Page 89 of Que Será, Syrah

“Those are some pretty heavy sighs for such a beautiful morning,” Rosa observes.

I turn to her. “Is it? Beautiful, I mean?”

Rosa’s smile dims. “Oh, sorry. You’re probably still upset about yesterday, huh?”

I blink. She can’t know about Clay, so… “Oh, you mean because of Nico? Nah, he’s a pest, but I’m sure we can find a way to get rid of him.”

“Oh, good,” Rosa says, perking up, looking so relieved that my own mood plummets. Because I’m not nearly as confident as I know I sounded.

The coffee is finally done. I fill two mugs and carry them to the table, where Rosa and I doctor them to our liking. Or as close as we can get. “Not bad,” my sister tells me. She’s a terrible liar, by the way.

“Mmm,” I murmur in response.

“Hey, do you remember the tea parties?” Rosa suddenly asks. And I don’t take offense even though it’s pretty obvious what’s sparked that memory.

“With the espresso cups and demitasse spoons?” I reply.

“Yes! And the cookie cutter sandwiches and tiny cakes,” Rosa adds.

“And the musical teapot!” we both exclaim.

Nonna’s tea-parties were legendary, even though the tea was so weak it barely stained the milk. Cue the comparison to this morning’s coffee. And also, cue the return of my earlier regrets.

Really, mornings suck. I don’t know why everyone doesn’t avoid them.

“Have you and Jake talked about having kids?” I ask.

Rosa blushes. “Well, yes. But, you know, there are things to consider.”

“I promise I’ll move out as soon as you say the word,” I say. And then immediately wish I could call the words back. Do I want to leave home, now that I’m finally back? Hell, no.

Rosa laughs. “I said we’re considering it. There’s no need for anyone to start packing their bags. And besides, maybe Jake and I will be the ones to leave.”

“What? No.” I wave towards the window, gesturing in the direction of Bar Down. “You can’t leave. This is your land, Jake’s land…at least it should have been.”

“Coulda, shoulda, woulda,” Rosa says. We both sip our coffee, and I find myself wishing I’d thought to make toast as well.

“Well, anyway, you’re going to be a great mom someday,” I tell her. “You’ll have lots of kids and when you start to throw tea parties for them, you have to promise to invite me.”

Rosa sighs. “A ‘great mom,’ I wonder if I will be.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Well, we didn’t have much of a role model, did we? And as Bee pointed out yesterday, you and I share some similarities with her.”

My mouth drops open. “When did she say that?”

“Oh, you know, with both of us eloping, secret marriages, running off to… Well, just running off, I guess.”

“Running off to Europe?” I say, completing the sentence the way I know she meant it.

“Well, I never made it that far, but sure. It’s a pattern, isn’t it?”

I flinch at the word, which… Seriously, if I never have to hear it again, that’d be great. “No, no, no.” Shaking my head, I scowl at my sister. “You are nothing at all like Mama. And I don’t believe for an instant that that’s what Bee meant.”

Rosa shrugs. “You don’t know that. You were so young when she left us, how could you?”

My shoulders are tense. I think about that toast again, or maybe scrambled eggs—that can’t be hard to figure out, right? Or maybe going out for a run. I haven’t taken even one exercise class since I’ve been back, and I’m feeling it! But Rosa is serious about what she’s saying, and that’s Geno’s fault, too. Well, mostly Mama’s of course, but not entirely.

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