49. Katie
Katie
The next two weeks pass in a blink, which feels right considering I’ve apparently decided to speed run my entire life.
I quit the bar. Sarah was not thrilled, and I know that because she hit me with the silent judgment face she’s perfected over the years.
Best friend telepathy is real, and hers is currently screaming this is a bad idea.
Now every time I tell her I’m staying at Michael’s again, she stares at me as if she’s waiting for the inevitable crash. Joke’s on her. I’m having a great time.
If he doesn’t pick me up, it’s Luca or Sal.
I pretty much never drive my car anymore.
It sits in my driveway—a sad little reminder of the life I had two seconds ago.
If it were up to Michael, it’d already be gone.
He’s brought up getting me a new one more times than I can count.
Something “reliable,” like a Mercedes or a BMW, as if those have ever been words that applied to my life.
I just stare at him when he starts talking like that.
Because I already know if I open my mouth, he’ll shut it down with that calm, unmovable tone and tell me if I’m his girl, he needs to know I’m safe.
And apparently, to him, safe comes with a luxury price tag.
When I spend the night, he kisses me before he leaves for work every morning.
Then he’s gone, and I’m left in this massive house with nothing to do except enjoy it.
I sleep in, eat breakfast in the kitchen, read in the gardens, swim.
It’s absurd. I’m living the life of a very rich housewife without any of the actual qualifications for it.
Bella’s taken me to lunch a few times, and I like her more every time I see her. She reminds me so much of how I imagine Beatrice at twenty-six. No nonsense, quick-witted, and maternal enough that you don’t argue with her even when you want to.
A few days ago, Michael showed up with what can only be described as a small art store.
He had canvases, brushes, and paints. He kept bringing things in until my living room looked completely different.
Then he told me I needed to start painting again.
That it would be good for me. I haven’t touched a brush since college.
I stopped when my mom got sick because it was something extra, something I didn’t have time for anymore.
It felt selfish. It was a luxury I couldn’t justify, and now he’s decided I get to have it back. I don’t even know what to do with that.
Today I meet his whole family. His Aunt Sofia is hosting one of his cousin’s birthdays, and from the way he described it, it’s less a party and more an event.
She’s his dad’s sister-in-law and Luca’s mom.
Luca’s dad died when he was little. Michael’s parents live in Sicily, so they won’t be there, but everyone else will.
This is the first time I’m meeting them, which is a lot of pressure for a single afternoon.
“You ready to go?” he asks as I’m throwing my hair up into a ponytail in the bathroom.
“Yeah. Just finishing my hair.”
He watches me through the mirror, his eyes tracking every move. “You look nervous.”
“No shit,” I say, tightening the elastic. “I’m about to meet your entire family.”
He steps up behind me, his arms sliding around my waist.
“They’ll love you,” he murmurs into my neck.
I meet his eyes in the mirror. “And you know that how?”
“Trust me. You’re going to fit right in.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say, unconvinced. “At least Sarah will be there. She’s met them. She can be my buffer.”
“That best friend of yours has my cousin in a chokehold.”
“And I don’t have you?” I smirk.
He laughs, guiding me to face him.
“You’ve got a dangerous amount of influence over me considering who I am.”
“God, your ego is exhausting,” I say, fighting a smile.
“Careful,” he says.
I raise a brow, but I don’t get another word out before his hand finds my face, and he kisses me.
His aunt’s house is gated like his, but there’s a noticeable difference the second we pull up. There’s no guard waiting or stepping forward to check anything before letting us through. The gate opens, and we drive in without stopping.
The road curves gently as we make our way down, lined with massive oak trees that stretch high overhead.
Their branches filter the sunlight, casting shifting shadows across the windshield as we pass beneath them.
It feels quieter here. It’s not empty. It’s settled.
It’s obvious everything has been here for a long time.
By the time the driveway comes into view, it’s already full. Cars line both sides, parked wherever they could fit, and spilling out toward the edge of the property. There’s no order to it. People clearly arrived and found space where they could.
“How many relatives do you have?” I ask.
He chuckles beside me, one hand on the wheel. “Quite a few, Doll.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be.”
The house comes into view, and I’m not prepared for the way it throws me off. It’s big, yes, but not in the way his place is. His estate is expansive, polished, every detail thought through. This feels different.
It’s painted a soft yellow with white trim, stretching wide across the property instead of rising up. The windows line the front, evenly spaced, and catching the light. A white picket fence wraps around parts of the yard with flower beds tucked along the edges, full but not overly maintained.
The driveway curves in front of the house, and the front entrance sits beneath a covered porch supported by white columns.
A dark front door stands at the center, framed by windows on either side.
There are chairs on the porch, angled toward each other, not perfectly arranged.
They’re placed where people would actually sit.
“This is not what I expected,” I say.
He glances over at me, a hint of amusement in his expression. “What were you expecting?”
“Something a little more you.”
That earns a laugh.
“This is my family,” he says.
He shuts off the engine, and the quiet inside the car settles in for a second. It feels temporary. I don’t move right away.
“You okay?” he asks.
I let out a breath, my eyes still on the house. “Ask me again in five minutes.”
He reaches for my hand, pulling it into his.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Easy for you to say. They already like you.”
His thumb moves over my knuckles. “They’re going to like you more.”
I glance at him, narrowing my eyes. “Your confidence is concerning.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
I shake my head.
“Alright,” I say, taking a breath. “Let’s go meet your entire family at once.”
He opens his door, then comes around to mine before I reach for the handle. I step out, and the noise is instant—voices, laughter, and music somewhere in the background. His hand settles at my lower back, guiding me forward.
“Mikey!” someone calls the second we walk in.
A man who looks a lot like Michael comes right over and pulls him into a hug before shifting his attention to me.
