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As exquisite as the painting was, however, it paled in comparison to the cradle below it. Ryan hadn’t exaggerated. It was gorgeous. It wasn’t that the piece was fancy; in fact the design was actually very modest, but you could feel its history. The tiny nicks and dents told the story of all the Amatuccis that had slept safe in its confines. She ran her hand along the sideboard. The restorer had done a great job, polishing the olive wood to a gleaming dark brown without destroying what made it special.
“My great-grandfather built this when my grandfather was born. According to my father, it was because my great-grandmother demanded he not sleep in a drawer. Baby Amatuccis have slept in it ever since.”
Louisa tried to picture Nico as a baby with his thick dark curls. Bet he had a smile that could melt your heart.
She wondered why he hadn’t told her what he was planning. But then, why would he? No doubt the idea came to him when Marianna had announced her pregnancy. If she recalled, the two of them had hardly been friends at the time. Not like they were now.
Actually she wasn’t sure what they were to each other anymore. Did a friend lie in bed listening for the sound of footsteps in the hall, relieved yet disappointed when the steps didn’t draw near her door? Did a friend watch her friend while he worked, wondering what it might feel like to run her hands down his muscular arms? Louisa doubted it. Yet she had done both those things the past couple of days.
Then there was the fact she was continuing to stay at the vineyard. The headlines had stopped. There was little reason she shouldn’t return to the palazzo and start figuring out what she wanted to do for the future.
So how come the two of them were continuing to cohabitate as though they were a couple?
“...godparents.”
She realized Marianna was talking. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was thinking about something else.”
“Here I thought I was the one with distractions,” the brunette teased. “Please tell me you’ll pay better attention to your goddaughter.”
“G-goddaughter?” Was Marianna asking what Louisa thought she was asking?
“Ryan and I were hoping you would be Rosabella’s godmother.”
Godmother? She had to have misunderstood. In Italy, a godparent was expected to play a huge role in a child’s life. More like a second parent. And they were asking her?
That’s why they’d insisted on including her in the photograph. “Are—are you sure?” she asked. “There isn’t someone you want more?” Her brother Angelo’s wife, for example.
“Ryan and I can’t think of anyone we’d want more,” the brunette said, reaching over and resting a hand atop hers.
“But the scandal?”
“Who cares about the scandal? The scandal is what makes you so perfect. We want our daughter to grow up knowing that doing the right thing isn’t always easy, but that truly strong people find a way to make it through.”
Louisa couldn’t breathe for the lump in her throat. Marianna and Ryan...they thought her brave? Talk about ironic. She’d felt nothing but fear from the day she discovered Steven’s duplicity. “All I did was tell the authorities the truth.” And seize an opportunity to escape.
“You did more than tell the truth. You paid a price publicly. It couldn’t have been easy being destroyed by the press the way you were. That’s the kind of person I want to help guide my daughter. A woman who’s strong enough to bounce back.”
Had she really, though? Bounced back? There were still so many fears holding her back. She wasn’t sure she’d ever completely escape Steven.
Still, the invitation meant more than Marianna would ever realize. Louisa felt the tears pushing at her eyes. Seemed like all she did was tear up lately. “You just want me to give you a better baby gift,” she said, sniffing them away.
Marianna’s eyes were watery. “So is that a yes?”
“Yes!” Louisa didn’t stop to think twice. “I would be honored.”
“Perfect. I’m so happy.” The brunette clapped her hands together the way a child might when getting a special gift. “This will be perfect. You can teach Rosa how to be strong and gracious, and her godfather will teach her how to be smart and respect tradition. Along with winemaking, that is.”
Wine? “Who are you going to ask to be godfather?” she asked. As if she didn’t know. There was only one man who fit that description.
Her friend looked at her with surprise. “Nico, of course.”
Of course.
“Is that a problem?”
Only in the sense that she and Nico would be bound together for the rest of Rosa’s life. Flutters took over her insides.
