The truth sits heavy and unavoidable.
I purse my lips and nod. "Pathetic, right? I'm chasing after a husband who…" I'm tired of mentioning his mistress even to myself, so I don't.
"Stop it." She puts her hand on mine. "Don't talk about yourself like that. You married Nico in good faith, Alessia. You have a right to expect a marriage."
Like my sisters, Lucia doesn't judge me.
She shifts, suddenly thoughtful. "Does he know how much he matters to you?"
"Does he?"
Lucia makes a face. "Yes, Alessia, he does."
"I don't even know him."
"But you're married and whether you like it or not, whether he likes it or not?—"
"He definitely doesn't," I interject.
"Whether he likes it or not," she continues with an arched brow, "you're both now connected, and that isn't just a piece of legal paper; it's emotional as well."
I only partly agree with her.
I do feel a connection—which is why I hungrily follow his face around social media even though I don't have time for such nonsense. I mean, I don't even have a personal account, and yet I created a fake one so I could go on the platforms and see what he's up to. Stupid of me because all it's done is made me sad.
Right after our engagement, he was seen with several other women. Some old girlfriends and some new acquaintances. Models. Actors. Musicians. Socialites. None of them looked like me—plain, dull, simple. They were all glamorous. I knew then I couldn't compete.
A few months before the wedding, Chiara started to be seen on his arm regularly, and now, essentially, he's hardly ever photographed without her.
It hurts not just my ego but also my heart.
Is there really no chance for us to have a normal marriage? One where we become partners and lovers? Where we're on the same team and take care of one another?
I don't pretend Nico's ever going to love me or even remain loyal—not when he looks the way he does and attracts women the way he does—but maybe I could share.But even as I think it, I know I can't. I couldn't live that kind of half-life where you watch your husband and the father of your children leave you to be intimate with another woman on a daily basis.
So…where does that leave me? Am I going to be alone for the rest of my life? My sisters will marry—and I'll just be Nico Alarico's unwanted wife.
"Can we not talk about him?" I request.
A flicker of compassion crosses Lucia's face. "What do you think about watchingWuthering Heights? It's now on iTunes."
I laugh out loud. "Yeah, I think I'm in the mood for a tragic romance."
PART II
VERAISON
There is a moment when the fruit finally turns toward sweetness. It’s fragile then—easily bruised, easily ruined—but it is also the first time you can imagine what it might become.
— From the notes of Alessia Alighieri
8
NICO
Of all the Alighieri estates, Tenuta Pietra Alta is the humblest.
There’s no grand gate, no marble declaration of power. The estate rises out of the land as if it was always meant to be here—stone buildings softened by age, vines running in disciplined lines across hills that slope gently toward the sea. The air smells of dust and sap and salt carried inland on a tired breeze.
