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Music is playing quietly in the courtyard. Lights are strung above us. Nonna and Giana are carrying dishes to the table. They must’ve spent all afternoon preparing this celebratory meal. I’m not sure I can eat another bite.

Until I do.

They serve tortellini stuffed with pork in a meat broth, a creamy risotto, fried polenta, and focaccia bread lightly brushed with olive oil. Every single dish is delicious. My appetite returns with a vengeance. There’s no way I’m missing this meal just because my stomach is shouting it’s full.

As we sit at the dinner table with everyone talking over each other and eating heartily, I find myself wishing we could stay here forever. I’m living in a Norman Rockwell painting—in Italy. My chest burns with happiness.

After dinner, everyone dances to the music, laughing and singing along. Matteo pulls me onto the dance floor. “I dance with beautiful Marin, Slade.” He twirls me around the courtyard as the family cheers and claps for us.

Oh my, Slade’s father is charming. I’ve heard rumors about Italian men and their dangerous charm. I guess I fell victim to it. Slade has it in spades. Now I see where he gets it. It’s in his blood.

When it’s time to leave, Matteo promises to pick us up tomorrow morning at our hotel for sightseeing.

As we leave, the entire family stands in the doorway, waving and saying, “Ciao,” the word that’s both hello and goodbye. We also hear “Arrivederci!” and “Buonanotte.”

Slade and I cross over the bridge, stopping on the other side to turn and wave.

Slade chuckles. “Something tells me they won’t stop waving until we’re out of sight.”

We keep walking until they can no longer see us. With an abruptness that takes me by surprise, Slade takes me in his arms and hugs me tight. The intensity of his embrace reveals his emotions. As do the tears moistening his cheeks. We’re both like waterfalls today.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve cried since I was ten.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “Today got to me.”

I’ve never seen my father cry. I certainly never saw Blu cry. I find Slade’s emotion over his new family endearing. Whoever decided it’s not okay for men to cry did a great disservice to all men everywhere. They’re men, but they’re human too.

I wipe the tears from his face. “I’m not bothered. The way they welcomed you was incredible. You’d have to be made of stone to not feel any emotion.”

“To be honest, I’m still in shock.” He buries his face in the side of my neck. “Thank you for being with me today. I loved having you by my side. The entire day was…I don’t know what to say. I’m overwhelmed.”

“I loved witnessing you meet your family. It’s an experience I’ll never forget. Thank you for including me.” I rub his back.

“Communication was a little bit difficult at times. All things considered, we did pretty darn good.” He backs up. Now we’re only connected by our hands.

“We did. Let’s go back to our hotel. It’s been a day.” I give his hands a quick squeeze.

“Understatement,” he says with a serene smile. “Not to mention, Mom has messaged me about two hundred times.”

“Are you serious?” Actually, I’m not terribly surprised.

“I kept glancing at the messages just to make sure everything was all right. I didn’t want to be rude and ignore everyone while messaging her back. You know what practically every message was about?”

“Let me guess. Matteo, Matteo, and Matteo? Your mother is still obsessed with him, isn’t she?” I lean in and give Slade a quick peck on the lips.

“Yes. I think she still loves him.” Slade shrugs. “Actually, I don’t think her love for him ever went away to begin with.”

“At the risk of sounding like a psychiatrist, how do you feel about that?” I give him a traditional Italian kiss on the left cheek and then the right cheek.

“I’m not sure.” Slade masks a quick frown. “Matteo couldn’t stop asking me questions about her either. He wanted to know everything about her life. He also had a lot of questions about the father who raised me as his own. He was impressed a man would raise a son who wasn’t his. My thoughts turned to my father—the one who raised me—quite a bit today.”

“You’re not betraying him,” I remind him. “We all know how much you love him.” I refuse to say loved. Slade’s father has passed, but Slade’s love is ever-present.

“Yeah, I know you’re right. Crazy emotions today. Matteo wanted to know all about my life as well, every little thing. He asked me to leave nothing out. But the conversation always circled back to my mother. Every time.”

“Interesting. They’re both single now,” I comment.

Slade lets go of my hands, holding his hands up in the air. “I’m not getting involved, and I’m not playing matchmaker. That’s up to them.”

“Smart move. Let’s get outta here. After we update your mom, I want some alone time with you.” I tuck my arm into his, and we start walking.

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