trip. We’ve never found the right time to do it.”
His words made an ache bloom in my chest. Maybe because looking into Gino’s eyes, I could just tell he was the kind of father who genuinely loved his children.
I had never had a father like that.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and closed the sketchbook carefully. “I’ll treasure this. Thank you.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Let me have someone bring this up to my room. I don’t want to risk misplacing it.”
I flagged down a server and handed over the sketchbook. I couldn’t wait to look through it more carefully later.
The interaction with Gino had lifted my spirits regarding the marriage. It felt good that he approved of me. That he and Vita were excited to welcome me into the family.
“I know you’ll make a good match for Cosimo,” Gino said once the server walked off. “I can tell you have a gentle heart, and I think that’s exactly what my son needs. Even if he doesn’t yet realize it himself.”
I stayed quiet, listening. The more Gino wanted to share with me about Cosimo, the better. I hoped it would help me find some common ground with my future husband. I regretted not taking the opportunity to ask Vita a little more about him at our lunch.
“Cosimo is the eldest. He’s carried that heavy burden his whole life.” Gino’s expression turned thoughtful. “Vita and I have triedto prepare him, but sometimes, I wonder whether the lessons we taught him were the right ones.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“As the man who will one day become don, he has to keep his walls raised high. But Cosimo…” He paused. “I think he’s forgotten how to lower them for anyone.” A sad smile touched his mouth. “The older I get, the more I realize that in the end, the people close to us are all we have.” Something almost regretful passed over his face. “I don’t want him to wake up an old man and realize he missed the parts of life that matter most. I hope you can help him see that in time.”
