Life As A Work Of Art
CHIARA
I lookaround at the smiling faces of all the people I call family, whether by blood or by choice. My cousins AJ, Christian and Matteo, my in-laws Patrick and Sienna, Seb and Luca, Sophia and Marco, Marco’s parents Samuel and Elena, my girls, Evie, Stella, Juliette, and Mia now that we’ve reconnected, and of course Avery, my rock and friend in so many times of need. I’m so sad Arabella’s missing from today’s celebrations, but I understand her reasons.
I can’t believe how much my life has changed in less than a year. I never in my wildest fantasies imagined I would be living my dream life in New York, working as a photographer, married and pregnant with twins. Sometimes, like earlier today, fear worms its way into my psyche, convincing me any moment now something terrible will happen and it will all be gone. Once it would have sent me into a panic, but I’ve gotten better at talking to Raf about my fears and safeguarding my mind with strategies my therapist has put in place. I also aim for weekly check-inswith her—sometimes it’s just a call or a message, but at least once a month I go in and see her for a longer session.
“Chiara, I want the recipe for these rice balls and that blood orange and fennel salad,” Sophia says, sidling over to where I’m preparing the table for the cakes I’m going to bring out for our pregnancy announcement and gender reveal. “They were absolutely delicious!”
“I see how it is,” adds Stella, who’s coming back from getting a refill. “You get married and we move on from swapping cocktail recipes to dinner recipes.” She takes a sip of her wine and adds, “I don’t mind, more cock-tailing for me.”
“Tail that cock—you’re almost the last one standing,” I say with a laugh, causing her to snort, before I answer my sister-in-law.
“Of course, no problem! I found some of my mom’s old recipe books when I was showing Raf pictures and memorabilia from my life back in Italy.” I feel my throat grow tight. It’s hard not to get emotional—even more so now—when I think about all the milestones I won’t get to share with my parents, which is why I always try to include them in some way into every celebration or important event.
“They would be so proud of you,” says Sophia, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into her. “You’re doing it, girl. Living the life you always wanted despite the roadblocks life put up. And my brother? Chiara, I honestly don’t think I’ve seen that man as lit up and content in my entire life. You’ve made his life worth more than the accolades and the labels. You’ve given him true meaning.”
“Oh my God! Please stop. I’m going to?—”
“Chiara, what’s the matter?” asks Evie, looking me over to see if I’m hurt. She walked over to bring a plate of ricotta cannoli to the table, Seb inevitably in tow because he’s been even more obsessed since our wedding—I suspect my cousin Christian’sevident attraction to my blonde bombshell bestie has something to do with it.
He rears his head at me. “Are you crying again?”
“Seb!” Evie says smacking him playfully on his arm. “You should know better than to put people on the spot.”
“Sometimes it’s the only way,” he says flashing her a devious smile that makes her flush, before he backtracks. “I’ve just noticed her tear up a few times today and I’m worried she’s realized she chose the wrong brother and is regretting marrying Raf.”
This makes us all laugh and helps to curb the onslaught of more tears at all their reactions. I’m a hot mess, and the sooner I can provide the real explanation, the better.
“No regrets. I love that man—and reminding him how lucky an old man like him is to have me as his younger, hot wife,” I say.
“You tell him!” Seb cheers, smiling broadly while the girls giggle.
“I’m just going to go grab a few other things from the kitchen. I’ll be back.”
I open the fridge and pull out the large box with the two small cakes in there.
“Okay, spill,” hisses a voice next to me.
I jump, nearly dropping the box.
“Luca!” I hiss back, unsure why I’m whispering.
He takes the box from me and puts it on the kitchen island before leaning his hip against it and crossing his arms and his ankles.
“Something’s going on,” he says, squinting his eyes at me like he’s trying to see the lies.
“What do you mean?” I ask, going along with him.
“I refuse to be the last person to know again. When you were you-know-on-the-day-we-won’t-talk-about, and then finding out that you and Raf secretly got married—and got matchingtattoos!” he crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his head to the side. “Which I might add, I either predicted or put him up to, without any credit. Not to mention you look so, so, so…like the sun ate the moon!”
“Luca. Are you trying to tell me I look like I have a big round face?” I say, mortified, sucking my cheeks in.
“No! I’m saying you look fucking radiant. And my brother is smiling with his teeth.His teeth,Chiara, while letting us drink the best scotch he owns and offering us cigars.”
Hmmm,I think at the mention of cigars,that was a fun night, when we realized nothing about us being married was pretend. We didn’t want to live without each other, and there was no point fighting the pull to be together.
“Now, two things,” continues Luca. “That fucker hasn’t smiled like that for, like…maybe ever, and he never shares his good scotch and cigars.”
