Page 9 of Her Italian Wedding (Sweet Treats 9)

Matteo looks at me somberly, even as his bronzed hands masterfully guide the wheel.

“Yes, and it’s a trend that’s occurring all over the developed world, even here in Italy. How can people improve their life situations? How can they do better? Where are the opportunities? Chissà la risposta?”

Domenico turns to smile at me once more.

“These are heavy topics for a pretty girl,” he says. “I’m impressed. I thought you didn’t go to college? Didn’t you say you joined Dads and Daughters as soon as you turned eighteen?”

I nod slowly, while gazing out the window again. The forest is beautiful, but I only see blurs of green and brown.

“Yes, I did. I don’t have much formal education. I transferred high schools five times between the ages of thirteen to seventeen, so I didn’t get too much learning while in the classroom. But I’ve always enjoyed learning on my own, and I try to read a lot to make up for any deficiencies.”

The two Italian men shoot me impressed looks.

“What do you read?”

I smile wryly.

“A lot of the New York Times, which is why I probably sound like I’m parroting them a lot. I also read Wikipedia, and I know that Wikipedia can be wrong, but it’s been a great resource. I definitely fall into Wiki holes sometimes.”

Domenico and Matteo laugh, white smiles breaking across their handsome faces.

“We like women who are resourceful,” begins Matteo.

“We’re glad that the club sent you to us,” adds Domenico with a meaningful glance my way. “If they’d given us a dummy, who knows where we’d be?” he asks rhetorically. “Probably still at the airport. Ah, here we are now,” he says, looking out the window with satisfaction. You see? The Lodge isn’t built yet.”

I was expecting to see wood framing and maybe even an open construction pit. But instead, I see a large structure that looks almost finished. There’s still obvious painting that needs to be done, and there’s no landscaping yet, but the Lodge is probably eighty percent of the way there. Like the Lodge I’m from, it’s a huge, cabin-like building that looks part ski lodge and part Aspen getaway. A tall, pitched roof made of logs reaches high in the sky, and there are multiple windows cut out from the log walls. There’s a wraparound porch that already has a few rocking chairs strategically placed, as well as a large set of wooden double doors.

“Come,” says Matteo, getting out of the car. He opens my door, and offers his hand. “Enough depressing talk. You are an intelligent, beautiful young woman, and my friend and I want to show you what we’ve been working on. Hopefully, it lives up to your standards.”

I laugh merrily, my heart lifting as I jump out of the car with Matteo’s hand to steady me. Domenico takes my other hand, and as a trio, the three of us make our way to the front door. I feel happy and elated. I’m finally in Italy, the land of my dreams, with two men who will show me the way.

4

Domenico

Melissa is sweet, curvy, and as Americans like to say, exactly our cup of tea. She’s a thousand times brighter than the brightest light, and a million times more stunning than the gorgeous Italian gazelles that stalk the runways of Milan.

After all, when the Americans said they’d send us a daughter, we weren’t expecting much. We thought the American girl would be middling at most. Perhaps she’d be uneducated and know nothing about our glorious Roman history. Perhaps she’d be entitled, and want to be waited on hand and foot.

But instead, Melissa is none of those things. While lacking in formal schooling, the curvy girl has found ways to educate herself. She reads prodigiously and exhibits a curiosity about things she’s unfamiliar with. She’s already begun to pick up Italian, and my friend Matteo and I are impressed. Many American tourists visit Italy and never pick up the language. They can manage a grazie or maybe a ciao, but not much else.

But this brunette bombshell is nothing like that. She absorbs information like a sponge, and even now, Melissa walks around our half-finished walls with eyes of wonder.

“This is beautiful,” she breathes. “It’s almost done. I thought you guys said that the Milan Lodge was nowhere near completion.”

I chuckle deep in my chest.

“Cara, that’s because you haven’t seen the rest of the structure yet. We’re past the framing stage, but a lot of things still need to be put in place, including electricity and plumbing.”

But Melissa isn’t listening. She’s walking over to the huge, arched entryway that leads into another sitting room, and gasping at the sheer size of the spaces.

“Holy cow,” she murmurs. “So you’re going to have three fireplaces?”

Matteo laughs, throwing his black hair back.

“Yes, if all goes as planned. We think it would add a homey touch to the cabin, don’t you think?”

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