Page 71 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“No,” he answers. “Though I have been to Italy. And the pizza is good. But no, it was actually at a place like this, here in New York City.”

“Really?” I ask.

“Yep. Believe it or not, my parents used to bring me to places like this,” he says and I narrow my eyes.

“No offense…but aren’t you like…old money rich?”

“None taken,” he says with a smile as he nurses his beer. “And yes. But I wasn’t always,” he says and I nod for him to go on. “So my mom was Irish. My dad was Italian. His family came here in the early 1940s to escape the war. His grandparents, my great-grandparents, left everything behind. They had a vineyard, an estate. And after the war, they were under the impression that it was destroyed.”

“That’s so sad,” I say softly.

“Except…that it wasn’t. My great-grandfather’s brother actually saw to it that it was alive and well. And when he died, my grandparents were already gone, and in the will he left the vineyard and all its profits to my father.”

“I take it that was a nice chunk of change?” I ask.

“Colline d’Oro,” he says, and it’s not ringing any bells. “Golden Hills Vineyards,” he says, and my eyes widen. Because I have heard of Golden Hills wine. Everyone who drinks wine has heard of Golden Hills wine.

“Your family-owned Golden Hills?” I blurt out and he nods.

“Owns,” he says.

“So that’s why you’re rich,” I let out, taking another bite of my pizza.

Reid snorts. “No. I’m rich because I own my own law firm and it’s wildly successful. I’m wealthy because of my inheritance. Two different things, sweetheart,” Reid says as he takes another sip of beer.

“Yeah, yeah. All I’m hearing is you having money. Cheers to you.”

Reid laughs. But then I bite my lip, thinking back to something he said earlier. “So your father was Italian and your mother was Irish.”

Reid nods.

“I don’t want to sound uneducated, but wasn’t that kind of frowned on? Especially back then.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he answers. “But my dad didn’t care. He saw my mom working at a seamstress shop and he just had to have her.”

“…had to have her…” I echo shaking my head.

“His words, not mine,” Reid chuckles. “Though I suppose it does sound like something I would say. But it was frowned upon and forbidden.”

“And yet, they stayed together,” I say.

“He pursued her, yes. At every cost.”

“That’s so romantic,” I sigh. Then I zero in on him. “How can you not believe?” I ask.

“Believe what?” Reid asks.

“In love. In romance. In marriage. How can you have parents with a story like that? And if I had to guess, died still madly in love and not believe it’s real?” I ask.

“Oh, I never said I don’t believe it exists,” he says and my mouth drops open.

“What?”

“I just don’t believe it’s likely,” he explains. “What my parents had is rare. It’s the exception. Most people will never find it. And I don’t think we should go around living in the delusion that it happens for everyone.”

“But it can,” I say. “And if it can, what’s wrong with chasing it?”

Reid doesn’t say anything else, and I don’t feel like pressing it. I’m too tired and my adrenaline is crashing, so I let it go. But I’d be lying if I said hearing about his parents, about a golden pieceof his childhood, didn’t bring a smile to my face. In fact, it almost gives me hope for him. Hope that he could eventually believe in love. Hope that he could eventually follow his heart. Hope for a lot of things.