Chapter 30 #2
“You’re big, like my ragazzi,” she said. “I’ll tell Pietro to put you to work in the olive groves when you come visit me at the villa. Your mother says you like building, sì? Learning what comes from the land will teach you to value life.”
Ethan smiled at her and said he’d like that very much.
Laughter followed, spreading through everyone around us. Even Cecilia laughed, though her smile lingered longer. She kept watching her son with my grandmother, long after Nonna had drawn him into a conversation meant just for the two of them.
Some of my family is staying here with me. Others are in my penthouse, and a few more are in the corporate apartment we usually keep available, prepped now to receive them.
Across the street, Cecilia’s house is lit—porch lights on, Christmas decorations glowing—but it’s empty for the night. I know, though, that isn’t what Ethan is looking at.
His attention veers to his phone from time to time.
At eighteen, knowing your girlfriend is in the same city, maybe only a few neighborhoods away, yet tied to a different family table, is a very particular ache, heightened by his age and the holidays.
I met his girlfriend, Dalila, the other day, when she came over for lunch and Cecilia invited me to join them. They seem happy together.
She’s outgoing, curious. Seemed eager to learn more about me and Cecilia, asking questions while I helped in the kitchen. Ethan is more reserved by nature, but there’s a constant tenderness to him when he looks at her.
I walk over to him, swirling the ice in my glass.
“Is she home, or did she travel with her family?” I ask, coming to a stop beside him as I watch the cold, empty sidewalk between our houses.
Ethan looks up, momentarily surprised, then sighs, offering a resigned smile. “Tribeca. At her grandmother’s.”
“So close, and impossibly far,” I say, shaking my head. “At your age, a few miles might as well be an ocean when family protocol dictates the schedule.”
“Yeah.” He glances at his phone, then locks the screen. “We tried to see each other earlier, but her mom came up with a last-minute brunch. Now it’s just texts.”
“Patience, Ethan. It’s a virtue most of us learn the hard way.” I take a sip of my drink and shift the tone. “But speaking of survival... your mom said you made it back from Ithaca in one piece. How was the transition from the easy life across the street to the upstate cold?”
Ethan laughs, tucking his hands in his pockets. His posture loosens. “Easy life’ is generous. But Cornell... it’s a different world. Studio routine is insane. I thought I knew how to draw until my professor dismantled my first section cut during critique.”
“Welcome to the club,” I say, smiling, memories surfacing from my own days at the polytechnic.
“Engineering and architecture are exercises in humility. You spend nights awake convinced you’ve created the eighth wonder of the world, and the professor looks at it and asks, ‘Where does the plumbing go?’”
Ethan laughs.
“That’s exactly it. Mine went after the lack of thermal insulation on the glass facade I designed.”
I gesture toward the window beside us.
“Well, next time he brings it up, you can use this house as a case study. The renovation here was all about thermal efficiency, triple glazing, acoustic insulation... which helps, considering my cousins are currently testing the limits of human hearing in the dining room.”
He scans the space, studying the ceiling lines and window frames.
“I noticed,” he says. “It’s really well done, Alexander. Seriously.”
“Thank you. Coming from a future Ivy League architect, I’ll take that as high praise.” I check my watch, then look back at him. “Listen, it’ll be a while before dinner. If you want to escape to my office down the hall and call Dalila in peace, feel free.”
Relief crosses his face.
“I think I will. It’s hard to hear her with...” he gestures vaguely toward the noise behind us.
“With a full-scale tarantella happening in the living room?” I nod. “Understandable.” I give his shoulder a friendly pat. “Second door on the right. There’s a scale model of a cable-stayed bridge on the desk, you might enjoy it while you talk.”
“Thanks. Really.”
I watch him head down the hallway, already typing quickly on his phone, likely letting Dalila know he can talk now.
I finish my drink and turn back toward the party. That’s when I notice Alicia, sitting among my nieces, the ones her age and the younger ones as well, talking and laughing as if they’ve known each other for far longer than just five days.
When I asked her what she wanted for Christmas, she surprised me. She said it could be gifts, or a donation to a shelter. I chose both. I made the donation, and the other day, we all went to a shelter she chose to help with dinner and deliver the gifts.
