“I hope they haven’t exaggerated,” he replied.
Valeria gave a small smile and sat down. She glanced at her mother with a questioning look.
“You look beautiful,” Elena said naturally. “Red was the right choice.”
“You’re the one who told me a thousand times never to wear red to a wedding.”
“Sometimes I make mistakes,” Elena replied. “It’s rare—but it happens.”
Something warm stirred in Marco’s chest as he listened. There was an intimacy in the way mother and daughter spoke—years of shared history folded into just a few words.
Elena poured more tea.
“My mother says you’ve known Daniel since college,” Valeria said.
“For far too many years,” Marco replied lightly. “He’s one of the few people who, at forty, is still essentially the same as he was at twenty-two. I find that… reassuring.”
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