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“My mother got cancer when I was 12,” Dario said solemnly. “She underwent chemotherapy, and the cancer went into remission for years… but she couldn’t have any more children. Then it came back, more aggressive than before. She died a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry. I know how that feels.”
“Do you,” Dario said darkly, like I had no fucking clue.
“My mother was diagnosed with cancer when I was in the military, right when I deployed overseas,” I said quietly. “A couple months later, my Aunt Ingrid was driving her back home from chemotherapy when they got into a car accident. They both died… and I didn’t even get to go to their funerals.”
Dario stared at me in horror. “I’m truly sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so I said, “If your father had married your mother earlier, he might not have had you and your brothers. Or at least, you wouldn’t have turned out the same.”
Dario knew I was trying to lighten the mood, and he obliged.
“Sperma diverso,” he said drily.
Different sperm.
“Exactly.”
Dario laughed. “What Papa doesn’t say is that no matter what age he would have liked to have gotten married, he didn’t meet my mother until he was in his late 20s – and he wouldn’t have changed a single thing. My mother was his life – his entire world. He never so much as looked at another woman after she passed. I think what he really means when he tells us to get married early is that he wishes he could have had more time with her. He’d have given anything for that.” Dario chuckled. “Plus, he wants grandchildren as soon as possible.”
“Would you marry any of the women you dated?” I asked.
“Fuck no. They were fine for having fun, but they would have made terrible wives – and even worse mothers.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“And that’s on me,” he conceded. “I’m the one responsible for wasting my time with them. The folly of a misspent youth.”
“So what kind of a woman do you want?”
“That’s the problem. I come from a… certain amount of money.”
“I gathered as much,” I said in a deadpan voice.
Dario laughed, then shook his head. “It’s not just money, but power. The problem with the women I chased was they all wanted the money and the power. They didn’t really want me.”
“That seems a little…” I said, then paused because I didn’t know the Italian word I was searching for.
“What?” he asked. He sounded offended.
“You’re a very good-looking guy. I can’t imagine a woman not wanting you.”
“Okay, yes, it’s true, they wanted to fuck me… but what they really wanted was what they could get from me.”
“Didn’t you want them because of what you could get from them, too?”
“Calling me out on all my shit, aren’t you?” he said good-naturedly. “Yes, I did. I went after models with big tits and great asses. When I should have been looking for a woman I could build a life with.”
“So what does that kind of woman look like?”
Dario peered at the wall like he had slipped into a daydream. “Someone innocent… kind… loyal. A girl who loves her family and would do anything for them… because in the end, it’s all about family.”
“But one who’s still beautiful,” I said sardonically.
Dario laughed. “True. I do still want a pretty wife… someone who makes my blood run hot.” He shook his head ruefully. “But I’ve probably ruined myself with all the women I chased after in the past.”
“Sounds like you have a Madonna/whore complex.”
