Savage Pride

10

What irony. The humility that makes her so loved by everyone she meets is the very reason she can’t comprehend their adoration. Then again, maybe it’s best to leave things alone. I love her exactly the way she is, and if Carter or any other man isn’t willing to swoop in and claim her, she’s better off without them. The only person worthy of Gia’s perfection is a man who appreciates his good fortune in earning her affection. We spend the rest of the day in lighter spirits, finishing our work minutes before guests begin to arrive for dinner. Gia stays with Mom to help Cecelia with the meal while I walk back home with Livia and Marca. Dad is already at the cottage enjoying a cigar on the back porch when we arrive. I pause to say hello while my two sisters bolt inside and up to their room. “I’m going to get stuck making dinner, aren’t I?” I ask Dad wryly with my eyes trailing after the girls. “That’s the first time Livia’s put in a full day’s work in ages. You’d have a better chance conjuring dinner from thin air than getting her to help.” His rounded lips draw deeply on his cigar, making the embers on the end spark with life. “She’s twenty-three! What’s her problem?” “I prefer not to ask that question. It only brings on a headache.” I roll my eyes and head into the house. Dad hasn’t forced Livia or Marca to do much of anything—ever—so I don’t know why I expect him to now. I guess I’m no better because I can’t summon the energy for an argument about his need to be firm with them. Instead, I check the fridge and find enough ingredients to throw together a simple meal. The girls come down to eat, and as usual, Livia does most of the talking. Marca’s eyes light up when she watches her older sister, and it worries me. Marca is intelligent. She’s quiet and more rational than Livia, but her desire to gain her big sister’s approval has more sway over her than it should. Especially when Livy is such a hot mess. Throughout dinner, I try to engage with Marca but find Livia often interjects her opinions. Separating the two would be a difficult feat—more of a challenge than I am up for at present. With food in my belly and a long day on my feet, exhaustion fills my limbs with lead. I pile the dishes in the sink to be dealt with later and join my dad in the living room. He pats the sofa next to him. “Come sit with me, Lulu.” My chest warms in anticipation of snuggling with my dad. I miss having quiet time with him, just the two of us. Sinking into the old sofa, I sit with my knees up and lean into his side with his arm curled around me. “Tell me about school. You’ve been able to keep your grades up while you work?” “It’s a lot of reading and essays, but I manage.” “You love to read, so hopefully, it’s not too much of a burden.” I laugh. “Yeah. It would be more enjoyable if I wasn’t graded on that reading, but overall, I like my classes.” Daddy grins down at me with adoration in his sad eyes. His eyelids sag above his eyes in a way that makes him look weary, regardless of whatever he’s actually feeling. “I love hearing that. I only wish I could have helped you more so you didn’t have to juggle work and school.” His words remind me of Gia’s concerns about Mom and possible financial troubles. It’s not a subject I normally discuss with my dad, but G has me a little worried. “Daddy? Is there anything going on with Mom that we should know about?” His brows furrow. “What do you mean?” I shrug. “Gia mentioned she thought Mom might be selling stuff—that maybe finances were tight. I thought I’d check and make sure everything was okay.” “There is absolutely nothing for you to worry about. And besides, you should know by now that your mother’s life choices are not your problem.” His words are reassuring, but the remorse in his coffee-colored eyes breaks my heart. It’s not the first time the emotion has aged his features. I try to smile, but the result is brittle and frail. “Hey,” he says with renewed energy. “I forgot to mention earlier than Z asked about you today.” Dad’s attempt at a subject change successfully wipes my mind of all previous conversations. Shock and curiosity are now my only companions. “When?” “This afternoon. He asked how school was going and what your plans were after you graduate.” He what? After we’d already talked and he’d acted like he couldn’t wait to get rid of me, he’d gone out of his way to ask my father about school and my plans? I can’t make a lick of sense out of it. “I’m sure he was only being polite. He couldn’t care less about my plans, trust me.” “Don’t go judging him right now. He’s been devastated at losing his father—you know how much he adored Silvano. And besides, just because he’s not charismatic like his brother doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. Sometimes that’s easy to misinterpret.” Dad always assumed Z stopped hanging out with me because he was older than me, and that was the nature of maturing. I know there was more to it, but it’s not worth arguing over. “Where is Nevio, anyway? I figured he’d have come home as soon as he got the news of his father’s passing.” “I think he’s supposed to get in tomorrow for the wake. There’s no telling with him.” That’s something to look forward to. I haven’t seen Nevio in ages, and he is always loads of fun. Maybe not so much now, considering the circumstances, but it will still be good to catch up. Dad tilts his head closer. “You three used to be thick as thieves.” “That was a lifetime ago.” “True.” He sighs. “There was a time when Silvano and I used to wonder if something might develop between you and Zeno, considering the way you looked up to him.” The laugh that slips past my lips is tinged with bitterness. “Z doesn’t want anything to do with me.” Dad frowns, but his eyes spark like the ends of his cigars. “I’d say that’s his loss, then. But I’m not sure anyone is truly deserving of you.” I’m about to brush off his compliment when I realize he’s having the same conversation with me that I had with Gia earlier today. And he’s right. “Thanks, Daddy.” I rest my head on his chest and try to sear the moment into my memory banks. Mr. De Rossi’s passing was an unfortunate reminder that loss is often unexpected, and every hug from my dad is worth cherishing.