“Yes.” She smiled down at her tiny baby, who was making ba-ba-ba sounds. “His name is Oliver.”
“We are leaving for London next week and won’t be back until spring. My wife has been dropping hints that we should visit you and drop off your wedding gift.”
“You didn’t need to get us a gift,” she said, blushing. Cesare laughed.
“You don’t know my wife, obviously, or you’d know that isn’t true.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t invite you to the wedding...”
“You don’t need to explain.” And Rosalie got the feeling that she really didn’t—that he understood. As she exhaled in relief, he continued, “But we’d love to see you now. I’ve been leaving my cousin messages for the last few days, but he hasn’t responded.”
“Alex has been busy with harvest,” she said awkwardly, embarrassed.
“Oh, yes, of course—I should have remembered. Perhaps it’s not a good time. You could come visit us in London this winter...” His voice sounded doubtful, as well it should. Rosalie couldn’t imagine Alex traveling all the way to London when he couldn’t be bothered to visit them here. “Or we could arrange for our families to meet in spring? By then, we’ll have another one.” Cesare’s voice was fond. “Our fourth.”
“Fourth!” she gasped, astonished.
“I’d like my other three to meet their new baby cousin. Not to mention you and Alex.”
“Your kids have never met Alex? That’s ridiculous!” She looked down at her own baby, who desperately needed cousins. Her child had so little family. So did she.
Take a risk. Be bold.
“I have an idea,” Rosalie heard herself say. “Tonight is the last night of harvest, and we’re having a bonfire with all his employees and staff to celebrate with dinner and wine. Why don’t you join us?”
“Are you sure Alex would want us there?”
“Of course I’m sure,” she lied stoutly. “After all, it’s a party! Please come at eight, if that’s not too late for your family.”
“Wonderful. We’ll make sure the children take a nap beforehand. We look forward to it. Grazie mille, Rosalie. And thank you.” He paused, and added, “Oh, and my wife wants me to tell you her name is Emma, and she can’t wait to meet you, because the wives of Falconeri men need to stick together. I can’t believe you made me say that,” she heard him grumble affectionately to his wife as he hung up.
Smiling, Rosalie put her baby down for a nap and took a long, hot shower. Afterward, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her great-aunt was right. She was already feeling more hopeful. All she needed to do was be brave enough to make some changes. How hard could that be?
Instead of her usual jeans and T-shirt, she reached into her closet for a red dress she’d never worn before. It was a soft knit fabric, forgiving of the few pounds of baby weight she had yet to lose, while flattering her curves. The scarlet fabric looked striking against her dark hair, which tonight, instead of pulling into a ponytail, she let tumble over her shoulders, brushing it until it shone.
Tonight, things would change, she vowed. They’d come together as a family. She and Alex would finally reconnect. Now that he was done with harvest, he could wake up from his trance, as she had. He’d take her in his arms and kiss her, really kiss her. She’d be back in his bed tonight.
Maybe, if she was really brave, tonight at the bonfire she could even tell Alex she loved him. Rosalie looked at herself in the mirror.
Maybe not.
But everything was going to be fine. So she was in love with her husband. That wasn’t such a disaster, surely? They had so much to be grateful for. A good harvest. A happy, healthy baby. Long-lost family coming to visit. What could possibly go wrong?
CHAPTER TEN
THE BONFIRE LIT UP the autumn night as wine flowed from oak casks and tables groaned beneath enormous bowls of pasta, antipasto and freshly baked bread, as well as luscious desserts. Laughter ran through the small crowds of farmworkers, winery staff and house staff, all of them gathered together in a raucous, joyful celebration of a bountiful grape harvest. Vendemmia had come early this year, at the very end of September, after the hot summer.
Rosalie had been nervous when Cesare, Emma and their three children had arrived at the villa earlier that evening. Alex was still out in the fields; he had no idea she’d invited his cousin’s family to their home. But she’d discovered, talking to the villa’s housekeeper, that Cesare wasn’t just a billionaire hotel tycoon, but also a prince.
She’d been briefly nervous, wondering if the Falconeris would scorn her. But as soon as Rosalie welcomed them into the library, she’d swiftly realized she had no reason to be scared.
“Me, scorn you?” Emma said later, after Rosalie confessed her fear. “Why would I ever do that?” She gave a low laugh. “Don’t you know I used to be a maid at Cesare’s hotel?”
When Rosalie met them, she discovered Cesare was tall and dark, with the Falconeri good looks, in his midforties with streaks of gray at his temples. His American wife was lovely and kind, perhaps in her midthirties. She’d immediately given Rosalie a big hug and put her at ease with a warm smile. “So you’re Rosalie! I’m so happy to meet you at last. And this is your baby?”
“Oliver,” she’d replied, holding her yawning child close. “He’s nearly two months old.”
“Adorable,” Emma sighed, stroking his dark tufts of hair. T