Icurl up on the sofa with a blanket over my legs and my phone pressed to my ear. The villa is quiet right now: Riccardo is still out for his meeting, and Valerio, who came back pretending to be hungry for a snack, is somewhere upstairs acting like he’s not babysitting me.
I snort. He’s a funny guy, I’ll give him that. He’ll make some girl very happy one day.
With nothing to do but peruse Riccardo’s books—all rigorously non-fiction, with a few exceptions for historical novels as thick asWar and Peace—I fish out my phone and call my mom.
She picks up on the second ring. “Savvy! I was starting to wonder if you forgot me today.”
I smile. “Impossible. You’d hunt me down.”
“You’re damn right I would. Gotta know my baby’s doing well at her wellness retreat.”
Wellness retreat.That’s the lie I told her. I won a wellness retreat at work and they’d pay for a nurse to stay with Mom, and I really needed the break. It wasn’t all a lie—apparently, I really did need the break—but it still hurt to tell it.
Mom was ecstatic, though. Said she’d have spanked me until my cheeks turned blue if I’d even thought of turning it down. That made me feel a little better about leaving her.
You can’t take care of your mother until you take care of yourself.Riccardo’s words echo in my ear, reminding me I’ve made the right choice. The responsible choice.
I sink into the cushions and let Mom’s voice wash over me. She sounds better than she did last week. The nurse must be doing a good job. That alone makes my shoulders relax.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Oh, much better. The nurse makes me do those breathing exercises, and I swear she’s part drill sergeant.”
“That’s good,” I snort. “You need someone keeping you in check.”
“I have you for that.”
“You don’t listen to me,” I remind her.
She laughs, soft and warm. “I listen sometimes.”
We talk about normal things first—the neighbor being nosy again, how she watched a cooking competition and claimed half the dishes looked “rubbery,” and how she misses having me home in the mornings.
“So,” she says casually, “how’s the man?”
I freeze. “What man?”
“Oh, sweetheart.” She groans. “Don’t insult my intelligence. Wellness retreat? Like that restaurant of yours would ever pay its employees a dime more than minimum wage.”
I sink deeper into the couch. My cheeks are suddenly on fire. “He’s… fine.”
“Mhm. And you sound like a teenager talking about her crush.”
“He’s not my crush.”
“Uh-huh.”
I cover my face with my hand. “Mom.”
“Well? Tell me about him.”
“He’s just…” I blow out a breath. “He’s really good to me.”
“And?”
“And he’s…” I hesitate. “He’s rich.”
She pauses. “Define rich.”
