That's Amore

Chapter 27

The vineyard glittered that night as though the stars themselves had descended into the rows. Lanterns swung from branches and trellises, their golden glow pooling over baskets of bread, bowls of olives, platters of roasted meats, figs opened like rubies on silver trays. Long tables stretched across the courtyard, draped in white cloth, heavy with wine bottles that caught the light like veins of fire.

The air thrummed with music — a violin, a tambourine, the deep laughter of men and the high, clear voices of women clapping in rhythm. Cicadas hummed their endless song beyond the walls, weaving into the melody. Smoke rose from grills, carrying with it the sharp scent of rosemary and the sweetness of charred peaches. Children darted between chairs, chasing one another with sparklers that flared briefly before extinguishing in trails of smoke.

Isabella sat near Sofia, who leaned back in her chair, one hand absently stroking the curve of her belly. Her face glowed, but her eyes carried shadows that no lantern could dissolve. Renato hovered nearby, piling her plate with roasted zucchini and fennel, fussing until she swatted his hand away with a laugh.

Across the table, Giuliano poured wine for the workers, his profile lit by flame, his smile faint but real as they teased him. Isabella’s heart stumbled at the sight, remembering the kiss by the pool, the touch of his hand over hers in the garden. But tonight was not for secrets. Tonight was for celebration.

“Eat,” Sofia urged, pushing a plate toward her. “Or Alessandro will think you’ve lost strength in America.”

Isabella laughed, taking a fig, its skin bursting with sweetness. Juice stained her fingertips, and she licked them quickly, cheeks warming as she caught Giuliano’s gaze flickering toward her. She turned away, biting the fig, letting its honeyed richness dissolve on her tongue.

The night deepened, the lanterns swaying in the breeze, their light dancing across faces flushed with wine. Someone began to sing an old Tuscan folk song, and soon voices rose in chorus, strong and rough, weaving together like vines. Isabella swayed with it, her heart swelling with the rhythm, the sense of being part of something larger than herself.

Then Sofia’s hand found hers under the table, grip sudden, urgent. Isabella turned, startled. Sofia’s smile still curved her lips, but her eyes shone with unshed tears.

“I am afraid,” she whispered, her voice trembling beneath the noise of the feast. “Ho paura, Isabella. Non sono pronta. I am not ready.”

Isabella’s breath caught. She squeezed Sofia’s hand tighter, her heart aching at the vulnerability in her eyes. “No one is ever ready,” she murmured back, her words fierce but gentle. “But you are strong. I see it every day. And this child — he will grow with your strength.”

Sofia shook her head, a tear slipping free, quickly brushed away with the back of her hand. “I fear I will lose myself. That I will not be enough. That he will see me the way Alessandro looks at Giuliano — as a weakness.”

Isabella leaned closer, her voice steady. “Then he will see you differently. Because you will love him fiercely, and love is never weakness. It is the only thing that endures.”

Sofia’s breath shuddered, her lips pressing into a trembling smile. She whispered, “Grazie, sorella. Thank you, sister.”

The word struck Isabella’s heart like music. She blinked hard, swallowing the sudden rush of tears, and nodded, her grip never loosening.

The feast swelled louder around them — glasses raised, songs sung, bread broken. Giuliano’s laugh rang briefly above the crowd, low and rough, and Alessandro’s deep voice followed, stern even in cheer. Biscotto darted between tables, tail wagging furiously, stealing a sausage from a careless plate and sending children shrieking with delight.

Lanterns floated upward then, released by eager hands, drifting into the velvet night. Isabella tilted her head back, watching them rise — fragile globes carrying wishes into the sky. She closed her eyes and whispered one silently into the warm air: Let me belong. Let me stay.

When she opened them again, Giuliano was watching her across the table, his face lit by lantern glow, his gaze steady, unflinching. Her chest tightened, her hand still tangled with Sofia’s beneath the table.

The night carried on — music, laughter, lanterns drifting higher until they were indistinguishable from the stars. And beneath it all, Isabella felt her roots sinking deeper into this place, into these people, into a future she had not dared to imagine.