Chapter Seven - Michaela Three Months Ago
Chapter Seven
MICHAELA
THREE MONTHS AGO
CHAMPAGNE STONE BUILT THE walls of the estate home Nina rented for our time in the Estranei countryside. She had chosen it because it reminded her of her home in Haven — a secluded, private estate with stunning views. Complete by an expansive garden and a pool overlooking the lush Italian countryside with five buildings on the grounds: the main house, an annex, a pool house, a barn, and servants’ quarters. A courtyard separates the annex from the main house — Nina and Elizabeth share the main house, while I will be in the annex with Nina’s long-lost cousin who has yet to arrive. At the top of the courtyard, a dining terrace off the kitchen features a wood-fired pizza oven and an extra-long farmhouse table. Two more terraces hold a smaller dining table perfect for morning breakfast and an outdoor fire pit with seating.
Being here feels like living in a fairytale — one I’m not sure I want to leave. And for the last day and a half, Elizabeth and I have been taking the opportunity to enjoy some peace and quiet before what is sure to be a long two weeks.
“She’s here!” I hear Nina call from the main house.
She being Romy Beaumont, the daughter of Audrey Beaumont and granddaughter of Caterina Villa, sister of Lorenzo Villa. Lorenzo was Nina’s grandfather who moved to the United States following the death of his parents. Caterina left Italy two years before their death when she turned eighteen to pursue a career in fashion, much to her parents’ dismay. After leaving Estranei, she lost contact with her family until her daughter, Audrey, got in contact with Nina’s dad before his sudden death. Unbeknownst to his family, until Audrey reached out to Nina almost a year later. When Audrey introduced Nina and Romy, there was an instant connection, like long-lost sisters.
Romy and Nina have spent the past year pouring over the work their parents had done, delving further into the history of the Villa family and its roots. They knew Alessio, their great-grandfather, worked in a vineyard in the Province of Ancona and notes from Audrey pointed to the name Vitali. There are two vineyards in the province that trace back to the name Vitali, and only one with a potential connection to the Villas. Bacami Vineyard in Estranei — the owners Camilla and Enzo Vitali, siblings.
The discovery of Bacami Vineyard was three months ago. Since then, Nina and Romy have been planning this trip to learn more about their family. Unfortunately, Audrey isn’t healthy enough to join them.
I’m not sure what I was expecting when the long-lost Villa cousin stepped out of the black SUV, but it was not a paler version of Nina. Same height and hair color. It was like someone hit copy and paste with a -3 on skin pigmentation. Romy speaks excitedly into her phone in a language I don’t recognize. French, maybe? Her eyes practically roll out of her skull before she bites back at the person on the other end. She says something into the phone before ending the call abruptly and turning to us. “Davina!”
“Romy!” Nina embraces her cousin. “Com'è stato il viaggio?”
“Perfetto,” is the only word I understand as Romy begins to say something in what I think is Italian. Nina nods, and they giggle. “Oh mio... Sono Elizabeth e Michaela?” Nina confirms. “No Italiano?”
“Minimo.”
Romy shares a tight smile before she turns to me and Elizabeth. When she removes the large shades from her face, I notice she has the same green eyes as Nina, but they are much bigger, rounder — like ovals. Her dark brown hair is pulled into a tight, slicked-back ponytail on top of her head. The poet-sleeved sheer white shirt over a tank top shows off her exceptionally slim hourglass figure. As she approaches, I notice she, unlike Nina, has a full face of makeup — foundation, contour, blush, shadow, lashes, lipstick…
“It’s so nice to meet you!” Her English is perfect with the slightest French accent. “Davina has told me so much about you both.” First, she hugs Elizabeth, who welcomes her with open arms, but when she turns to me, I only offer her a tight-lipped smile. She pulls me into a hug anyway. There is something I don’t like about Romy, but I can’t quite place my finger on it, or maybe I’m being too quick to judge.
