The Italian

“What if she doesn’t like me?” I whisper as he takes my hand in his.

“She will, but it won’t matter if she doesn’t.” He kisses me softly. “Because I like you.”

“I thought you loved me.” I frown.

“That, too.” He smirks.

It’s Saturday morning and we are at his mother’s house. He’s brought me here to meet them. His grandmother is away this weekend. I know he’s been strategically waiting for a chance to introduce me to them when she’s not here.

Hand in hand we walk up the front steps and as I hold my breath, he opens the door.

A beautiful woman comes into view. I remember her from the ball before Enrico and I got back together. She has long dark hair that’s perfectly styled. She’s wearing a black fitted dress with high heels. Not exactly what I would call Saturday loungewear.

She looks like some exotic Italian movie star, so glamourous and beautiful. Knowing her history, I was expecting a mousy woman of some sort, but this woman is a knockout.

“Hello, my son,” she says, her voice is soft, hushed and her accent is beautiful.

She kisses Enrico on both cheeks.

Enrico’s eyes come to me and he smiles proudly. “Mam

ma, please meet my Olivia and Olivia, may I present my mother, Bianca Ferrara.”

She smiles and holds out her hand. “Hello, Olivia. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Hello.” I smile as I shake her hand, nerves tumble in my stomach, I feel like I’m about to swallow my tongue. “So, lovely to meet you, too.”

Enrico turns to the girl who has just appeared beside his mother. “And this is my pride and joy, Francesca.” He presents a young girl, his only sister. She’s young, beautiful in a crème tracksuit, she has long thick dark hair and the most unusual colored eyes I’ve ever seen. She looks like a fashion model.

Bianca holds her arm out in a welcoming gesture. “Please, do come in.” She turns and walks down the hall as if it’s a catwalk and I widen my eyes at Enrico. He smiles playfully and squeezes my hand. I’m glad he thinks this is so amusing, I’m beyond terrified.

We walk through the grand palace and out into the back area, the house is as big as Enrico’s but it has more antiques in it. It feels more formal and less house like. “Just out to the terrace.” She smiles as she gestures outside.

Enrico leads me through and past a beautiful white kitchen and out through concertina doors to a mosaic terrace that overlooks a huge pool. The house sits high and rolling green hills can be seen for miles, my mouth falls open in awe. “Oh my gosh, this is beautiful out here,” I gasp.

Bianca smiles as she looks around. “It is.” She takes a seat at the table and Enrico pulls out a chair for me. “We take it for granted sometimes.”

A young woman appears from the house wearing a traditional white maids uniform. “Marcella, puoi portarmi un caffé, per favore?” Translation: Marcella, can you bring some coffee and tea please?

The young woman’s eyes flick to Enrico and she nods her head nervously in a greeting. “Buongiorno, signor Ferrara.” Translation: hello Mr. Ferrara.

Enrico gives her a slow smile as he leans back on his chair. “Ciao, Marcella! È bello vederti.” Translation: Hello Marcella, it’s good to see you.

Marcella blushes and tips her head bashfully, she can’t hide her excitement that he addressed her, she rushes inside.

Ha…so his mother’s staff think he’s a bit of alright, do they? I look at him sitting there, legs wide and back straight, all confident and gorgeous…can’t say I blame them to be honest.

My eyes float over to my flirty boyfriend and I raise an eyebrow.

He smirks with a wink in reply.

“Enrico behave, stop encouraging her,” Bianca scolds.

He holds up his hands. “I said hello.”

I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling at his mother’s comment.

Bianca turns her attention to me. “How are you liking Italy, Olivia?”