Page 27 of Honeyed

“What did you make?” Cass tries to smooth things over by asking about her cooking.

“I prepared some veal and chicken for you, some things to freeze. I plan to make you all things to freeze for when the baby gets here but wanted you to try them first.” Nonna starts lifting lids and showing my sister-in-law.

“You’re the best.” Cass kisses her cheek.

Surely, no pregnant or postpartum woman in our family would have to cook for herself for a year if the older generations could help it.

Cass yawns. “Would you guys mind if I laid down for a little? I’m so tired.”

“Not at all,” I say immediately, trying to be supportive.

“We’ll make you lunch. You just rest.” Nonna shoos her.

I didn’t think this through though, because now I’m stuck in the kitchen with the one person who can see through every act.

“So tell me, my Alana, what is really going on?” She wastes no time as soon as Cass is out of earshot.

Sighing, I drop my elbows to the counter. “It’s real. Can’t you just believe that?”

“Maybe if I wasn’t me, I could take that at face value. But I am me, and I can tell this is as phony as those plants your brother insists on hanging from the ceiling of the restaurant.”

Of course, she can see the lie, and there is no use in trying to convince her otherwise, so I just come out with it.

“After Arthur died, Warren got a letter that said he’d be awarded the full estate. All he had to do was marry me. Then Warren talked to August, heard more about the intensifying problems with her mother, and knew he needed to do something. He asked me to marry him so we could get the money to pay for August’s college in full. He also promised to get me the storefront I wanted as a perk for me. So we went to the courthouse, got married, and here we are, I guess.”

Nonna stops what she’s doing, loading chicken into a pan on the stove, and blinks at me. Then she crosses the room, her small, frail body next to mine.

“Oh, my brave, strong girl. Always trying to do for others, even if it strains your own heart.” She palms my face with her weathered hand, and I look into her eyes.

It’s moments like this that I don’t take for granted. Someday, she won’t be here. But I’ll get to tell everyone that I grew up with such a close connection to this woman who outlasted generations, countries, and a lot of sacrifices to provide for her family.

“He doesn’t know, Nonna.” A knot forms in my throat as I blink past the tears.

“No, he does. He knows that you’re in love with him. And he feels the same. Warren is the kind of man your grandfather was—quiet with his words but loud with his actions. His love for you is rooted deep, bella. He’s loved you since he was a boy, but never knew how to reconcile it. Warren has known tremendous loss, something none of us can imagine. He might have been pushed into this choice, but sometimes that’s the best thing for us. Sometimes, being forced to do something is the only way we get what we really want.”

“You really think he actually wants to be married to me?” Hope, stubborn and foolish, won’t be extinguished from my heart.

“I predict that in forty years, you’ll both be laughing about this with a grandbaby a piece on your hips.” She pats my cheek.

I can’t help but laugh. My nonna thinks she’s some psychic presence. But the picture she paints does sound like a dream.

“I’m not so sure.” I turn to grab a tissue and dab at my eyes.

“You’ll see, my girl. Everything will work out the way it’s meant to. But my one piece of advice for marriage? Things always get worse before they get better. It’s the staying the course that so many people have a problem with. Those who give up too easily when times get very tough. That isn’t you, Alana. You and Warren will stand the test of time.”

Her confidence is something I don’t feel. Not even remotely. “But what if he doesn’t love me back?”

Nonna rolls her eyes. “He’d be an idiot not to. But you’re also an idiot for not realizing he’s seen no other woman besides you since the moment you brought him home for that school project. Take this opportunity, my love. Show him that he made a mistake not pursuing you for pure reasons from the get-go. Show him that what is between is something rare … a love that almost no one these days finds.”

The words coming from this woman who had her love for nearly fifty years give me a renewed sense of fight. If she believes we’ll look back on this one day as we rock on our front porch, who am I to say she’s wrong?

I just hope and pray that my grandmother’s sixth sense is right about my fake marriage.

12

WARREN

The papers on my desk feel like they will come up and bite me if I don’t study them carefully enough.

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