Page 23 of Her Italian Wedding (Sweet Treats 9)

“No sweat, kid,” says Shosh while wiping a few tears away herself. “I still remember you as a knobby-kneed grade school girl from the home, but you’re not that anymore. Go out and conquer!”

With that, we laugh again and hold hands tightly. After all, it was me and Shosh against the world for so long. But now, with Domenico and Matteo on my side, the tables have turned and I have more people in my corner. The only question is: will I have the courage to declare my love while stating my wants as well?

11

Matteo

The hotel door opens softly, and immediately Domenico and I look up. Melissa’s back, and she’s as radiant as always. However, there’s a gleam of tears to her eyes, and immediately, my friend and I stand up.

“Cara, what’s wrong?” I demand, striding over to pull her into my muscled arms. “Did you get into a fight with your friend?”

“Did that bitch say something?” growls Domenico, already looking vengeful. “If so, I’ll fucking beat her into the ground.”

“No, no,” Melissa says with a choked laugh while wiping her eyes. “Shoshanna is completely fine. We had a good gab, that’s all. But now, I have something to tell you.”

Uh oh. Whenever someone says they have ‘something to tell you,’ it’s usually not a hopeful sign. With concern on our faces, we lead Melissa to the small sitting area where she perches her curvy form delicately on a small, overstuffed couch.

“What is it, cara?” I ask gently. “It can’t be so bad.”

She smiles a little tearily at me.

“It’s not bad at all,” she begins slowly. “It’s just that … well, I’m pregnant. With your baby.”

The electricity in the room is immediate.

“You’re expecting our child?” Domenico rasps, immediately kneeling on the floor by her side. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Melissa nods, while wiping at her eyes gently. “I’m about two months along. You’re going to be fathers, Domenico and Matteo.”

My friend and I share elated looks.

“Sweetheart, that’s the best news of all,” I say fervently, kneeling on the floor at her other side. “We weren’t planning on being fathers so soon, but that’s okay. A baby! What wonderful news! Mio Dio!”

Melissa smiles and takes another long, shuddering breath.

“Well, I’m having a baby, but there’s more,” she says. “You see—”

I cut her off.

“You’re having twins!” I interrupt with excitement.

She smiles and shakes her head.

“No, not that I know of. But Matteo and Domenico, I have to tell you the truth: I’m in love with you both, but I don’t want to return to Italy.”

My friend and I are utterly perplexed. We exchange confused looks and turn back to the pretty girl.

“But where will you go?” I ask.

“And with whom?” echoes Domenico, the look on his face dark.

Melissa’s breath hitches as she answers.

“Well, I was hoping that you would stay here,” she begins slowly. “Not here, as in Florida, but here, as in the United States. This is my home, and I want my baby to be born in my native country.”

I nod quickly.

“Of course, sweetheart. With the coronavirus rampant in Italy, it’s not safe for a pregnant woman. And if he or she is born in the United States, he’ll have automatic citizenship. With the EU the way it is right now, that’s big. We’ll stay here, definitely. It’s no problem, cara.”

But Melissa shakes her head slowly.

“No, it’s more complicated than that. I don’t just want to stay here for the birth, and my reluctance to return to Italy isn’t just because of the pandemic either,” she says slowly. “I love being American. I love living in the United States, and I want my child to grow up here too. I want him or her to experience what it’s like to live in a country that reveres democracy, and which subscribes to the ideas of freedom and the pursuit of happiness. I want him growing up with a feeling of patriotism for my native country.”

We stare at her.

“You can pursue happiness in Italy,” says my friend slowly, his voice deep. “And aren’t you part Italian? Italy is your native country too.”

Melissa looks down at her hands and pauses.

“Yes, I am of Italian-American heritage, but it was a long time ago. My ancestors came to the United States at the turn of the century, and as far as I know, we stopped speaking Italian about twenty years afterwards. But it’s more than just a language issue. I want certain values for my child,” she begins slowly. “It’s hard to explain, but I’m American through and through, and well … I guess I can’t explain it,” she finishes helplessly. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I’m hoping you’ll consider my request.”

Domenico looks like he has thunderclouds on his face, but I step in before he can reply.

“Of course we’ll consider your request,” I say, shooting a warning look at my friend. “You’re a pregnant woman, so it’s not safe to return to Europe just now. Plus, we love America as well. We’ll have to talk about what becomes of the Milan Lodge if we’re no longer there, but that’s by the by. The Italian chapter of Dads and Daughters will survive without us. What’s more important is that you and the baby are happy. Nothing trumps that.”

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