Summer Of Vows

The Clause.

Elena stopped walking.

“She what?”

“Don’t yell at me” Chiara said. “Yell at her. I tried to stop her. She said you two need to ‘talk things out like adults'"

“I was eight when we last had a normal conversation” Elena said. “We don’t have things to talk out.”

“Suree” Chiara said smirking.

“That’s why your face went red when he handed you that tool earlier.”

“I..” Elena didn’t have a defense for that. Because it was true and she hated it.

They reached Nonna’s door. Elena could hear her humming in the kitchen. Normal. Safe. Except, now the man she’d spent years avoiding lived ten feet below her bedroom and her Nonna seemed to think that was a good idea.

Elena dropped the lemons on the table harder than she meant to.

Nonna didn’t even flinch.

“Put them in the bowl, tesoro. And don’t slam things. Matteo’s under the house. He’ll hear.”

Elena went very still. “He’s under the house?”

“Fixing the pipes” Nonna said. Like that was normal. “You can go say hello. He doesn’t bite.”

“He kind of does” Elena muttered.

Nonna’s eyes sharpened. “He’s a good man, Elena. Scowls too much, but good. You should talk to him.”

“I should unpack” Elena said.

And fled upstairs before Nonna could argue.

The room above the workshop was small. One bed. One window. One door that led to a shared hallway. She could hear Matteo moving below. Hammer. Drill. Low voice on a phone call.

She unpacked fast. Put her clothes away. Tried not to think about the fact that her bed was directly above where he worked.

At 7pm there was a knock. Soft. Three raps.

Elena opened the door. Matteo stood there, dust on his shirt, hair messy from work. He held a mug.

“Nonna said you don’t sleep without tea” he said. Didn’t meet her eyes. Held the mug out. “Chamomile. No sugar. She wrote me a list.”

Elena stared at the mug. Then at him. “You didn’t have to...”

“I know” he said. Still didn’t look up. “But she’ll yell at me if I don’t. So take it.”

Elena took it. Their fingers brushed. Warm ceramic. Warm skin. She pulled back fast.

“Thank you” she said.

Matteo nodded once. Turned to leave.

“Matteo” she said before she could stop herself.

He stopped. Didn’t turn around. “Hm?”

“Why are you being nice?” she asked. Quiet. Honest.

He was quiet for a long time. Then “Because Nonna asked” he said. And walked down the stairs.

Elena closed the door and leaned against it. The tea was warm in her hands. Below, the hammer started again. Steady. Like a heartbeat.

She didn’t sleep that night. She listened to him work until 1am.

Ninety days, Nonna had said when Elena arrived. Ninety days to 'rest and remember where she came from.'

Elena had three years to practice running.

Matteo had two weeks of scowling at her through walls.

The question she fell asleep to wasn’t about Milan or her father or why she’d left.

It was.

Why his 'because Nonna asked' sounded like a lie?

Morning came with sunlight and the smell of coffee Elena didn’t make.

She found Nonna at the kitchen table, thin hands wrapped around a mug, eyes sharp, even though her body was smaller than Elena remembered. A stack of papers sat next to her. Legal papers. The kind that meant trouble.

“Eat” Nonna said. Didn’t look up. “Pasta last night, eggs today. Since Milan's been starving you.”

“I’m okay” Elena said. Sat down anyway. The chair across from Nonna felt heavier than it should.

Nonna placed a plate in front of her. And pushed the papers forward. “Sign these.”

Elena stared. “What are they?”

“Insurance” Nonna said. “For the house.”

Elena didn’t touch them. “Nonna, I’m only here ninety days. I’m not signing anything permanent.”

“Good” Nonna said. Finally looked up. Eyes didn’t waiver. “Because it’s not permanent. It’s ninety days.”

Elena frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means” Nonna said

“You marry Matteo Rossi. For ninety days. Then you file for annulment. After ninety days, the house is yours. No relatives. No court. No Marco.”

The kitchen went quiet. Even the cicadas outside seemed to stop.

Elena laughed. Once. Sharp.

“That’s not funny.”

“I don’t joke about wills” Nonna said. Tapping the paper with one finger. “Read clause seven.”

Elena didn’t want to but she did anyway. Legal Italian. Dense. Her eyes caught the words: …conditional bequest… marriage to Matteo Rossi… ninety consecutive days… cohabitation required…

Her hands started shaking. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am” Nonna said. “Marco filed last month. Claims the house should be his. Says I’m not ‘of sound mind.’ Doctor says otherwise. But courts take time. And time, is what we don't have.”

Elena stood up too fast. Chair scraped. “So your solution is to marry me off? To him?”

“Yes” Nonna said. No apology. “He owns the dock. Marco can’t evict him if you’re married. The house stays in the family. Your family.”

“This is insane” Elena said. “You’re sick, not dead. We can fight Marco in court.”

“With what money?” Nonna said. Gentle now.

“Lawyers cost more than this house. And I’m tired, tesoro. I want to see you safe before I go.”

Elena’s chest hurt. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Someone has to” Nonna said. “Matteo’s a good man. He’ll keep his word. Ninety days. Separate rooms. Business only. Then you walk away with the house.”

Before Elena could answer, footsteps sounded on the staircase.

Matteo.

He stopped in the doorway when he saw the papers. Saw Elena’s face. Saw Nonna’s hands folded on the table like she was waiting for war.

“What’s this” he said. Not really a question.

“Clause seven” Nonna said calmly. “Read it.”

Matteo picked up the page. Read. Jaw tightened. He didn’t look at Elena once.

“No” he said. Dropped the paper. “Absolutely not.”

“Matteo..” Nonna started.

“No” he said again. Louder. “I’m not marrying anyone. Especially not her.”