“You’ll have to forgive us, as long as we’ve known Nina, we still haven’t quite picked up much Italian,” Elizabeth says.
“Nonsense. I need to practice my English, anyway.”
“Come inside, Elizabeth just made brunch. We have plenty,” Nina ushers Romy towards the house.
“E colazione liquida?”
“Plenty of it.”
I smile stepping into the warm morning sun with a fresh cup of coffee. I’m almost convinced we’re living in the wrong country because I could get used to this. I retreat from the dining terrace down to the lower level terrace — planters filled with different flowers surround a wicker patio set. Each terrace has a little garden with a few samplings of the expansive greenery surrounding our vacation home. Despite the conversation outside my window last night, dinner was completely normal. I overheard Nina and Romy talking about my less-than-welcoming remarks to Romy at the pool earlier in the day. A conversation I wasn’t supposed to hear, but it flowed through my open window. “Mi dispiace per quello che ha detto Michaela,” Nina said and I’d heard that sentence more than once in the years. She was apologizing for what I said.
Romy started to reply in Italian, but said, “I think she’s worried.”
“What is there to be worried about?”
“Davina, how would you feel if some person showed up in Michaela’s life, supposedly her long-lost family member and she flew across the globe to meet them.” Nina didn’t respond. “Esattamente.” Nina returned to Italian. That time, I wasn’t sure what she said. I didn’t have to wait long because Romy asked, “Strange how?”
“We can’t talk here,” Nina said before a long pause. “La finestra.” The window .
I had expected some kind of confrontation at dinner, but it never came. Then again, I knew Nina would wait until the right moment to strike.
I settle on the couch, taking a large sip of coffee, and my mind immediately wanders back to my phone call with David the day before leaving home.
“What do you mean you can’t come?” I hissed. I had called to confirm what time I should pick him up from the airport, but instead, he informed me he wouldn’t be coming home. “We leave tomorrow, David.”
“I can’t get away right now, Mic. There’s too much to do.”
“You’re telling me Jonah can’t handle things for a few days?”
“A few days? Michaela, it’s two weeks! That’s a long time. I can’t just—”
”Yeah, you’re right, your work is important, and Barnes needs you there.”
“Don’t do that,” he sighed. “Don’t be a brat." After a moment of silence, his voice was softer when he spoke again. "Look, I’m sorry that I can’t up and leave like Nina and the rest of ‘em. This isn’t a job where I can decide not to go to work today because I don’t feel like it. I’m sorry I can’t be there to see you off, but I’m needed here in D.C. Maybe when you’re back, you can finally come down here for a change.” That’s always the solution. I have to come to D.C., I have to be the one to come to him, or I won't see him at all. “I think you’d like it here.”
“I think you like it there. I’m not having this conversation right now, David.”
“You never do,” he sighed. “Look, I gotta go. We have a dinner tonight and—”
“Sure, yeah, go ahead. I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up without saying goodbye. That’s how it’s been — constantly bickering, going back and forth, taking little jabs at one another — truthfully, it got worse after we got married last August. Saying “I do” that day in the little chapel, I never imagined our life would end up like this. Sure, he’s always been a little rough around the edges, but that’s what I liked most. I thought we’d get to live happily ever after like we had always talked about, but it seems the only happily ever after on the agenda is his. It wasn’t until he started playing pretend with the big wigs in Washington that I noticed he wasn’t who I thought he was.
I take a deep breath of fresh country air, soaking in the warmth of the Italian sun. Long blonde strands blow in the breeze before I tie them up into a haphazard bun. Sipping my coffee, I think back to when we first met almost four years ago…
I sprinted through the doors of Charlotte Douglas International Airport with exactly ten minutes to get through security and to my gate before they closed the boarding door. There was no way I was going to make it. Reaching the ticket counter, I resigned myself to the fact I was going to miss the flight and the friendly smile of the counter associate didn’t do anything to help my anxiety. “She’s going to murder me,” I muttered to myself pulling out my passport.
