Page 97 of The Honest Affair

“Rosina?” I completed for her as surprised relief flooded through me. “Yes, I do.”

I gave her my phone, and she didn’t ask me anything more, just wandered outside to a bench near the paddocks. And there she sat, looking at all the pictures Giuseppe’s daughters had sent over the past few months after I had helped them pay their farm’s taxes, and then with some help from Eric, invested a bit in the replanting of olive trees. Olivia kept looking at one in particular—the two older girls in front of a row of saplings. Their arms were draped over each other’s shoulders, and they were toppling over, open-mouthed and bent forward mid-laugh. Their joy sprang off the screen, and Olivia whispered their names to herself again and again. Sometime later, I heard “my sisters” float on the wind out to sea, like she was sending a message to them herself.

* * *

“It went as wellas it could have,” I said after describing the basic events. “It was never going to be easy, breaking my own daughter’s heart.”

The table was silent as I finished the story. Jane sighed and looked at Eric, who was tight-lipped, brow furrowed. They all cared about Olivia, and I was glad for it. But it would be a long time before my sweet girl learned to trust me or anyone else again. I was under no illusions otherwise.

This time, Matthew didn’t hold back. He reached into my lap and took my hand purposefully, daring me to pull away. I did not. And when Jane and Eric changed the subject to something more neutral, I let him keep it there until we were finished eating and both of us stood to clear the dishes.

“Walk me out?” he asked after we had finished, and Jane and Eric were making their excuses to go upstairs for a “nap.” In her defense, Jane did look particularly tired.

I followed Matthew out to the street, but when he leaned in for a kiss, I stepped back as I caught a ruffle in the curtains by the door.

“I adore Jane,” I said, nodding at the house. “But remember, she’s not particularly discreet.”

Matthew snorted as he looked back at the window himself. “That she is not. Somehow Jane missed the stage of life where everyone else got a filter.” He sighed heavily and rubbed a rough hand over his face. “I hate this.”

“I know,” I said, dying to reach out and brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “But we have to wait.”

“Sure, duchess. We have to wait.” He exhaled heavily. “I’ll call you when I’m home, all right? I love you.”

Before I could answer, he turned in the direction of the subway, where a train would whisk him downtown to work, and then on home to Brooklyn in the wee hours of the morning. But suddenly, he turned back.

“I don’t want to wait with everyone,” he said suddenly.

I frowned. “Matthew, I thought we talked about this.”

“We did. I understand why we can’t tell your family yet. But I want to tell mine.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a sign of frustration I was beginning to recognize. It usually appeared when he was putting together words but couldn’t come up with the perfect execution. “I want to tell my grandmother, Nina. My sisters. When you get engaged to someone, they’re supposed to meet your family. They’re supposed to get to know them. Mine has only met you once. Even Frankie doesn’t know you’ve been coming around.”

His eyes looked pained, and it was then I realized this was such a key difference between us. For me, family was less of a buttress to my life and more of a cage. They were supportive monetarily, but for the most part my family were obstacles to overcome, people who thwarted my dreams more often than they helped. For Matthew, his family was the cornerstone of life, its stability hard won and even more thoroughly defended. The relationship he had with his sisters and grandmother was truly his raison d’être. Which meant that until they knew what we were to one another, my place in his life wouldn’t be real. Not to him. Or really, to me.

With another glance at the window to make sure Jane wasn’t watching, I reached out and squeezed Matthew’s hand. “All right.”

After all, with any luck, I’d be out of this marriage within a week or two.

Matthew blinked. “All right?”

I nodded, grinning at the sudden light that shone from his handsome face. “When would you like to do it?”

“How about Sunday?”

“Sunday?” Sunday was only a few days away. And the day after that was the gala. Things were moving faster than I thought.

Matthew nodded. “We’ll join them for midday Mass and then go to my grandmother’s for dinner. We can tell them then.”

My palms felt clammy. This was new. Calvin had never had family to impress, and even then, the stakes were so much different. Would Matthew’s family be accepting of me and all my terrible flaws?

But his grin was blinding, and even through my trepidation, I knew this was the right thing to do.

“All right,” I said. “Sunday.”