Epilogue #2
“As you will have read in the letters,” Nonna continues, “Giorgio had a period of his life when he made poor choices with regards to women, but he was a good man, and he, as far as I can tell, never broke your mother’s trust while he was here.
He was also a good son, and we will always regret driving him away…
” Her voice is barely a whisper by the end.
I nod.
“Look, I really need to understand… Why wouldn’t you answer Mum’s plea? Why didn’t you help us after Dad died?”
I sift through the pile of letters and find the one with Mum’s handwriting and show it to Nonna.
She shakes her head, holding up a hand and I put the letter back in the pile. “I’m terribly sorry to say this, but from the beginning we were certain Amara didn’t truly love our son. She didn’t look at him the way a woman in love does. She only wanted his money.”
I open my mouth to speak, but Linnea squeezes my hand on the couch, reminding me to let them finish.
“We got the letter, and we were deep in mourning over the loss of our only son. It was hard to see past the grief and the regrets. But we had a friend in England go and check on you for us.” Nonna twists her hands in her lap.
“When they finally found you, you were living in a mansion in Cambridge. Amara wasn’t destitute.
We were right not to give her your inheritance. ”
I gawp at them.
“That wasn’t the case,” I say. “She didn’t live there. She worked there. As a housekeeper.”
Nonna blinks at me and Edoardo shifts on the couch.
I shake my head. “We had to move to Cambridge to live with her friends because we didn’t have any money.”
“Oh.” Nonna turns to Edoardo, and he lifts his hands, shaking his head.
“That’s not what we were told,” he says.
“Seems your ‘person’ wasn’t doing a very good job,” I mutter.
“We didn’t mean… Oh my goodness, we are so sorry,” Nonna breathes, her brown eyes watering as she clutches her heart. “We were too quick. Edoardo,” she says, turning to her husband. “She was telling the truth?”
Edoardo shifts on the couch again. “As I told you, we kept an eye out for you, and we knew you were doing well in Cambridge, which is why we never intervened in your life.” He clears his throat, looking down at his hands.
“But the resentment we held against your mother must have made us shortsighted. We jumped to the conclusion based on what was given to us. How…” His voice cracks and he lifts a shaky, papery hand to his forehead.
“How can we ever ask for your forgiveness?” he breathes, eyes that resemble mine looking straight at me.
Fuck.
“Despite not having a lot of money, we had a good life,” I say, hoping I won’t be the reason an elderly couple dies here today. “Don’t worry about that now. But I’m relieved to hear you weren’t malicious about it.”
“Only quick to assume, I suppose,” Nonna says. “And as the years passed, we didn’t think you wanted anything to do with us, because we never heard from you.”
“I could say the same of you,” I say, raising a brow. “I never knew you were looking out for me.”
Then I burst out laughing, and they share a hesitant chuckle before they give in to their laughs too. Linnea tilts her head at me, her brow wrinkling with a questioning look. I shake my head.
Where would I even start?
“Let me explain this to her,” I say in Italian to my grandparents and turn to Linnea, giving her the short version of this ridiculous miscommunication of the century. She presses her lips together, stifling a smile.
Edoardo lets out a sigh. “We don’t have many years left, and seeing you with your cousins would mean everything to us.”
“As long as you make it clear to them I’m not here for the Aurato inheritance, I’d be very happy to meet the rest of the family.”
“You don’t want it?” they ask at the same time, Edoardo grasping Nonna’s hand on her knee.
“I don’t need money,” I say. “I don’t want to take anything from the family. You must have someone in mind already? To run your business?”
“Yes, your cousin Raphael has been a good CEO.”
“So let him keep doing that. Running a company is not my greatest strength, despite having succeeded at it. I’m more of an investment person.”
“What about the name? The bloodline?” Nonna asks. “Will you give your children our name?”
I look at Linnea and she cocks her head at me, not understanding what they’re asking.
“We haven’t talked about children, but if we do have them, we’ll probably name them Fredriksen after their mum.”
Nonna gapes at me.
“This is a strange conversation for me,” I say. “If we bond as a family, I will consider it. If it means this much to you. But no talk about inheritance, please.”
Nonna glances up at Edoardo and he nods once.
“Let’s go meet the rest of the family,” he says.
“I hope you’re hungry, because we prayed you would stay and we’ve had every Florentine dish we adore prepared for you to celebrate.
