Page 7 of Enzo

Darling, my treasure. Mama talks to us so lovingly. She makes each of us feel so fully, and unconditionally loved. Rio mentioned that Father struggles to call us by our names, let alone use any affectionate terms.

“I have some things to take care of. My plants, my garden—”

“You pick those things over us?” I cry in mock-exaggeration.

She shakes her head as she passes by me, to grab something from the fridge.

“My friends are wondering where I am.” She cups my cheek fleetingly. “I have to leave, but I will be back.”

For someone who's built such a lovely life in Italy, I can't help thinking how much fuller it could be here. I'm determined to convince her to change her mind.

“You can live in two places. We'll buy you a place here. This can be your home too.”

She smiles. “When the grandchildren come ...”

“Mama,” I groan. “You can't blackmail us.”

“I'm not blackmailing you, baby.” She laughs softly. “I'm simply saying... when the children come, you'll all be busy. You're already busy with your lives and your careers, and I will be here for you all, for whenever you need me.”

She looks around the room. “I'm happy to see that everyone is...”

She stops.

Everyone is settled.

Everyone has a girlfriend. A partner.

Someone.

Her eyes settle on me.

I'm the only one who doesn't.

It's not something I think about. Not too much. My work and routine keep me busy. It's all good.

“I want someone to love you the way you deserve, tesoro.” She wipes her hands, and cups my face again, the way she has ever since I was little.

“Of course.” I try to laugh it off, because I don’t want her to worry about me, but I know that she does. I see it in her eyes, in the way she fusses over me, like I’m still a little boy.

When I tell her sometimes that I’m grown up now and she doesn’t need to worry, she says “You’ll always be my baby, tesoro.”

“I'm going to a masked ball in Venice,” I tell her as she starts slicing the red peppers.

She stops. “You mentioned it. At the Doge's Palace?”

I nod.

“I didn't think events were allowed there.”

“Apparently they are. I'll come and see you after.”

“Wonderful. Let me know in advance. Don't just turn up at my doorstep like Matteo did. I'll make sure I have your favorite dinner ready.”

She's a nurturer. A feeder. A gatherer of family and friends. A woman who makes everyone feel comfortable. A woman I am proud to call my mother. Sometimes I wonder how she ever ended up with someone like Paul Knight. And then I wonder how her heart must have broken that day when I showed her the photo.

Everything changed that day.

That day, so many years ago, when my curiosity got the better of me and I pulled the photo out of my father's pocket.