Page 89 of Do-Over with my Ex

“Tell me, what is it like in the States?” Dad asked when we stood in the small wine cellar. It was only partially filled with casks, a bad yield after the season, in my opinion.

“It’s very different from here,” I said.

“Are you sick of the Americans and their extravagance yet?”

I laughed. “Extravagance?”

“I will never understand those people.”

“What’s wrong with them?” I asked, confused. I’d thought the Americans were great. The States had become my home,thosepeople had becomemypeople.

“They’re… you know,” Dad said and waved his hand.

I shook my head. I really didn’t know, but Dad changed the topic.

“So, not married yet, eh?”

My mind immediately jumped to Celine.

“No.”

“Good. You’ll find someone here, a good wife who will give you children.”

“I don’t know if that’s what I want,” I said.

Dad froze. “What? You don’t want a wife?”

“I don’t know what I want,” I admitted. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Of course it’s that simple!” Dad cried out. “You find a good wife who can—”

“What’s a good wife?” I asked.

“Someone who can give you children,” Dad said immediately.

I sighed. My dad had always been two-dimensional. I loved the man but I’d wanted to leave here for a reason, and now I realized why. My dad was a wonderful man. He’d done what he could to give us the life he thought we would want, and he’d let us go when it had turned out it wasn’t what we needed. He’d never hurt us, he’d never broken us down. He’d done what a good father should do.

I just didn’t see the world through his eyes, and the life he’d chosen wasn’t the life I wanted.

“Come, let’s hear what you think about my wine selection, eh?” Dad said with a grin. “All this talk about women makes me thirsty. Come, taste this season’s wine. I’m proud of it, and you will be too, I know.”

I nodded and let my dad pour me a glass of wine from one of the casks. I watched as he took pride in his work, even if it wasn’t what I would have taken pride in. He’d chosen a life, and he lived it with all his might, living with the courage of his conviction.

That was my problem, I realized when I sipped the wine. It had a bitter aftertaste, but my dad drank it all and poured more. I didn’t have the courage of my conviction because I didn’t know what the hell that was. What did I want? What did I believe in? How did I envision my life moving forward?

Family was important to me—now more than ever—but family wasn’t everything. Family didn’t grow without bringing the outside world into it, and when I thought about a wife, about a future… all I could think about was Celine.

Fuck, I missed her. Every fiber of my being ached for her. I felt like a part of me was missing.

My mom was just as happy to see me as my dad was, and she made a four-course meal for me that night. We ate like kings. I knew this wasn’t how they usually did it, but my mom’s love language was food. We ate until my dad was so full he couldn’t move, and my mom started doing the dishes with a satisfied smile on her face.

“Here,” I said, picking up a dishcloth so I could dry the dishes she washed. They didn’t have staff in the house the way Zia Luana had. Mom did it all herself.

Dad started snoring where he’d fallen asleep at the kitchen table.

Mom laughed. “Don’t do that, Lorenzo, you are my guest.”

“Nonsense,” I said and took a plate from her, drying it. “We all work together, right?”

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