“I’m sure she’ll understand, dear.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but you don’t know Nina.” Digging through my purse for my phone, I dreaded the phone call I was about to make. “When is the next one I can get on?”
“Well,” the older woman typed on the computer. “Looks like we have some room for you on the noon flight.”
“Okay, that’s not bad. I can be there pretty early still.”
“That’ll get you there about 7:00 PM.”
“7:00 PM? That’s too late! Don’t you have any—”
“Sorry, sweetie. All my nonstops are booked. You gotta take a layover in Salt Lake before you land in San Diego.”
“Fine,” I cursed. “Okay, whatever gets me there. Now she’s really gonna kill me.” The older woman — Doris, her name tag read — gave me a sympathetic smile over the computer. After a few moments, Doris handed back my passport and a fresh set of tickets.
“Good luck with everything, sweetie. Hope your friend doesn’t get too mad.”
“She’s probably expecting it, let’s be honest.” I sighed and pulled up the familiar contact. I needed to get my shit together if I wanted her to even consider me for a bigger position in the company — aka the New York office, she had plans for in a few years.
I stuffed my sweater into my purse before shoving it through the X-ray machine. My carry-on behind it. The line for bodies was held up by a group of young twenty-somethings who were flirting with the two TSA agents on the other side. Wasn’t that the opposite of what was supposed to be going on? Where were the grumpy TSA agents who kept the line moving? I could see the bags piling up on the other side of both X-ray machines.
“Oops! Sorry. I moved again,” I heard one of the twenty-somethings giggle. Finally, a female TSA agent stepped in relieving the flirtatious ones. She motioned for the young women to proceed to an older agent who was waiting to search her on the side.
“Thank God,” I heard the man in front of me huff, and I couldn’t help but express my own relief.
He was a tall glass of water. His hair was black and styled to perfection. His back muscles strained against his sky-blue dress shirt. Not to mention the way his gray pants put his ass on display. If he was this handsome from the back, I could only imagine what he looked like from the front.
“Ma’am, please step forward,” a different TSA agent beckoned me forward to a secondary scanner. I cursed him for missing the chance to see what my mystery man looked like.
With no sign of him when I made it to the other side, I slung my purse over my shoulder and reached for the handle of my leather duffel bag. I was mentally preparing myself to wait another four hours before my new flight would start boarding. At least, the gate was nearby one of my favorite bars — I could get a drink before this long ass trip.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice called behind me. I heard them, but I didn’t stop. Surely, they weren’t talking to me. “Excuse me,” it called again, closer. A sudden jerk on the bag in my hands stopped me.
“Hey! What the hell?”
“Would you stop?”
My suspicions were correct. Tall. Dark. And, extremely handsome. Stormy grey eyes glowered down at me. A full beard matched the color of his hair, but it didn’t hide the sharp jawline beneath.
“Are you going to just stare at me or are you going to give me my bag?”
Wait, did he say his bag? I looked down at the bag in my hands and the one in his own. They looked similar, but not quite the same. Mine was a shade lighter and had a front pocket, but the one in my hands did not.
“You speak English, no?”
“Um, yes. Sorry. I didn’t—”
“Are you going to hand it over or… Y'know, some of us have places to be.” I quickly handed over the bag and caught mine before it landed on the ground. He continued to mutter to himself as he walked away.
Later in the day, I stifled a yawn following the other passengers on board my connecting flight in Salt Lake. I stuffed my carry-on into the overhead bin before falling into the seat that would be my bed for the next two hours. Just as I started to let myself slip into a state of unconsciousness, I felt something fall halfway into my lap — a suit jacket. The owner grumbled to themselves stuffing their belongings into the overhead bin. Opening my eyes, I came face-to-face with the same stormy eyes from early that morning.
“Try not to steal my bag when we leave this time,” he says, but this time it’s less assholey. The smile that tugged on his lips told me he was, in fact, making a joke as he fell into the seat next to me.
