Page 33 of Do-Over with my Ex

If I did decide to stick it to Lorenzo and arrive at the camping grounds, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone like Anna there with me. She may have been middle class but I liked her more than most people in my own circles. She was the type of woman I could be in a different life—determined, hardworking, serious about reaching her goals despite the odds.

“The whole thing is stupid,” I finally said.

I glanced at Anna.

“Where is it?”

“The camp?” A smile broke over her face. “In Oregon. It’s a great break away from the city, and a few days in the mountains is so great. Trust me, you won’t regret it if you do decide to go.”

“I think I might,” I said. “Forest, nature, out in the wild… it’s the stuff I like to watch in a movie while I sit at home warm and cozy with a glass of wine.”

Anna laughed.

We ordered food, and as if Wesley smelled it, he appeared just as the food arrived. We sat together and ate burgers and chips—I’d ordered the only salad they offered—and I listened to how Wesley and Anna chatted to each other. He was a quiet kid, withdrawn, but he was warm and sweet when he crawled out of his shell, and it was clear he was Anna’s world.

I wondered what that was like—to have something so serious to fight for, to have something worth all the sacrifices.

10

LORENZO

Iwasintrouble.On the one hand, I felt good about myself that Celine was starting to open up to me. Sure, I had to handle her with gloves because she had claws and wasn’t scared to scratch, but she would always be like that, and I loved a challenge.

On the other hand, I felt like I was playing with fire. She wasn’t Italian, and it was a family tradition to stick to our heritage, our bloodline.

When I’d joined the Forger family way back then in college, I’d thought they were all so fucking stuck-up snobs for having their closed little circle, their stupid Cavaliers club and their traditions.

I’d figured I was different, open-minded, more worldly. They had all the money, but I’d felt like I was bigger, better,richerbecause I was willing to experience the world for what it was rather than what they forced it to be.

I was wrong. It turned out my family and our traditions, our bloodlines and heritage, was just as stuck-up and closed-minded as theirs. It just looked different from the inside out, rather than looking from the outside in.

“Hey,” Gino said when he found me in the wine cellars, going through the different barrels for the different years. “What are you doing?”

“Taking stock,” I said.

“We took stock a few weeks ago.”

“It doesn’t hurt to do it again.”

I liked being down here in the wine cellar. I loved the smell of the wooden barrels, the damp darkness under the family house and the way it drove away the silence, and with it, my noisy thoughts. Sometimes, getting out of the house was the way to go when I wanted to get away. Sometimes, I turned inward.

“What’s eating you?” Gino asked, leaning his elbows on one of the large barrels.

“Nothing’s eating me, I’m working,” I said.

Gino raised his eyebrows. “This is a little beneath your pay grade, no?”

I shrugged. “It’s humbling to do the grunt work sometimes.”

“Just tell me what’s fucking you up, man,” Gino said.

I sighed. My brother was a pain in the ass but he always knew how to read me and he was like a Pitbull, not letting go until he’d found his answers when it came down to it.

“Do you think our views and opinions will change over time?” I asked.

Gino frowned. “What views and opinions?”

“Notours, our family’s. You know, the whole ‘marrying an Italian’ thing.”