Her father blinked, genuine shock registering on his face. He brushed a hand through his hair, the mostly gray strands slipping through his fingers and springing back into place. He’d been a redhead, too, many moons ago. As a young girl she’d loved that they shared such a distinctive feature, like it was proof that she was his daughter. Proof her young heart had desperately needed when he acted as though she meant nothing.

“You know that your mother and I weren’t planning to have children, but that doesn’t mean I regret it.”

“Don’t you? I can’t remember a time when you and Mum didn’t fight or say horrible things to each other when you thought I couldn’t hear.”

His thick brows wrinkled. “Your mother and I should never have gotten married. We did it to provide for you, but I fear it only made your childhood harder.”

“But then you both left, and you got remarried.” The words tumbled like an avalanche. “You moved on…from me.”

“I never moved on from you, and neither did your mother.”

Libby’s head pounded, the pain from her lonely childhood coursing through her body as fresh as it was when she found out her mother was having another child. A child who would have the happy life and the happy parents she’d been denied.

“Yes, you did. You moved away and I had to live with mum and her new husband. Then she sent me to you when she got pregnant, like I was being replaced. Instead of being my dad you sent me away as well!”

“Boarding school was a good option for you. I knew it would set you up for success. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you around.” He shook his head as though she was talking gibberish. “You had so much potential, I wanted you to harness it. I wanted you to do great things.”

“And to reach my potential I have to go back to med school?”

Silence. “What’s the point of making flavored alcohol?”

Libby blinked. No one had ever asked her that before. The cold creep of doubt coiled in the pit of her stomach, winding its way up and over her heart.

“My product is fun, it’s girlie. It celebrates women.”

“By getting them drunk on cheap toxic cordials?”

She reeled as if he’d slapped her across the face.

“If you finished med school you could save people’s lives, Libby. Isn’t that a more worthy dream to have?”

She knew that her business was so much more than her father would ever see. She’d already drawn up plans to use her business plan to help other women realize their dream of working for themselves, of being financially independent. Her chest squeezed.

How could she ever show other women how to be independent when she lived in her father’s house and had a fake boyfriend? In her desperation to succeed she’d lost sight of why she wanted to run her own business in the first place.

“I understand I’m living in your house, and I’m grateful for having a roof over my head. But that doesn’t mean you get to control me or choose my fate.” She squared her shoulders and sucked in a deep breath. “Your dream is not my dream. I hope one day you can accept that.”

It shouldn’t get to her—she’d seen him belittle her mother a thousand times before—but it hurt as much as if he’d kicked her to the ground. She had no hope of pleasing him, not now. Not ever.

Which was precisely the reason she’d never put herself in that position again. It was easy to avoid being hurt if she did her own thing, if she lived life for herself. Alone.

People couldn’t hurt you if you kept them at a distance.

Paul carried box after box out to the car; who knew there could be so much “stuff” to take to a wedding. Everything had been delivered to his parents’ house, and he was doing his brotherly duty to help get it all to the vineyard where the wedding would be held. Bonbonnière, place cards, table decorations, and God only knew what else.

He was sure, despite his limited experience, that the key to a happy marriage wasn’t finding the perfect font for the seating lists.

“You look very deep in thought.” His mother appeared beside him holding a small clear box with the wedding cake topper. She leaned in to his boot and tucked it into a carton containing other random bits and pieces.

“I was wondering if all weddings require three cars full of material items. I would have thought the bride and groom would be enough.” He packed the last box in and checked to make sure everything was secure. The last thing he needed was to break two hundred tiny bottles of vodka.

“It’s easy to get caught up in the details,” she said, smiling wistfully. “Our wedding cake had over a hundred individual flowers made out of icing. It looked so beautiful.”

“Yes, but did it taste good?”

“Who knows? I was so nervous I didn’t eat a thing all night. I almost fainted after we got back to the hotel because I was so hungry.”

“What a waste.”

She patted his arm and shook her head. “It wasn’t a waste. I wouldn’t change a thing if I had to do it over again.”

She hovered, her hands fidgeting with the fine gold chain at her neck. The cross dangling from it glinted in the afternoon light, winking at him as if it had a secret. That could only mean one thing. She had something important to say.

“Spit it out, Ma.”

“I’m really glad you and Libby are getting engaged.” Her eyes glimmered, her fingers fluttering at her neck. “It makes me so happy to see my boys finding love.”

Shit. He’d been avoiding this conversation with her ever since Libby had confessed her little white lie…well, her small lie amongst a much bigger one.

“She wasn’t supposed to say anything—it’s not official yet.” He thrust his fingers through his hair and tried to come up with a way to get out of talking to his mother about it. “Anyway, this is Des and Gracie’s weekend. I don’t want to steal their thunder.”

“You’re not. Des is so happy for you.”

He sighed. “You told him? I thought Libby said you’d promised to keep it a secret.”

Her lips pulled up into a sheepish smile. “It’s just one person.”

“So you didn’t tell Dad then? Or Zia Marcella?” He raised a brow. “Or Mrs. Lawson from down the street?”

“I didn’t tell Mrs. Lawson,” she admitted. “But yes, I told your father and Zia Marcella. I can’t help it, I’m so excited.”

“You promised Libby and then you went against your word.”

“Oh, do you think she’ll be mad?” His mother looked genuinely stricken. “I thought it wouldn’t matter if you were planning it already.”

It wouldn’t, if they were in a real relationship or had any intention of ever getting married. But they’d be splitting up in a few days’ time…just as soon as the wedding was over and his business idea had come to fruition.

“She won’t be mad.” He couldn’t make his mother feel guilty when he was the one lying and fooling everyone.

“Good. Because I have a gift for her.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

A cold trickle of fear ran down his spine. “What is that?”

She opened the box and amongst the cushy interior sat a band of diamonds. Each stone was shaped like a double-ended teardrop, the gaps dotted with tiny red rubies, making the ring look more like a wreath than a typical wedding ring.

“This belonged to my great grandmother,” she said, tracing a finger over it. “I’ve been saving it for when you found the right girl.”

“You never showed me this when I was with Sadie.” The words stuck in his throat.

“You never said you were going to marry her.”

“Technically I haven’t asked Libby yet, either.” At least there was one thing he could say without lying. “And why didn’t you give it to Des?”

“I know it probably seems like I’m hard on you all the time, but I was like you when I was younger.” His mother wrapped her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life and your nonno was always frustrated with me because I wanted to explore and see the world. He just wanted me to settle down.”