Aside from his daughter, his sister was all he could think of. Eight days in Italy, in a different continent, had done very little to alter that. Her wedding day was drawing nigh, agonizing him a bit more with each passing day, and there was nothing he could do but to suffer in silence. In just over a month, he would be in her wedding and would see her binding her life to another.
"... and then Nonno Antonio and I had gelato, and Nonna Francesca yelled at Papi again. I don't like it when she's angry with you, Papi."
Michela was perched in Alice's lap, recounting meaningful events of their visit to Italy to a riveted crowd.
"Why was her grandmother angry with you?" Alice asked.
"She wasn't angry," Oliver was quick to dismiss. "Michela is just very sensitive, that's all."
"She was too!
