7. Stefania

Isit in the middle of my apartment, the only place I've lived that's been entirely mine, and I can't bring myself to put my stuff into boxes.

Rationally, I should be packing right now. I'm supposed to marry Davide tomorrow morning, and after that, we're taking a flight out to Chicago, and we'll be out there for at least a few months before we visit here again. That means if I don't pack up my stuff, it'll be left behind—though my brother very kindly offered to continue to pay my rent for a while just so I have a place to store everything I'm not bringing. At the very least, I need clothes and toiletries and all that kind of stuff.

But since I'm not in a rational mood, I'm just sitting here staring at the wall and trying to compose a text to Giorgia.

Hey, babe! Getting married to a stranger because his family needs guns and my family needs drugs, and I'm moving to Chicago, it was great knowing you!

There's really no easy way to explain the situation to her, and since she's not a part of the families, I genuinely have no clue how much I can even say.

Which leaves me in this hellish position of either ghosting on my closest friend or trying to explain something to her that she'll never be able to understand.

I'm deep in a depression hole and thinking about using one of those chatbot AI things to compose this message when someone knocks at my door. I stare and wait for them to go away, but they knock again, and I'm really not in the mood for this shit, but it might be important. I climb to my feet and shuffle over.

"I'm probably the last person you want to see right now," Maddie says, looking really sheepish. "But I figured you needed to talk to someone, and here I am."

I stare at Renzo's wife. She joined the family under weird circumstances a while back—she was Renzo's office manager, then they made some marriage deal, and now here they are—and while it wasn't exactly an arranged marriage, their relationship started out purely as a business deal. But they fell in love, had a baby, and ever since, she and I have been close, and I can't imagine the Rossi family without having her around.

Which is why I yank her into my apartment and hug her tight as all my emotions slam right into me like a sack full of bricks.

"Okay, sweetie, okay," she says, rubbing my back as I let rip and cry right into her shoulder, not even trying to hold back. I mean, screw it, why bother pretending like this is fine? If anyone understands how I feel right now, it's her.

She gets me down onto the couch, rummages around in my kitchen, finds some wine, pours two glasses, and joins me once I've calmed down enough to form a coherent sentence. I wipe my face with some tissues and drink half the glass in two big gulps before leaning my head against the cushions and groaning.

"This is such a mess," I say and close my eyes against more tears. "Seriously, Mads, I'm marrying some random guy and he's dragging me to Chicago. Can you imagine? Chicago? I'd rather bury myself in freaking Delco than go out to Chicago."

"I hear it's a cool city," she says and puts a hand on my knee when I give her a death stare. "I'm sorry, I really, really am. I know this isn't easy."

"Easy? This fucking sucks. Hard is one thing, but this is, like, nightmarish. What am I even going to do out there?"

"I don't know," she admits and runs a hand through her hair, scratching her scalp. It's her nervous gesture, and I can tell she's pretty upset about this even if she's not saying it out loud. Which she really can't—this is Renzo's deal, and she's Renzo's wife, and it just wouldn't be a good look if she went behind her husband's back and talked shit about his decisions. I get it, united front, whatever. Still sucks.

"I'm sure you noticed, but I haven't exactly been a great family member lately—" I laugh and rub my face with one hand. "God, I've missed so much. I barely even know Carlo's new wife, which I really freaking regret, because now I'll never get the chance."

"Don't worry about Alana, you'll have plenty of time to get close with her."

"Yeah? You think that'll happen when I spend all my time in freaking Chicago? They make deep dish, Mads. Deep dish is disgusting."

She wrinkles her nose. "Can't argue with you there."

"And it's not even Alana, it's everything. I've been trying to find my own way for months and months now. I got this apartment, I've been working hard at the firm, I pay all my own bills, I'm doing the strong independent lady routine, and now here comes Renzo with this random fucking Davide guy to drag me back into the life. It sucks and I don't want it."

She nods and chews her lip, but says nothing, because what's there to say? She can apologize all she wants, but this isn't her fault and no amount of sympathy is going to change the undeniable fact of my existence. I'm going to marry Davide tomorrow and I'm going to move to Chicago.

"I can't fix any of that," Maddie says quietly as she looks around the room. My half-built boxes are lying in a jumbled mess nearby. I haven't even folded them together yet. "But I can help you get ready. I mean, you still need to do some packing, right? Let's get a suitcase and fill it with what you'll need for the next week, then you can call me or text me or whatever, and I'll mail you whatever else you want. Does that work?"

I take a deep breath through my nose, because damn, this is Maddie at her finest. She's the gardener in the family, but really, she's the spine of the whole damn organization. Without her, I think Renzo would've crumbled a long time ago, and everyone else would've resorted to bickering and complaining. During the last few years of Mom's life when her Alzheimer's was pretty bad, Maddie was one of the few people that could get through to her, and everyone owes her a huge debt for that.

And of course, all that shit makes me cry again, and Maddie rubs my back while I get it out of my system. Once the crying's done, we get to work just like she planned, and when we're done, I have enough stuff put together that I won't be completely lost when I get out to Chicago. It's not much, but it's a little armor against what's coming.

"I know you're feeling lost right now," she says as we walk to the front door. It's late and I should get some sleep, even though I doubt that's happening. "But you'll find your way. I mean, you built all this, right?"

"I still had family help," I admit, even though it doesn't feel good.

"You'll always have family help, and you won't be alone out there, right? I mean, I know you don't really know your husband or anyone in his family, but Renzo wouldn't marry you off to some abusive piece of shit or whatever. Your life isn't ending, you're just starting over. You'll find something new to occupy yourself out there."

I lean against the wall and groan. "That's the thing. It's not about finding something to do, it's always been about being my own person. I've been a Rossi girl for so long, and I just started to feel like I was figuring out who I am without my last name defining everything about me. And now, it's back to square one."

Maddie opens the door but pauses, her lips pressed together, and looks back at me. She tilts her head like she's considering something. "Maybe you're looking at this the wrong way. You want to see who you are without the Rossi last name? Well, tomorrow you're going to be a Bianco, and nobody knows who the hell Stefania Bianco is, not even you."

I give her a flat stare. "I don't feel comforted."

She laughs and kisses my cheek. "You want freedom? You got it now. You get to choose who Stefania Bianco is, not anyone else, right? And no matter what, we're all here for you. Me, Molly, Allegra, even Alana. Your brothers too, though I bet you don't want to hear that right now. We love you, Stefania."

"Love you too," I grumble and give her one last hug before she departs and leaves me alone.

Who is Stefania Bianco? As I go through my bedtime routine in my own apartment one last time, I keep wondering. Does she have a job? Does she want kids one day? Does she get along with her husband and her husband's family? Does she like Chicago (doubtful)? Will she grudgingly eat deep dish pizza (fuck no)?

It's a small comfort, but I'm desperate for anything to keep me going, and I'll cling on to that for now.