I couldn’t stop there. I found a rare edition of her favorite fantasy book, the one set in Middle-earth. She told me the other day how she likes to reread it, how it never gets old. She spoke about the story with such enthusiasm that, for a moment, I considered reading it myself.
For Ethan, with his mother’s permission, I arranged a weekend away for him and his girlfriend in Aspen. Open dates.
For Cecilia... I wanted to give her a ring. A very specific one. But I know it isn’t time yet.
So instead, in January, I’ll take her to Istanbul, for a few days.
The rest is already wrapped and waiting under the tree she, the kids, and I decorated before my family arrived.
Delicate, desert rose-shaped earrings, commissioned from the Milanese jeweler my family has trusted for years, each stone set exactly where it belongs, mirroring the rose’s colors.
And new journals as well. Made for her by the same artisan who crafted the first one I ever gave her.
I always smile when the memory of her confession surfaces, thinking back to weeks ago, when she told me she had returned to journaling.
I remember it like it was yesterday. With her cheek resting on my chest, she told me she’d finally started using the journal I got her for her birthday back in February.
“You make me want to write the things my words can’t say out loud,” she’d said, before pressing a kiss just above my heart.
Since then, it’s become something we share. She reads me passages from her journal whenever there’s something too deep, too delicate to voice any other way.
When I notice her absence, I scan the room and see her slipping toward the backyard with Sam. I follow, receiving absentminded pats on the shoulder and brief greetings from cousins and uncles as I move through them.
The cold night meets me the moment I slide the glass door open.
Slipping off my jacket, I step up behind her and drape it over her shoulders. No matter how beautiful the green dress she’s wearing is, it won’t protect her from the chill.
I wrap my arms around her waist, and she exhales, leaning back into me as we watch Sam run in wide joyful circles across the lawn, stopping to sniff along the edge of the covered pool.
I tilt my head toward the sky.
“Did you know some cultures believed you could whisper wishes to any star, not just shooting ones, and they’d listen?” I murmur near her ear. “Maybe tonight, of all nights, they’re listening a little more closely.”
Cecilia turns in my arms to face me. The glow of the exterior Christmas decorations illuminating her beautiful face.
“I already have everything I want,” she says, her hand over my heart. “I love you, Alexander. And whatever might be missing, we’ll make it happen... together.”
“Ti amo, Cecilia.”
Cradling her face, I kiss her. The tastes of wine and cognac mix as our tongues touch. I pull her even closer to me, deepening the kiss.
Sam barks, and Cecilia smiles against my lips, never breaking the kiss. Pressing her body into the railing, one hand on her nape, I smile too, knowing that whatever comes next, we have already found our way home.
Ethan
I watch the numbers change on the elevator display while Alicia stands beside me, a reusable bag hanging from her hand.
At the end of dinner, after we’d opened the presents, she talked to our dad, and I saw something change in her expression.
When I heard her ask Mom if she could go see him now, instead of later for lunch like they’d agreed—because Dad was alone and she didn’t want him to spend Christmas by himself—I offered to bring her.
I didn’t really think about it. I just knew it was the right thing to do.
Even knowing that some of Alexander’s family is staying in this same building, and that they’d be coming back soon, I still wanted to be the one to bring her.
The doors slide open into the living room. And I see him, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands tucked into his pockets.
Something unfamiliar tightens in my chest at the sight of him.
“Dad!” Alicia says, hurrying toward him.
He turns just in time to pull her into a tight hug. His eyes close as he presses a kiss to the top of her head.
“What are you doing here, princess?” he asks, smiling.
“Mom said I could sleep over,” Alicia says, smiling back. “I told her not to call because I wanted to surprise you.” Then she turns toward me. “Ethan brought me.”
Only then does he look in my direction, to where I’m standing near the open elevator.
“Ethan,” he says, my name breaking slightly as it leaves his mouth.
I straighten and walk toward them. I hold out my hand. “Merry Christmas.”
He takes it, then pulls me into a hug.
“Sorry,” he says, his voice thick. “I had to.”
I swallow the tightness in my throat and hug him back. But I don’t let it last. Stepping back, I turn to Alicia.
