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Grandma Moretti sighed again. “And when I’m gone? When there’s no one to put you first? I’m old, Clary.” She put the wine glass down. “I want to know I left you in the best possible hands to take care of you.”
“No one can really know that, can’t they?”
“I know. I knew your Grandpa Moretti would love me to his very last breath.”
Clary pursed her lips. “I want to confidently tell you the same, but I can’t. Not because I don’t trust him, but it’s just … the world these days is very different.”
Grandma Moretti nudged the ravioli toward her. “Then you should see if he’s at least on the same page as you.”
“I think we are.” She sucked in a breath. “It’s just that everything is so new, and the pragmatic side of me can’t tell if I’m just in a love fog or if it’s really love.”
“Honey, the love fog brings you together. But real love is in the choices we make every day. Jesus chose to lay down His life for you. That’s love. He chose to do it. Today, you’re choosing Seth. Maybe it’s the love fog.” Grandma Moretti shrugged. “But if you decide to be with him, then you’ll have to choose to choose him even when you don’t feel like it.”
Clary savored the cheesy spinach ravioli and the buttery flavor of the cream sauce while her gaze roamed across her grandmother’s face. “Did you ever have to choose to choose Grandpa Moretti even when you didn’t feel like it?”
“So many times, dear. So many times.”
“Choose to choose him,” Clary mumbled. “That seems doable.”
“Until you feel like murdering him.” Grandma Moretti waved it off while Clary laughed. “Back to my question. When I’m gone, and there’s no one to put you first, will you still be okay with always choosing him when he can’t choose you?”
“You’re going to live forever, but no matter what, I will have had you. Seth never had anyone put him first.”
Grandma Moretti’s gaze softened, and her head tipped to the side as her brows puckered, deepening the creases on her forehead. “This is what worries me, you know. It’s what I—what May and Edward—love about you, but it’s also what worries me.”
May—Mrs. E. Thinking about Mrs. E or her parents or Grandpa Moretti always made her a little sad.
“You always have this heart to protect other people’s hearts,” Grandma Moretti continued.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, except when you keep choosing to see the bright side of things or excuse the actions of cruel people. Hurt people hurt, Clary. And the Andersons were hurt—badly.”
“Someone once told me about a pair of twins who grew up in an alcoholic family.” Clary smiled when Grandma Moretti rolled her eyes again. “One grew up alcoholic but the other never touched a drop of liquor.”
“When I get to heaven, I’m going to make sure I sit May down to listen to all the complaints I have about all the stories she told you.”
Clary laughed again.
They fell silent, then spent the next few minutes eating and talking about Mrs. E and her parents.
When the food was gone and silence fell once again, Clary sucked in a breath and said, “I really love him, Nonna.”
Her grandmother stared at her without a word. Her wise eyes bored into Clary’s as if she was looking into her soul, as if she was searching Clary’s heart to determine how serious she was. “All right,” she eventually said, and Clary released the breath she’d held. “You have temporary approval for your relationship.”
“Temporary?”
Grandma Moretti nodded. “That’s the best you’re getting.”
“Fine.” She stood and was about to help clear the plates when Grandma Moretti swatted her hand.
“I got this. You go back to work.”
“I have—”
“Just go.” Grandma Moretti grabbed the wine glasses. “Oh,” she said as she walked into the kitchen. “Edward and I never told you this, but May left this mansion to you. It’s been in your name since she passed away.”
“What?”