” Edoardo pauses, and his steel-blue eyes meet mine. “Will you please call me Nonno?”
“Nonno,” I respond, grinning at them both, letting my widest smile break free, and when Nonna bursts into tears, smiling back at me, I can guess what she sees.
I resemble her son.
She stands up and stretches her arms out, and I meet her in the middle of the room, wrapping my arms around her frail little body.
“Nonna,” I whisper, feeling the weight I’ve carried for thirteen years fall away as I hug my father’s mother, finally knowing Dad was the man I hoped he was.
I tilt my head up, the chandelier above us blurry through my tears, and I blink hard. I can finally do what Linnea’s friends said. Let my dad live on in the stories I tell about him, the stories I can allow myself to remember again.
LINNEA
We lay like starfish on the massive hotel-room bed, still clothed—stomachs full of every Florentine dish we could humanly fit after two rounds of Negroni, feet aching from standing and dancing, and throats sore from talking loudly and a lot.
The oldest of the Aurato family only spoke Italian but the cousins our age and younger all knew English, and wanted to learn everything about us all in one evening.
“This is surreal,” Aiden says.
“Yeah.” I glance at him to catch the smile I can hear in his voice, and he rolls towards me, tucking his arm under his head. He’s smiling, but there’s something else in his expression. Those thick eyebrows push together, forming a small crease between them.
“What’s on your mind, Aiden?” I ask, mirroring his position to face him.
“Nonna. She asked me something we’ve not talked about.” He clears his throat. “I want to say this the right way. No matter what your stance is on this, I’m okay with it. All I want and all I need is you.” He shuffles closer to me, tangling his legs with mine.
“Okay?”
“She asked about children. Is that something you see in your future? In our future?”
The question stirs something in me, and I consider it.
I didn’t want children with Henry, never got that ‘itch’ that some of my friends talked about. The biological need kicking in. And what about my work? I don’t want to be the kind of parent mine were to me but I also have all these design dreams I want to fulfil.
Aiden breathes slowly, waiting for me to answer. I find his steel-blue eyes and I know I don’t have to decide right now. He says he’s okay either way, and I trust his words.
“I’m not sure,” I admit, and share the thoughts that just went through my head, my concerns about work and not wanting to repeat history.
“I understand,” Aiden says, his eyes flitting between mine. “Things are different for us, though. I have enough investments and properties, I don’t need to work full time. I could be a stay-at-home dad.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I’d love to. I never liked the admin side of running a company, and I think my Mayfair playgrounds, as you called them, will need someone else to take over soon enough, regardless. I want to enjoy my time with the people who matter the most to me, and I have the privilege to do so.”
“You might need to start thinking about your spending, then, will that bother you? Maybe taking the train to Italy instead of a private plane?”
Aiden grins. “I don’t splurge too much, coming from moderate means and all. I only have the one flat, and a garage space with a handful of cars I can sell.”
“And you can move into my house, it’ll be our house, although it’s a bit small for a family, isn’t it?”
“No, your house is everything it needs to be.”
“I would have to change the shoe room back to a bedroom.”
Aiden chuckles. “Don’t make any rash decisions now, I love that room. We could buy the house next door and knock down the wall between them.”
I gape at him before I jump up, fullness and tiredness forgotten. “That’s a brilliant idea!”
I clamber on top of Aiden, kissing every inch of his face, and he laughs that beautiful rumbling sound.
“You know,” I say, straightening my arms, gazing down on him, “I’m full of food, but I am suddenly very hungry for your cock.”
Aiden bursts into a laugh, and I study him, waiting for it… When I don’t move, he finds my gaze and then he does what I was hoping he’d do. He tucks his smile back in, nibbling on his full lower lip, making that dimple pop.
“I love when you do that.”
“I know,” he says, stifling another smile. “I didn’t dare read into it at first, all those months ago, but your eyes give you away.”
“Aw, I thought I was so subtle, mentally drooling over you behind my professional mask.”
“As subtle as a foghorn.”
I tilt my head back, laughing, and I know that whatever we decide he will always make me feel like this. Fully and completely loved.
SIX MONTHS LATER
AIDEN
I’ve been carrying this box around for the last month, but even I think I might be moving too fast. Linnea’s been married before, and we’ve not entirely unpacked whether she wants to get married again.
Not that we have to marry, really.
We’ll still be together forever.