“Aren’t you going to give him what you brought?”
She laughs and goes back for the bag she left behind, pulling out several containers and setting them on the coffee table.
“Nonna made sure to send a little of everything when I told her I was coming to see my dad.”
“Nonna?” he asks, confused.
“It’s Alexander’s grandmother,” I say. “It means grandmother in Italian, even her great-grandchildren use it. She asked us to call her that too.” I add, watching him.
I notice the movement in his throat as he swallows.
“You call her that too?” he asks me.
I nod. “I never had a great-grandmother,” I tell him after a moment. “She’s... a nice lady. Really funny. And surprisingly active. You wouldn’t guess she’s over eighty.”
He doesn’t add anything else. Instead, he shifts closer to Alicia and sits down on the rug beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly touch.
“Did your mom make any of this?” he asks, his voice low.
“Mom helped with everything. Ethan and I did too. Actually, everyone helped with something. Cleaning, setting up, cooking, decorating. It was really messy, Dad. But in the best way.”
He smiles at her. But I see it before he can mask it, the ache in his eyes, the longing he keeps just under the surface.
“I’m glad you had a good Christmas, sweetheart.”
She asks if he’s eaten yet. When he says no, she smiles, leans in, and kisses his cheek.
“I’ll heat some of the food for you,” she says, already standing.
I sit on the couch across from him, and his attention turns back to me.
“Why didn’t you have dinner with your parents and everyone else?” I ask.
He gives me a tired smile.
“When was the last time your grandparents reached out to you?” he asks, “And I don’t mean through gifts—which we both know are sent by the butler, or my mom’s personal assistant.”
I have to stop and think.
“They called the night before my graduation,” I say. “To congratulate me on being valedictorian. They even invited me to the club, but—”
“You never liked those places,” he says, his gaze drifting. “I don’t try to have a relationship with my parents anymore. And to be honest, I prefer it this way. I want you and Alicia far from all that toxicity.”
Before, every time we went to see Barbara and Richard—as they insisted on being called—he always wanted us at our best. I remember him telling Mom that if it were up to him, he wouldn’t go. But they were family, and family meant showing up.
I don’t know what to say. So I just nod.
After a moment, he clears his throat.
“So... how are things with your girlfriend?” he asks, tentative. “Dalila, right?”
“Good,” I say, unable to keep the change in my voice. “I’m seeing her in a few days.”
“Ugh. Dalila, right?” Alicia says as she sits down, placing a plate in front of him. “You always act weird when you talk about her. She’s so annoying and stuck up.”
“Alicia,” I say, shaking my head, “you know I hate when you say that.”
At least she never says it in front of Dalila, who for some reason, seems to like Alicia even when Alicia doesn’t make much of an effort to know her.
“But she is,” Alicia insists, rolling her eyes at me. “All she ever talks about are the bags she’s going to buy and the parties she went to with those other two annoying girls.”
I flick her on the cheek. She recoils in exaggerated outrage, then retaliates, hurling a pillow at me.
The laugh that follows catches me off guard. I look up and find our dad watching us, laughing in a way I haven’t seen in a long time.
“You two never change,” he says, smiling, pulling Alicia into a loose half-hug. “Please never change.”
Maybe you’re the one who’s changing, after all.
I don’t say it out loud. Some things feel safer when you let time be the one to say them.
Alicia starts telling him everything she got for Christmas. I notice that even though he flinches every time Alexander’s name comes up, he keeps his smile in place, listens, asks questions, keeps eating.
I add a comment here and there. Then, without really planning it, I make up my mind.
“Does the other bedroom still have clothes in my size?”
He looks at me, surprised. “It’s exactly the same as the last time you stayed here.”
“Would it be okay if I slept here tonight?” I say. “I think I’m too tired to drive.”
I can see how much it hits him as he nods.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice thick.
Alicia puts a movie on and dims the lights. She and Dad take one of the couches. I stay on the one where I’ve been sitting and lean back, making myself more comfortable.
The whole time, I feel his gaze drifting toward me. Like he needs to check that I’m still here.
Nothing is going to change overnight. But I’m willing to start trying.
For Mom. For Alicia. And, if I’m honest with myself… for me, too.