"If she could only forgive him," Angie adds, after a couple of minutes of silence.
"How did you manage to forgive him?"
"Like I had a choice," she grunts. "I was sixteen when Dad decided to bring us back home from boarding school. I couldn't move in with Chiara."
"Did you want to?"
"Of course, I did!" she exclaims loudly. "I was mad at Dad too. But when I started living with him, I saw how depressed he was, and then I realized that he probably just couldn't take care of us properly after Mom's death, and that's why he sent us away. I tried to convince Chiara, but she didn't want to listen. I'm sure she would forgive Dad too if she only could come and give him a chance…"
If she only could come…
Those words stick in my brain, and now I'm wondering what I can do to help.
"Do you know another enjoyable way to relax?" I ask playfully and ease my hands from her head to her shoulder, and then down to her breasts, squeezing them a little, just teasing her.
She turns to me with a sly smile on her face. "I thought you'd never ask."
Chapter Eighteen
Angie
One Month Later
It's been four months since I started dating Ricardo. Four months and one day, to be precise, since the day we met at the restaurant.
Yesterday we celebrated our small anniversary. I was expecting him to buy me something symbolic, like new lingerie with the stockings he likes so much, since we agreed that he'll no longer spoil me with expensive gifts. Still he, as always, exceeded all my expectations.
Ricardo rented the whole Aerodynamics Center and gifted me a “space costume,” which is what the workers call it. It looked like a beekeeper’s outfit, but I definitely felt like an astronaut wearing it.
The aero tube is a huge round room where powerful air blows from underneath and lifts you up. You don’t get much height, but it felt like I was flying with a parachute—which I’ve always wanted to do but didn’t dare.
Too bad Ricardo couldn't do it with me because he's afraid of heights, but he patiently waited until I’d played enough, which I did only after I felt nauseous.
Last month was incredible. It was a fairy tale come to life, if not more. I agreed to move in with Ricardo, and we managed somehow to fit all the stuff I needed into his small apartment without cluttering it. We haven't found the house for us to move into yet, mostly because of me. I don't really want to search. I love the place we have now. We fell in love there, and I just can't let it go that quickly. It's not time yet.
We've spent all our days working. I'm in the company and Ricardo’s with his father. I don't know what exactly they do now, though I'm sure there's a lot of work, of course, but Ricardo didn't buy that vineyard he wanted to have. The owner said he would sell it only to the person who could take care of it himself. He doesn't want to sell it to a massive corporation like Brandini's wine.
Unfortunately, Ricardo couldn't promise that seller that he would stay in Tuscany and take care of that winery by himself because he has a huge company to control. He has so much work every day that sometimes after I fall asleep, he's still working, and then he’s up and working again when I wake.
I'm not complaining about his schedule—I have my own, a very tight one, to be honest. Since we expanded our company, we now have three times more clients than we used to, which makes me incredibly happy but also very busy. Sometimes things get out of hand at the most inopportune moment because we’re still learning how it all works, but we patiently solve our issues and move on.
The only thing that still bothers me is that he isn't telling me when he's moving back to London. He also didn't ask me to come with him next time he goes. I'm just waiting impatiently for what he’s going to tell me, but he doesn't talk about it at all.
The best thing about living together is spending every night with each other: cuddling, making love, talking to each other indefinitely, sometimes until sunrise, when your eyes are so heavy you fall asleep in the middle of a conversation.
We haven't fought even once since the day I told Ricardo I thought I might be pregnant. He never mentioned it again, and neither did I. And no matter how many hours I work a day, sometimes till the late evening, he always picks me up and drives me home.
"Good morning, mi amore," says my dad, entering my office and interrupting my thoughts. He's wearing a beautiful navy suit, a white shirt and a brown tie.
"Wow, Dad, you look amazing." I smile widely and stand up to give him a kiss to both cheeks.
I see Dad at work every day, but we barely speak to each other because he's always swamped and so am I.
"Thank you, darling. I bought it just yesterday. The guy in the store told me I look fifty-five tops wearing this suit, so I paid the eight hundred euro then and there." He laughs, and I do too.
"You deserve it, Dad," I say, still smiling, but I'm serious: he works too hard and rarely treats himself. "And the guy in the store was right."
He smiles even bigger, and I realize that this sincere happy smile is precisely the reason he looks younger. He's finally happy again. We both are.
"You deserve some treats, too." He smiles proudly, obviously enjoying the compliments. "Let me buy you something special as well."
I roll my eyes and give him an are you serious? look, not saying anything.
"I just want to reward you for your efforts," he insists. "You worked so hard to make this all happen and you deserve a reward."
"Dad, what are you talking about? Are you going to raise my salary?" I raise an eyebrow.
He can't seriously mean it, and even if he does, I'm not gonna take advantage of his good mood. He can't raise my salary each time he feels happy.
"We agreed we wouldn't squander money until we can finally pay the loan for the machines in full," I remind him, "And, to be honest, I don't even need money. I haven't spent a cent since I moved in with Ricardo."
"I'm not talking about raising your salary, honey," he continues, "but how about I buy you something you need?"
"Like what? A new bag?" I laugh.
"A new car."
I'm speechless right now. Is he serious? He bought himself a suit and he wants to give me a car?
"A car?" I clarify, though I know I heard him perfectly.
"Yes, a new one, a bigger one," he says easily and looks at me as if he just offered to buy me a cup of coffee. "You need it! Sometimes you deliver fabric samples to our clients' offices when they can't come here."
"Dad, how many samples do you think I bring?" I laugh again because of how ridiculous this is.
"Honey, your car is too old, it doesn't fit our new status as a profitable company."
"Oh, really? And which one would be perfect for me?" I tease him. No way am I going to accept a gift like that.
"I think a new Lexus LX will be perfect." As he says it, my jaw drops.
"A Lexus…" I repeat. I'm speechless.
My salary is around sixty thousand per year, and now he wants me to have a hundred-thousand-euro car.