Page 14 of Que Será, Syrah

Jake’s parents owned the vineyard right next door, and they were real parents. Unlike some other people I could name who were too busy getting themselves killed in a freak sailboat accident or running off to Italy with the guy they might have been (definitely was) cheating with to actually be there for their daughters when they needed them.

Which sounds unfair, I know; but as a kid, that’s how it felt. And who knows how much of it was true? I heard the Wrights sold their place, recently, and moved away. Which—yay for us—meant Jake was free to lend a hand at Caparelli this summer, but which probably sucked for him.

There is one good thing about this room, however; it doesn’t encourage laziness. I’m not inspired to lie in bed and reminisce, which I’m especially grateful for this morning. I was too tired last night to go over all my plans for Caparelli’s future with my sisters, but there’s no time like the present (or so they say—I can’t honestly say I’ve ever noticed it making a difference) so I jump out of bed, wash and dress and head downstairs.

The first person I see when I enter the kitchen is the last person I’m expecting. Jake is standing at the counter, pouring coffee into an insulated thermos. “Omigod, Jake!” I rush over and give him a hug. “I can’t believe you’re still here. I thought I’d missed you.”

“Hey there, Legs,” he says as he hugs me back. “It’s good to see you, too. I hear you had some excitement last night.”

“Oh, let’s not talk about that.” I wave my hands dismissively. “I like the beard, by the way. But how are you still here? I figured you’d bail at the earliest opportunity. Which reminds me, where are you staying? I didn’t kick you out of my room, did I?”

“I uh…” He glances at Rosa who comes to stand beside him.

“You didn’t kick him out,” my sister says, and I feel my eyes bug out as she slips her hand in Jake’s. “We’re in Nonna’s old room. I hope you don’t mind. But neither you nor Bee were here, and with two of us?—”

“You’re back together?” I’m so excited, I’m practically squealing. “Really? That’s so great!”

“Wait’ll you hear the rest of the story,” Bianca says, from the breakfast table where she’s finishing a bowl of yoghurt, berries, and granola.

“The rest?” I turn back to Rosa, very much not reassured by the blush on her cheeks. “What does she mean?”

“Well, y’see, Jake and I got married right after?—”

“You what?” I want to believe that I sound happy for them, but judging by the expressions on both their faces, I haven’t fooled anyone. I can’t believe they didn’t include me. My usual feeling of not really belonging, of always existing on the periphery of everyone else’s life crashes over me. “Married? This summer? Without telling me?” What the actual fuck?

“No. That’s not— ” Rosa says, shooting an annoyed glance at Bianca, who’s carried her dishes to the sink.

Bianca smiles back at her. “Don’t look at me like that. You know I reacted pretty much the same way when I found out.”

Jake nods. “And that was still better than your uncle’s reaction.”

“Geno knows, too?” I glare at Jake. This is just getting better and better. “Are you saying I’m the last person to find out about this?”

Rosa sighs. “Legs, it’s not what you think. D’you remember when Jake and I went off on our high school graduation trip?”

“The one where you guys broke up? Of course, I remember.” I remember how much I’d hated that. Because if Rosa and Jake, who anyone could see were made for each other, couldn’t stay together, what hope was there for the rest of us?

“Yes. Well, we kind of made a detour,” Rosa says now. “We went to Vegas instead and got married.”

“Whoa. That—” I stare at my sister. It seems like the more she talks, the less sense she makes. Or maybe it’s just me; maybe I just don’t understand what she’s trying to say. But that’s not the way communication is supposed to work, so one of us is clearly at fault. “That was like ten years ago.”

“Almost ten and a half now,” Jake corrects.

“Here.” Bianca hands me a cup of coffee. “You might want to sit down for this.”

Figuring it’s generally wise to take my super smart sister’s advice, I retreat to the table and take a seat. The coffee is good—and it does taste like home, even though everything else is feeling uncomfortably foreign. Like I’ve wandered into an alternate universe. “Okay so, what happened after that?” I shoot Jake a look. “Don’t tell me. You went out for groceries and never came back? Did you get amnesia or something? And, how come this is the first I’m hearing about it?”

“You didn’t hear about it because the first person I saw when we got home was Geno. He convinced me not to tell anyone.”

“Of course, he did,” I mutter, rubbing my temples, as it suddenly hits me; Rosa has stolen my plan. By which, of course, I mean, Nico’s plan. Which was briefly mine, as well. Until it wasn’t. And which is suddenly sounding like it would have been a really good plan, after all. Because right about now, I’m kind of wishing that I, too, had a surprise hubby that I could pull out of a hat. “So, what gun did Geno hold to your head?”

Rosa shrugs. “There were a few, actually. Nonna’s health being the biggest. She’d been hospitalized while we were gone, and Geno was desperate for us to get the marriage annulled before she got out.”

I want to laugh, even though it’s not at all funny. “Annulled? Omigod. That’s a joke, right?”

“No. Of course, it’s not. Why would I joke about something like that?”

“Because it makes no sense, that’s why! What grounds did you have to annul your marriage? And what did any of it have to do with Nonna’s gallbladder operation?”

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