Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Fiero grabs my arm and forces me to look at him. “What happened?”
I turn away and look off into the distance, down the centuries-old cobbled street. “Nothing happened.”
“Something happened. Tell us, Dani.” Giovanni steps in front of me, and his brothers join him, surrounding me again. It’s no use trying to lie to them.
“Nonna Sofia knows about us. Your mother does too.”
“What does that matter?” Fiero asks, ire rising in his tone.
“Nonna talked to me.” I recount the highlights of the conversation, and all three of them grow angry.
Fiero folds his arms and scowls. “She is not in charge of this relationship. We are.”
“But she said it would cause a scandal in the village. That it would endanger the restaurant, all of your livelihoods.”
Giovanni shakes his head, smiling, as if Nonna Sofia is the foolish one. “First of all, we have many tourists who visit, and if anything, they would come to the restaurant in hopes of seeing with their own eyes such a scandalous thing.” Matteo and Fiero chuckle.
“Second, even if some of the people in town did decide to take offense, it would not be all of them. We are not so backward as all that.” He takes my hand. “But none of that matters anyway. You are what is most important.”
“You don’t know what you mean to us, Dani,” Matteo says, taking my other hand.
“When we were young,” Giovanni says, “we three brothers were so much closer. We each had our own interests, our own pursuits, but we talked to each other about everything, and always supported each other.
“I feared that closeness was gone forever, but you, Daniela, you have brought us together again. You are the missing piece who has united our hearts once more.”
Tears start to come again, but this time, they’re not from sorrow.
“It’s true,” Fiero says. “I had forgotten what it was like. I had gotten it into my head, somehow, that the way to be my own man was to be as separate from my brothers as I could be. But we are not made stronger by our divisions; we are strongest when we are united. You showed us what was possible.”
Matteo squeezes my hand. “Fiero and I have been prideful, Daniela, and selfish, seeking you for ourselves alone. Thanks to Giovanni, and you, we understand now that our greatest happiness is found when we are together – all of us.
“We do not want to give you up. Not ever.”
“Ever?” I repeat, hope flaring, wild and untameable, in my heart.
“Ever,” Fiero says firmly. “We want to build a life with you.”
“You said you love it here.” Giovanni holds my gaze. “Do you love us?”
“I do,” I say, not needing to give it a second thought. “So much.”
“We love you too.” Matteo gives me a quick, fierce kiss. “Say you’ll stay with us.”
I look out across the ruins that surround us. “This is not how I always imagined my life. But this place is a lesson for all of us that nothing is guaranteed. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t want to let you go either.”
“Then it’s settled.” Fiero smiles. “Don’t worry about Nonna Sofia. We will explain things to her, and she will not bother you again.”
“I don’t want to come between you and your family,” I say, the mention of their precious Nonna stirring up fresh worry.
“You won’t,” Matteo promises. “If she doesn’t listen to us, Mamma will have a word with her too.”
I can’t help but believe them. Because really, who has ever been able to resist these men?
Epilogue
One year later
I sink my hands into the soft dough, push it down, pull it over, and repeat. Making bread can be tiring, but the results are always worth the effort.
Besides, you can’t beat the view from our kitchen window. The sea is especially calm today, with the gentlest of breezes blowing in from the water.
I’ve been practicing and perfecting my bread-making skills, and am getting a reputation in the village as the American who bakes bread. The restaurant has even used my loaves on a few occasions, with good response, and the men and I are talking about possibly expanding it into a regular business.
Signora Bestia stopped by this morning with fresh herbs from her garden, so I’m making focaccia now, to repay her kindness. She’s asked me to call her Mamma Martina, but she will always be Signora in my mind.
We don’t live far from her and Nonna, or from the village, but far enough that we don’t have to worry about neighbors hearing us at night.
I love our home, and it’s hard to believe that I used to dream of moving back to the town where I grew up, because now I can’t imagine living anywhere else but here.
The house is old, but has amazing structure. We’ve made it our own, decorating it with tapestries and paintings on the walls, and rugs on the terracotta tile floors. Fiero’s sculptures serve as focal points in several rooms.