“And you must be Katie,” he says, and before I can respond, I’m being hugged too.
“Oh,” I say, blinking.
“Bruno,” Michael says. “Let her breathe.”
“Scusa, scusa,” he says, stepping back.
“My cousin, Bruno,” Michael adds.
Bruno smiles and reaches out his hand. I take it, still catching up.
“Is that my nephew Michael I hear out there?”
I turn, and a strikingly beautiful woman, probably in her fifties, is coming toward us.
Her dark hair is full and styled away from her face, framing it perfectly.
Her skin is smooth and carefully maintained.
She has high cheekbones, and a smile that feels both warm and assessing at the same time.
Her eyes land on me for half a second, and I swear she takes in everything.
“Ah, and Katie,” she says, taking my hands in hers as soon as she reaches me.
“Hi,” I say, smiling.
“Sei bellissima.”
I smile awkwardly and shake my head. “I don’t know what that means.”
“You are very beautiful,” she says.
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”
“Tsk. Of course,” she says, brushing it off.
I laugh, and she turns to Michael.
“You don’t come see me for weeks?” she says, smacking his arm.
“Zia,” he says, half smiling, “work has kept me busy.”
“That work of yours,” she says, shaking her head. “Always taking you away.”
“No work talk,” he says. “Let’s go see everyone. Va bene?”
She huffs, but pulls him into a hug. “Va bene.”
We pass people as we walk through the house, and I don’t think I go more than two steps without hearing, “Mikey.”
He keeps moving with nods, quick hellos, and touching people as we pass. Meanwhile, I’m trying to keep up. People smile at me. Some wave. A couple of them say my name to which I just smile back.
We step into the backyard, and I pause. There are so many people.
Kids are running through the space, yelling and laughing.
Adults stand grouped together, talking loud with drinks in their hands.
The pool is full, people sitting along the edge, others standing around it, all of them mid-conversation.
Tables are set up across the yard, covered in food, plates stacked, napkins everywhere, someone already reaching for something else. Voices overlap. Names get called out. People are moving in every direction.
“Katie! You’re here!”
Finally, I hear a voice I recognize.
“Thank God,” I mutter.
Sarah moves straight through the crowd toward me. People shift out of her way as she goes. She’s wearing the cutest red sundress with little flowers on it, and she’s dragging Luca behind her by the hand. She pulls me into a hug, and I don’t hesitate.
“I thought you two were never going to show up,” she says and looks at Michael. “Hey.”
“Sarah,” he says.
“Sarah,” I echo, mocking him.
He runs his tongue over his upper teeth. “You’re such a smartass.”
“But a really cute one, right?”
He shakes his head not even trying to hide it.
Sarah takes my hand. “I’m stealing her. We’re getting food. You can survive without her for ten minutes.”
Michael’s jaw flexes, but he nods. Sarah loops her arm through mine as we walk away.
“Why is your boyfriend always so intense?”
“He’s not,” I tell her. “and if it weren’t for Michael, you wouldn’t have even met Luca.”
“True, but Luca’s not like Michael,” she says, as we continue through the backyard.
“What does that even mean?”
She shrugs. “Luca’s kind, and funny, and gentle.”
“Um, Michael is all of those things too.”
She gives me a look that says, who are you trying to kid?
“I’m not joking. He’s funny and thoughtful. And he likes taking care of me.”
She purses her lips. “Right.”
“I’m telling you. I’ve binge-watched Gilmore Girls with the man, let him paint my toenails, and he carried my purse in public.”
She squints at me.
“So what you’re saying is, he looks like he would ruin everyone else’s life, but with you he turns into a massive, tattooed golden retriever?”
“Exactly.”
“I just don’t want my best friend getting involved with a guy who’s going to take away all of her autonomy.”
I stop walking.
“Seriously, Sarah?”
“What? He already got you to quit the bar. What else is he going to take from you?”
The anger comes fast.
“You know what? You’re right. He did take it away from me,” I say. “And I’m glad he did. Because he also took the thirty thousand dollars a year I was paying for my mom’s care.”
Her expression drops.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You’re right. You shouldn’t have, and you’re the one who told me to go for him in the first place.”
“I didn’t know it was going to turn into this,” she says. “I thought you might flirt with him a little. Not turn your whole life upside down for him.”
The lump in my throat builds fast.
“I’m falling in love with him,” I say. “I thought you’d be happy.”
She softens.
“Katie—“
“It’s fine,” I say quickly. “Let’s just get food.”
I walk off without her, but she rushes to catch up with me. I make it to the food table and grab a plate. She comes up right next to me, leaning in.
“Katie, please don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you,” I lie.
I grab a plate and start loading it up—watermelon, grapes, cantaloupe, then carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, anything to keep my hands busy. I don’t look at her. A little girl in front of me turns and smiles at me. I force a smile back and look away.
“Hey, Sarah,” a voice says from across the table.
I look up. A woman I don’t recognize is watching us.
“Oh, hey, Carmela.”
I glance at Sarah. She’s smiling at her.
“Carmela, this is Katie.”
“Oh, wow. You’re Michael’s girlfriend,” she says.
I nod. “That’s me.”
“I thought everyone was joking when they said you were stunning.”
My face heats instantly.
“I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything less from Michael,” she says, laughing. “You do seem quite young, though.”
Oh, well fuck you too.
“I’m twenty-four,” I say.
She laughs. “Yep.”
Then she looks at Sarah. “I guess if you’re Sarah’s friend, that makes sense. I knew Sarah was closer to Luca’s age.”
I blink at her.
Sarah jumps in. “Carmela is Luca’s older sister. She and Michael are the same age.”
Amazing. Love that for her. I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes, and I seriously consider walking away before I say something I can’t take back.