Page 59 of When Love Gives You Lemons
Mostly to Fielder, hoping that if I just got words down on the page, the loss and heartache would leave my bones.
Someone wraps their arms around my upper body and rests their chin on the top of my skull. Candied lilacs fill my nostrils as a manicured stiletto-nailed hand slaps the side of my face.
“Gorgeous view, huh?” Sienna slides next to me.
“Nothing like it.”
She presses her cheek to mine. “Which one are we talking about? The sea, or the boys? If option B, please specify the boy.”
“Not funny.” I slide away.
“Oh, come on, I’m the bride, you have to amuse me.” She offers a toothy grin, but I’m not smiling.
“I’m not that person, See.”
“What person is that?” She leans forward, propping her chin up on her elbow.
“Never mind.”
“Don’t be so serious; I was only joking,” she says. “I like Cam.”
I glare at her.
“I do! He seems really nice. I just don’t know him, not like I know Fielder. I grew up with Fielder. He’s, like, basically family, you know? It’s—different.”
I grind my teeth.
“Sorry.” She lays her head on my shoulder. “If I haven’t yet, thanks for being here. Dealing with me.”
“As bride-to-be, you’ve got me on a technicality. My loyalty as man of honor is to you in your time of need.”
She laughs. “You’ve been around the Lemons too long. Dramatic much?”
“Speaking of, how’s your new mother-in-law?”
She flaps her lips. “I love Topher’s mom, but she’s a bit of a—”
“Helicopter?”
“Right? I think she would build a house up Topher’s ass if she could,” Sienna says, looking around, making sure we’re alone. “I love her, though. She’s made sure the wedding planners have everything taken care of, that I’m good, Topher’s good, Mom and Dad, too. She’s been amazing with everyone. I’m just overwhelmed, and I can’t help but think, if Nonno could see all this.” Tears form in the corners of her eyes.
“He’d never shut up about it. He’d be happy to eat off a fruit stand on the side of the road. Or one of those sandwich stands.”
“A little prosciutto and fresh mozz on ciabatta. Dash of balsamic.”
“Fuhgettaboutit.” I laugh despite myself.
“I haven’t seen you smile in a long time.” She dabs at her eyes with the sleeve of her oversized hoodie. “Not like you were today. All day. You’re always so serious.”
“Am not.”
“Okay, Nonno.”
“Scusi?”
“You’resoNonno. Very stern, focused, harder than you need to be. An old man in a nineteen-year-old’s body.”
Something Niccolò Avello said during the tour earlier today comes roaring back to me. Because his family has lived and worked on the groves for over two hundred years, he joked that his blood isn’t blood, but juice from the lemon. Nonno used to say we had wood in our bones. I wonder if that’s what hardened me?