“Sorry about that,” I said handing back his coat.
“It happens. I'm sorry I was such a grump this morning, it has not been my day.”
“You can say that again.” The seventy-eight text messages on my phone told me exactly how things in San Diego were going. Nina had been laying into people left and right and after the first ten messages, I decided it was best to ignore it until I got there.
“Vacation?”
“No, work.”
“Hitman?” The laugh busted out of me at his outrageous assumption. “I mean, what else would bring you all the way across the country?”
“Anything else,” I chuckled. “Literally anything.”
“I’m David,” he stuck his hand towards me. When I returned the gesture, his hand swallowed mine whole.
The crunch of gravel from the black Mercedes Benz making its way up the driveway interrupts my thoughts. Weird, we aren’t supposed to leave for the vineyard for another hour and a half. Maybe Angelo is dropping off more groceries. “Hey, Angelo!” I stand to meet him but freeze when another man steps out of the passenger seat. “Nick?”
“Hey, Mic!” Nick, dressed in black khakis and a black polo, retrieves his bag from Angelo before handing him a few bills even after Angelo refuses.
“What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t feel right not being here, ya know?”
I smile, “She’s gonna be happy to see you.”
“Well, I’d hope so,” he laughs. “Besides, someone else wanted to join the fun.” As he says it, the man I’d been thinking about moments ago steps around the other side of the SUV.
“David? What are you doing here?”
“Boss told me I needed a few days off,” David’s response light as he drapes his arm across my shoulders. We follow Nick up the steps. “Heard I was supposed to be in Italy for a family reunion and kicked me out.”
“I told him I was heading out last night, so he decided to join,” Nick calls over his shoulder as we reach the kitchen door.
Dark wood-beamed ceilings, contrasting the sand-colored walls, are featured throughout the entire villa. The country-style kitchen features black-stained cabinets and black marble counters, modern appliances, and marble floors. Open shelves float above the sink, and more shelving is tucked into a small alcove to the right of the stove. Elizabeth washes pans from breakfast. “Mic, that you? Can you grab Romy so we can eat? Nin should be back any second from her run.”
“You make enough for six?”
Elizabeth drops the pan in her hands at the sound of Nick’s voice. Her jaw drops when she turns around. “What are you doing here?” She engulfs him in a large hug. “I thought you had work.”
“I did, but this is why I have people who work for me. They can handle it while I take care of important things like this.”
“Oh! David, you too?” Elizabeth seems more shocked than me to see him. It’s a known fact that my husband rarely gets time away from his job with Senator Barnes.
“Senator kicked me out,” he squeezes my side gently before offering Elizabeth a brief smile.
“Did I miss something?” Romy stands in the doorway dressed in high-waisted jean shorts and a tucked white button-down, much more relaxed than yesterday. “Oh,” her words are lost when she finally sees the faces of the newcomers, specifically my cousin. “Hello, handsome.” She flits towards him, her long fingers tracing the opening of his polo, nails lightly dragging across the skin.
“Sto interrompendo qualcosa?” Nick doesn’t hide his smirk at the sound of her voice, and all eyes turn towards the door except his. I’m sure he can already see the look on her face. Her skin flush from the run she’s come back from, chest rising and falling with each breath as she wipes at the sweat on her face.
“Davina! This lovely gentleman—”
“Is Nick,” she interrupts her cousin and Romy looks between them before quickly taking two large steps back.
“I didn’t know. Oh, mon Dieu. I am so sorry.”
Nina doesn’t hide her smirk, finally meeting her husband’s gaze. His lips fall into a soft smile, and she returns it. “C’mon, I’ll show you the room,” she extends her left hand towards him, the ring on her finger sparkles in the sunlight from the window. Did she know they were coming? She doesn’t seem that surprised to see him.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Romy,” Nick says before following Nina up the stairs.
“Oh my gosh,” Elizabeth giggles when they are gone.
