Page 9 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

‘Will we have exams, Mom? I can’t wait to have exams!’ Maddy chimed, clapping her tiny hands together in a dreamy mood.

I smiled at my adorable princess. Let her dream on for now. She’d have plenty of time to learn gradually that life was one big, endless exam. One that you didn’t always pass.

‘I hate exams,’ my son whined.

‘But think, Warren,’ Julian interjected as he came in from the fields, toeing his shoes off and washing his hands in the kitchen sink. And reaching for my pristine dish towel – something that drove me bananas, but as long as he played on my team, he could even wipe his muddy boots on my apron.

‘You’ll know way more than the senior students at our old school will ever know – plus you get to play in an Italian soccer team. How cool is that?’

Warren pretended to huff but then shrugged. Julian could convince him to walk over burning coals, so strong was my son’s admiration for him.

Everything here in Italy was still so new to the kids. They loved being here, but it wasn’t without its challenges. Sometimes I wondered if I’d been reckless to uproot my children so completely in the name of my lifelong personal dream of a life in Italy. Whisking them away from their friends, their home, their school (although I’d managed to drag their principal along as a bonus). Had I thrown them both in at the deep end? Or was it a good thing, a life-enriching experience that would make them more prepared for their future? Things with them were good at the moment, but would they remain like that in the long run?

Regarding Julian, I was already worried about testing his patience. I didn’t need my children to suffer as well. God, would I be crying and promising to take them back to Boston by Christmas if they weren’t happy?

‘Of course not, honey,’ Julian assured me later as we lay in bed, my laptop on my knees. I was updating A Taste of Tuscany’s Facebook page. New photos, some fictitious reviews (well, that’s business, right or wrong), some shots of Renata’s dishes that guests could hope to taste from her tiny catering gigs.

‘But are you sure?’ I asked him. ‘What if we’re wrong? What if they can’t adjust? What if I’ve traumatized them?’

He turned back to look at me as he pulled off his T-shirt. ‘Of course not. Kids have amazing adjustment power. They’re extremely resilient. You’ll see. Now stop worrying and get closer…’

He turned off the lamp and reached for me, playing with my spaghetti straps, nuzzling my throat. Through the open window, the fragrance of the early summer night wafted in, singing a lullaby to my brain and finally relaxing my muscles. He was right. Everything would be OK. I just needed to relax. Not worry about the kids too much. Or about A Taste of Tuscany.As if.

‘But what about you?’ I whispered.

‘Sweets, I’m more than resilient.’

‘No. I mean, are you happy? You threw away your whole life to follow me here.’

‘And you’re asking me this after two years?’

‘I asked you a mega-gazillion times, Julian!’

To which he chuckled, brushing my hair off my shoulder. ‘Silly sausage. If I wasn’t happy with you, I wouldn’t be here, would I?’

Huh. So if he wasn’t happy, all he had to do was walk away? It was that simple? So I guess it had to be true that he was still happy with me, with all he’d put up with since the day we met. I was loud and bossy and ran my household and business like a tight ship. But if you knew me at all, you’d know inside I’m absolute mush.

I lay quietly, mulling it over. Still, loving me and being happy with our life here were two different things. If I was certain that we’d made the right decision in the long run, I’d be happier, too. A new woman, in fact, like you see in those makeover shows likeTen Years Younger. Only I’d be ten years happier.

‘Besides,’ he added, ‘isn’t this what you always dreamed? A life in the country, a stone’s throw from a stunning medieval town full of culture? A slower-paced life, your own business and the house of your dreams?’

It was. It was everything I’d dreamed. ‘Sorry. I know how lucky we are. I just… worry about things.’

‘Then stop worrying, love. We have it all, for once. And I’ll be damned if we don’t deserve it. And the business will only get better. Just give it time.’

Even if he wasn’t always around, I knew his heart was in the right place. I reached up to caress his jaw. ‘You, my love, have a way of reminding me of all the good things we have.’

He chuckled. ‘Come here and let me remind you of yet another one, then…’

And with that, he kissed me smack on the lips. He was good at finding me in the dark.

So now I was going to stop worrying about us and go with the flow. Sit back and finally enjoy the benefits of all the hard work that it took us to get here as a family. Despite all the obstacles Ira had put in my path all these years, I’d finally made it to Tuscany. Where we belonged. Where we were happy.

But that wouldn’t stop me from continuing my quest to find out why business was slow and trying to figure out if I was making any marketing mistakes. I had a whole lot of investigating to do. And some more marketing research. Perhaps Italians had a different outlook on the B&B business? I’d have to look into that. And find a way to let everyone know we existed. I’d have to extend our social media presence. Be ubiquitous. Make everyone aware that we were here, and in business.

And as far as the wedding was concerned, now that we had a date, I knew I’d dupe Paul into taking care of it. And deal with the consequences if it fell through again. But you have to have a little faith. This time it would be for real. And Paul was perfect for the job. He was the elegant one who knew what was in, what was out and what went with what.

We’d make the ceremony nice and simple, in our very own home (all we had to do was throw a bit of money at the Church in the form of a generous donation), surrounded by all our loved ones. You know, just the kids, Paul, Renata’s family, Judy and her family. Vince and his mob, Julian’s parents and a few friends. And, oh! I almost forgot to tell my three adorable aunts! They’d practically raised me after my nonna had died, while Marcy just lounged. Marcy hated them with a passion and left every room they entered with a haughty huff. But there was no way I wasn’t having them on such an important day.

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