Lunch with Sofia was a rare moment of peace. The sun filtered through the large windows of the dining room, casting warm light on the spread of fresh bread, cured meats, and cheeses. Sofia was mid-laugh, gesturing animatedly with a piece of fruit in her hand.
“And then,” she said, choking on her laughter, “Mamma chased Papa around the villa with a broom because he forgot their anniversary. Can you believe it? A broom!”
I giggled, nearly spitting out the sip of lemonade I’d just taken. “He forgot their anniversary? Alessio’s dad? The one who looks like he’d never forget a single detail in his life?”
Sofia nodded, tears forming in her eyes from laughing so hard. “Oh, yes. He’s all stoic and composed in front of others, but Mamma? She terrifies him.”
The image was too funny. I leaned back
