“Not all my choices are bad,” I say loudly, and she looks at me with wide eyes.
“I didn’t say they were, but honestly, Amelia, a lot of them are,” she clutches her pearl necklace, playing with it. “I blame myself. I didn’t teach you how to judge character properly.”
“You’re the worst judge of character there is,” I stand up. “And let’s not talk about drinking, Mama. You were blind drunk for many years after Papa left. I would go days without food, without a bath. And when you were awake, you’d pick on me all the time.”
“Honestly, Amelia, your memory is terrible. That didn’t happen at all,” my mother flusters. “I had some problems, but I never neglected you.”
“That’s all anyone in this family has done. Papa would travel constantly, and then he left for years only to come take me away from you and give me a cold, loveless life. You constantly criticize me. I’m too fat, too skinny. I look tired, I look old, I have saggy boobs.” She opens her mouth, but I hold a hand up. “Enough, Mama. I didn’t need Francesco to defend me at the wedding. I can defend myself. If you want to stay in my life, then you need to make a choice to change how you treat me because I won’t stand for it anymore.”
Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I turn to leave. I paused at the door. “Another thing, Mama, you shouldn’t frown so much. Your worry lines are far worse than mine.” Feeling triumphant, I leave the apartment and hurry down the stairs before I lose the little bravery I have.
Chapter 8 - Frankie
"I don’t understand why you are so insistent that I go?” I ask Alessandro, pacing in front of his desk. “I have several projects that I need to take care of.”
“I’m more than capable of handling my own business, Frankie.” my brother looks at me with steely eyes. “You haven’t taken a break in as long as I’ve known you, and that’s your whole life. Go, have a honeymoon, get to know Amelia because you’re tied together now.”
I wave dismissively. “There’s plenty of time for that.”
“This isn’t a request.” Alessandro sits back. “Understand?”
“Understood,” I say, leaving the office.
Amelia is waiting in the car outside. This was my last-ditch effort to try and get out of going on a seaside honeymoon.
It’s a long drive to the resort and an even more tedious process to check in, but once our luggage is brought up, Amelia and I are left standing in the living area of our room. Her bedroom is behind her, and mine is behind me.
Amelia looks around awkwardly. “I think I’ll go tan. What are you going to do?”
“Watch the news,” I say, glancing at the wall-mounted flat screen.
“Seriously? You come all the way to the ocean to watch the news. Why don’t you grab a book off the shelf, come to the beach, and read? Lord knows you probably need to work on your tan.” she grabs the handle of her luggage. “It’s a once-off invite.”
I feel suitably scolded and sigh, the tension mounting between my shoulders. I go to change into my swimming trunks and grab my sunglasses before I browse through the books that are available on the shelf in the living area. I find a decent horror-looking novel and grab it—Buried, it’s called. Its cover is worn from being read many times, telling me it’s a good choice.
Amelia comes out, and I gawk at her, glad I have my sunglasses on so she can’t see the lust in my eyes. She’s wearing a bright yellow bikini top and bottom, with a sheer blue and purple sarong tied around her waist.
“This place does have towels down there, don’t they?” she asks, looking at me. “What?”
“Nothing,” I clear my throat. “And yes, they generally do.”
“See, you’re taking my advice?” She says.
I hold the book up. “Who doesn’t like a good horror on the beach?”
“I can’t believe I’m going to ask you this, but when we get down to the beach, will you rub oil on me so I can get an even tan.” She blushes. “I’m only asking you because I don’t want some shady guy touching me.”
“So, at least you don’t consider me shady.” I smile, and she swats my arm.
“Don’t get too clever. This doesn’t change anything.”
“I know, but we’re stuck together now, so let’s try to be nice, at least,” I say calmly. She eyes me, but I turn for the door.
Once on the beach, we find two hotel loungers with towels and make ourselves comfortable. I watch as Amelia rubs oil everywhere she can reach before she holds the bottle out to me and turns around to rest on her stomach.
I kneel in the sand beside her lounger and rub a generous amount of oil on her skin. The sheen of the oil makes her skin feel and look luxurious.
I wipe my hand down my leg to get the excess oil off and put the bottle down, going back to my lounger. I rest back and open my book to the first page, and that’s how we remain—soaking in the sunlight as I read, and Amelia, I presume, is sleeping.