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Hand-hewn sculptures dotted the lawn in a riot of primary colors, and an overabundance of wind chimes tinkled by the front door. Giant sunflowers sprouted up the walls in splashes of yellow and green paint.
It looked like a cross between a luxury villa and a daycare center.
“Yes.” The place had Janis Russo written all over it. The front door flew open, revealing a mass of curly brown hair and a floor-length caftan. “Prepare yourself.”
“Darling!” my mother cried. “Oh, it’s so wonderful to see you! My baby boy!” She rushed toward us and embraced me in a cloud of patchouli. “Have you lost weight? Are you eating enough? Sleeping enough? Having sex enough?”
Vivian disguised her laugh with a delicate cough.
I grimaced as my mother pulled back and examined me with a critical eye. “Hello, Mother.”
“Stop. I told you to call me Janis. You’re always so formal. I blame Enzo,” she told Vivian. “His grandfather was a real stickler for the rules. You know he kicked someone out of a dinner party once for using the wrong fork? Started a whole international incident because the guest was the son of a UN ambassador. Though to be fair, you’d expect the son of a UN ambassador to know which fork is used for salads and which is used for entrées. Isn’t that right?”
Vivian blinked, seemingly stunned by the whirlwind of energy before her.
“Now, let me take a look at you.” My mother released me and placed her hands on Vivian’s shoulders. “Oh, you’rebeautiful. Isn’t she beautiful, Dante? Tell me, darling, whatdoyou use for your skin? It’s positively glowing. Argan oil? Snail mucin? La Mer…”
Vivian caught my eye over my mother’s head.Help me,her gaze begged.
My mouth tugged up in a reluctant smile.
For all my mother’s over-the-top effusiveness, she was right. Vivianwasbeautiful. Even after a twelve-hour flight, she glowed in a way that had nothing to do with her physical appearance.
A strange sensation coasted through my chest.
“Yes,” I said. “She is.”
Vivian’s eyes widened a fraction while my mother beamed harder.
We held each other’s stares for a suspended moment until my father’s voice boomed across the lawn.
“Dante!” He strode through the front door, lean and tanned in a linen shirt and shorts. “Good to see you, son.” He clapped a hand on my back before engulfing Vivian in a bear hug. “And you, my daughter-in-law! I can’t believe it! Tell me, has Dante ever taken you scuba diving?”
“Uh, no—”
“No?” His voice boomed louder. “Why the hell not? I’ve been telling him to take you diving since you got engaged! You know, we conceived Luca after—”
I cut in before my parents could embarrass themselves, and me, further.
“Leave her alone, Father. As fascinating”—scarring—”as the story of Luca’s conception is, we’d like to freshen up. It’s been a long flight.”
“Of course.” My mother fluttered around us like a jeweled hummingbird. “Come, come. We have your room all ready for you. Luca doesn’t arrive until tonight, so you have the second floor to yourselves for now.”
“So that’s your family,” Vivian said as we followed my parents into the villa. “They’re…not what I expected.”
“Don’t let their hippie facade fool you,” I said. “My father is still a Russo, and my mother used to be a management consultant. Ask them to give up their credit cards andreallyrough it and see how mellow they are.”
The airy, two-story villa was filled with natural woods, cream crochet, and bright local art adorning the walls. The backyard boasted an infinity pool and open-air yoga studio, and the four bedrooms were split half and half between the ground floor, where my parents stayed, and the upper floor.
“This is your room.” My mother flung open the door with a flourish. “We spruced it up just for you.”
Vivian’s mouth parted in shock while a migraine bloomed at the base of my skull. “Mother.”
“What?” she said innocently. “It’s not every day my son and future daughter-in-law visit for Thanksgiving! I figured you’d like a more romantic atmosphere for your stay.”
The migraine spread up my neck and behind my eyes with alarming speed.
My mother’s idea ofromanticwas my idea of a nightmare.
