Page 63 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 5-8
Five years later…
‘MARELLAKEEPS ONwinning. It’s not fair.’
Gazing down at his son’s tear-streaked face, Ettore felt his heart contract, remembering all the times he and Edo had raced one another. He still thought about his brother most days but no longer with the guilt he had carried for so long.
Dealing with the memories of his mother was still a work in progress but, as with Edo, he found that they were more varied and less damning than he had once imagined. And his past, the bad and, increasingly, the good, acted as a guide rail for his own parenting.
Because he was not just a son and a brother now, but a father too.
He made his voice serious, giving Giovanni’s question the consideration it deserved. ‘Your sister is faster than you, but she has longer legs because she is four and you’re two.’
‘I’m nearly three,’ his son said quickly. He loved his sister, but it didn’t stop him railing against the unfairness of her being two years older than him. And a faster swimmer.
Ettore smiled. ‘Yes, you are. And one day your legs will be as long as Marella’s because her legs aren’t going to keep growing, are they?’
Giovanni thought for a moment and then shook his head. ‘But I wish I was bigger now.’
Ettore leaned forward on the sunlounger and took his son’s hands. ‘I know, but you make bigger splashes than Marella when you kick.’
‘Only a little bit.’ Marella was standing next to her brother now, her blonde hair a mass of damp, unruly curls. ‘But you are two years younger than me so even a little bit is a lot,’ she added begrudgingly.
‘That’s true.’ Ettore took his daughter’s hand and pulled her in for a shoulder bump and she gave him a heart-melting smile that she had inherited straight from her mother along with her blonde hair and her love of nature.
‘When’s Mamma going to be here?’
‘Any minute. She’s just having a nap. Why don’t you practise being floating stars while you wait for her to come down?’
‘And then can we have ice cream?’ Giovanni said, his light brown eyes widening hopefully, his tears forgotten.
He nodded. ‘You can.’
‘Come on, Gio.’ Marella took her brother’s hand and then she turned and kissed Ettore on the cheek.‘Ti voglio bene, Papà.’
‘And I love you both too. And no running.’
Heart swelling with love and pride, he watched them walk back to the pool, their little legs stiff with the effort of not running, Marella’s hand clasped tightly round her younger brother’s.
Officially, it was a working day, but he had already prepared for tomorrow’s meeting with the Ministry of Agricultural, Food and Forestry Policies. Today he could afford simply to enjoy life with his family.
A lot had changed in the five years since he and Dulcie had got back together. They had renewed their marriage vows and had two children. And three of their wines had been awarded Tre Bicchieri by the prestigious Gambero Rosso guide.
But the greatest changes had happened with his family. He had called Sofia after he and Dulcie had returned from Cambridge. They had talked about the past, but mostly about the present and, to his surprise, Fia had asked to move back into the castle. More surprisingly she was a doting aunt.
As for his cousins. They were still unpredictable and wayward but the changes he’d made to his own life had rippled through the entire extended family. His door was always open, but he had made it clear that there would be no more handouts. No freeloading. Everyone had to earn a living.
And in another surprising development, Checco had stepped up and proved himself a capable team player.
Ettore glanced over to where Edoardo was dozing in the sunlight. But it was the change in his relationship with his father that mattered the most. Because against all the odds, Edoardo was not just alive, he was thriving. Incredibly he was following some of his doctor’s orders and every day he made it clear that Ettore was the son he didn’t just tolerate but loved.
And he loved his grandchildren too. Equally.
Ettore felt his spine stiffen. His skin was prickling and even without hearing the children’s shrieks of excitement he knew his wife had just walked onto the terrace by the pool. Inside, outside, in a crowded room or in the darkness, it made no difference, he always knew where she was.
Knew too, and this gave him as great a pleasure as his children, that she was where she wanted to be. With him, here at Castiglione Fiana.
Now, he turned his head and allowed himself a moment of pure, indulgent pleasure to watch Dulcie walk towards him while everything else stilled and softened into silence.
Dulcie.