Romy’s face turns a deep crimson. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
“C’mon, I’ll show you our room,” I whisper to David, leaving behind a mortified Romy and an amused Elizabeth.
The rolling hills of Estranei surrounding the Bacami Vineyard and Estate look more like a painting than a real-life landscape. The estate began operating in 1891 and would release its first wine two years later. It sits on two hundred and thirty-five hectares of land — close to five hundred and eighty acres — most of which are dedicated to the vineyards, divided based on which side of the estate they sit. Red grapes were planted closer to the coast, while white grapes were planted on the inland, mountainous side of the estate. One of their main goals is to preserve the originality of each wine — each stage of production is done on the estate.
Lorenzo Villa, Nina’s grandfather, grew up here. His father worked as an estate groundskeeper. After the tragic death of his parents, Alessio and Gaia Villa, Lorenzo sold everything the family owned and moved to the United States. He would never return to Italy, much to the disappointment of Tommaso Vitali, his childhood best friend and son of the estate owners.
“Our grandfathers were the best of friends,” Camilla Vitali, one of the current co-owners, tells us as we enter the tasting room inside a large barn. “We still have some photos of them up over here.” She leads Nina and Romy around the corner toward the back of the tasting room.
“You wanna get out of here?” A deep whisper tickles my ear and a hand tugs on mine, pulling me a few steps behind the rest of the group. “Not like anyone would notice.”
“I think they’d notice. C’mon, this is important to Nina, which means it should be important to us.”
“It’s not our family,” David huffs.
“But Nick is mine, and Nina is his, which makes her family mine.”
“Whatever, Mic. You just want to be around that Enzo guy.” David drops my hand and takes two steps away from me.
“You cannot be serious.” Today has been going a little too well, and I’ve been waiting for the moment things implode. Houston, we have arrived. “David, are you starting this right now?”
“I’m not the one who started it.”
“For the love of God.” I roll my eyes and leave him to rejoin the others. As I turn the corner the group disappeared around moments ago, I meet the curious eyes of Enzo Vitali — brother of Camilla and the co-owner of the Estate.
“Oh, hello Michaela,” Enzo says. His accent makes me melt. There is nothing better than a man with an accent. He whispers something inside the office before closing the door, turning to me with a small smirk. “Did you get lost from the group?”
“Something like that.”
“No worries, I’ll help you find them.” I hesitate briefly but take his arm when he offers.
David immediately apologized when we returned from the vineyard that night. And as much as I wanted to stay mad, I couldn’t. We don’t get much time together and I wanted to enjoy vacation, not spend the rest of it arguing.
On the last two days of our trip, David and I decided to stay in Rome while the others traveled to Lake Como; though I am a little sad I won’t see where Anakin and Padme got married. Minus the fight at the vineyard, this trip has been exactly what David and I needed to reignite the spark we seem to have lost a few months ago. However, I am a little worried about what happens when we go home.
Will we go back to the way it’s been? I don’t think I can bear it. Being so far from him for such long periods isn’t working…for either of us. In the beginning, we thought he would at least get to come home once a week, but that rarely happens. He wants me to move to D.C., but I can’t — I don’t belong there, I belong in New York. My entire life is there.
“What are you thinking about?” David asks as we walk side-by-side through the ancient streets after a romantic dinner at Aroma, a restaurant with amazing views of the Colosseum It’s our final night in what might be the most magical place on Earth.
“Just how nice this has been,” I sigh and loop my arm through his, but he feels limp in my grasp. He only nods. Come to think of it, he’s been extra quiet today. “I don’t want to go back home, back to reality.”
A soft chuckle.
“When do you go back to work?”
“I’m flying straight to D.C.”
“You can’t even come home for—”
“Michaela, I’ve been gone long enough, I have to get back to work.” He stops abruptly, “Look, Mic,” he stops abruptly. He pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a long, deep breath. “We need to talk.”
My stomach sinks at his words, but I try to laugh it off. “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?”
“You know what I mean.”