“Be careful what you wish for, son.”
Chapter 7
Camillo Vicari
August, 2013
28 years old
Castello dell’Fiero, Calabria, Italy
Twelve years ago
Madonna…
Valentina Messina looked like the spitting image of a saint. She wore her thick hair loose like a veil, falling to her waist in a cascade of curls, and her sinuous curves were wrapped in a short white dress covered in sequins and fringes. Every movement of her long legs made her dress rustle, as if she was performing a slow dance.
I smirked the moment I noticed her toes peeking through the simple high-heeled sandals, realizing she painted her nails hot pink. The color my mother hated most in the world.
Ah, yes. My married life was going to be quite interesting.
“Tesoro,” I murmured, greeting her with a kiss on the lips. “Stai bellissima.”
She flashed her huge, immaculate smile, and my knees went weak.
“I return the compliment,” she replied, smoothing the lapel of my midnight-blue blazer. “Armani?”
“I promised I would dress to the nines.”
She nodded, a touch of pride in her manner, and turned around, motioning for her parents to come over, who had just greeted my entire famiglia, from Uncle Ricardo to Grandma Renata.
“Concetta. Cesare,” I said politely, greeting my future in-laws. As usual, I received an effusive hug from each of them.
I liked the Messina couple for the precise reason my mother couldn't trust them or Valentina. They were people with a simple, seemingly perfect life. They followed common moral values and separated right from wrong with absurd simplicity. And that, sometimes, could be refreshing.
“Camillo, everything looks beautiful! If I had known it was going to be so extravagant, I would have bought a new suit for the occasion!”
“Nonsense, Cesare. You look great! It's just aspecialdinner.” I said and winked knowingly at my future father-in-law, whose eyebrows immediately shot up to his hairline. Which was saying a lot, because Professor Cesare was balder than an egg.
“Ohhhh. A ‘special dinner’. Sounds good to me!”
“Let's go in then!”
The dinner started pleasantly, with jazz playing in the background to lighten the mood and my father and uncle socializing with Professor Cesare and his wife. Nonna and Nonno also chimed in from time to time, adding nostalgic stories about the famiglia Vicari to the conversation, while my brother and cousin livened things up with their bawdy jokes. However, my mother...
Nonno sat at the head of the table, directly under the painting of Giuseppe and Rosa. To his right were Nonna Renata, with her fluffy white curls and cheeks flushed from wine, and ZioRicardo, Zia Giovanna, and my cousin Lorenzo, followed immediately by Valentina, sitting right in front of me, and Cesare and Concetta. To his left were my father, my mother, my brother Mario, and me. But even with the seating arrangement deliberately organized to prevent tensions from escalating, my mother's silence was palpable.
I followed Zia Giovanna's worried gaze and realized that Mamusia wasn't looking up from her plate, breaking apart a sushi roll with her fork and sighing every time Professor Cesare or his wife spoke. I immediately grabbed the glass of white wine, downing it in one gulp.
Ineededthat dinner to go well.
The conversations continued, and Valentina and I decided to share with everyone some of the plans we had made regarding our future. Thanks to the LL.M. in U.S. Law she completed withhonors at the University of Mississippi—the famous Ole Miss—she was offered a position as Assistant District Attorney, which required her to relocate to Jackson, the capital of Mississippi. And that was what we were planning to do. Move to the United States as soon as we could.
Upon hearing the news, Valentina's parents were delighted with the idea of their daughter holding an important position in a country such as the United States of America. However, there was a certain restraint from my famiglia. They tried to appear enthusiastic, even congratulating Valentina, but the scowl on Nonno Patrizio's face was enough for me to understand that he was not pleased with the news.
“Does that mean I'll have American nephews one day?” my brother joked, but I could also hear the apprehension in his voice as well.
Valentina laughed. “Ifyou have nephews, I guess so!”