Chapter 13:

I look at the pictures I took last night with my phone. I replay the moment I told Claire the truth a million times and I ask myself if I could've said it differently. The moment I told her: 'I didn't want you to look at me differently', I think that's were I screwed up.

I didn't mean it that way. I should've chosen my words better. What I meant was, I didn't want her to see me as the poor rich kid. The only thing I managed was for her to see me as a liar, who didn't trust her.

I put my phone on the nightstand and stare up at the ceiling.

Thinking.

As much as I think I should give Claire at least a day to take it all in, I need to talk to her now. We are supposed to be flying to New Haven tomorrow and I need to know if she's still coming with me. I think I know the answer to that question, though. I can't blame her. Last night she found out that her boyfriend belongs to one of the richest families in the country.

Now that I remember, she knew who my parents were.

Of course she knew. Business is her world. There's not a single building in this country that doesn't have GlassTemp windows and there's not a single high society party that doesn't have desserts from Panificio Vernelli.

My father's name is Benjamin Grady. He is the CEO of GlassTemp, the highest producing glass company in the country and sixth in the world. My dad grew up in your everyday, working class American family. Since he was little, he displayed talent for business.

When he was 16 years old, he started working in his dad's garage shop. One day, a man in a XK-E 1961 Jaguar came in. This blew my father away, since only ratty, old cars arrived at my grandfather's shop. This man's car needed an oil change and some air for its wheels. My dad did it, since he was alone that day on the shop. The man paid my father, thanked him and left. Months went by and this man showed up again with another car, this time though, he didn't find my dad, but my grandfather Roger. The man asked for my dad and grandpa Roger called for him. My dad fixed his car and the man introduced himself as Colin Mader. He was the CEO of GlassTemp back in 1975. They soon developed a friendship. They had a grandfather-grandson kind of relationship.

In one of the many conversations they had, Mader asked my father what he aspired to be. My dad answered that he wanted to be a business man, that although he liked being a mechanic and was good at it, he wanted to be something more.

Mader saw something in my father, maybe himself. But soon after he offered him a job as his assistant during the summer. With his parents permission of course. When my father started working for him, he would listen, he would learn and little by little he started to show his true potential. He started working at GlassTemp as a simple assistant and ended up being the CEO.

My mum's story is a little different. She was born into a well off family. Not rich, but they lived pretty comfortable lives. My nonno Luca and nonna Francesca shared a love for baking. They would always make cannoli and tiramisu for themselves and share them with their friends and neighbours. They decided to open a bakery in Brooklyn, which is where they lived right after they got married. They named it, Panificio Vernelli. The bakery started to gain popularity and became well known in the area. A year after, my mother was born and my nonnos made the decision to move to New Haven. Even though they loved Brooklyn, they realised that it wasn't the quiet, completely safe place they wanted my mum to grow up in. So they closed the bakery and moved to New Haven.

Obviously, their love for baking never faded and they reopened the bakery there. It took a little longer than expected to gain a faithful client base and they struggled for a while, but soon they became the beloved bakers from the area.

I know it sounds like the typical family business story, but how is it that Panificio Vernelli became what it is today? Well, it all happened because of an idea nonno Luca had.

There was a 12 year-old boy named George. He worked in the bakery during the summers and on Saturday mornings. One day, his older brother knocked on my nonnos' door and gave them the bad news that George had been ran over by a car and was in bad shape in the hospital. The next day, they went to visit George, but the doctors weren't allowing visitors. They stayed in the hospital talking to George's parents and they told my nonnos how much George loved working at the bakery.

Unfortunately, George fell into a coma for 2 months. He woke up a week before Christmas, his favourite holiday. Knowing that the road of recovery was a long one for him, nonno came up with the idea of baking a huge cake for George and all the other patients on his floor. They baked a gigantic 4-tier cake, decorated with reindeers and a big, fat Santa to top it all.

George, of course, was ecstatic and everyone else in the hospital was feeling much like him. While cutting the cake, a man approached my nonna and introduced himself as Rupert Green. He thanked them both for baking a cake and putting a smile on his daughter's face, who was very much sick and hadn't smiled in a long time. He told them he was a reporter and if they wouldn't mind, he would like to take a picture and write an article on the local newspaper as a thank you to them. They accepted and as soon as that article came out, the bakery started getting a lot of attention. It eventually reached the ears of New Haven's high society and they started getting orders for birthday parties, brunches, weddings, you name it.

They were approached several times by investors, offering the money for expansion and many other business deals. They refused. For them, quality was the number one priority, not quantity. So they decided that Panificio Vernelli's New Haven store was going to be their only store.

If you want to eat Francesca and Luca Vernelli's famous tiramisu, you have to go to New Haven.

When my mum got into university, they already were pretty famous. All along the East Coast, to be more specific. She studied Business Administration in NYU and she was the one who, after graduating, made Panificio Vernelli famous all over the country. She had the idea of selling packaged goods in the bakery, which lead to chain supermarket stores wanting to sell those, which meant that Vernelli goods could be found from Connecticut to Hawaii. Then, that led to my mum convincing my nonnos of making television appearances and recipe book deals. You would think that rich people would lose interest in a business that had become, in a way, mainstream. But, since my nonnos never opened another bakery, if anyone wanted desserts from them, they had to fly them to wherever they were. Which made it even more appealing to rich people.

My parents met in the winter of 1978. Panificio Vernelli was baking a huge cake for GlassTemp. My mother was home from New York for Christmas and she had wanted to go with my nonnos because she wanted to see how what she was learning applied to the business. My father, as Colin Mader's assistant, had been put in charge of making sure everything was where it was supposed to be. So, while my nonnos and their assistants unloaded the food, my mum was sent to ask where they should put everything and that's when they met. My father told me the moment he saw my mum everything slowed down around him. He would always tell me she looked like an angel. Long, blonde hair, blue eyes and beautiful dimples when she smiled.

That night they talked and talked until the party was over. After a couple of months, my mum invited my dad to have dinner at her home. My nonnos admired my dad's ambition and the fact that he wasn't ashamed of his humble beginnings. They raised my mum as someone who should always respect people, no matter the size of their bank accounts. Those are values my parents taught Isabella and I. Two years later, I was born. My parents were 21 years old when they had me. I was an oopsie.

When my mother found out she was pregnant she had already flown back to New York to keep studying, so she broke the news to my dad via telephone. My dad was super excited. Of course back in the 80s, it was still common for women to get married and pregnant young. Well not that young, but still. But what wasn't common, was for women to continue going to university once they got pregnant. My mother was adamant she would not stop studying just because she was pregnant. She wanted her degree. When she voiced these thoughts to her parents, they couldn't have been prouder.

My dad wanted to be with my mum through the whole pregnancy. At the time, my dad was a part time student in a community college and kept working for Colin Mader. He talked to him and told him about me and let him know that he had made the decision to continue with his studies in New York. Mader congratulated him and told him that his hard work from all those years would not go unnoticed. He told him to come back with a degree and to apply for a proper job at GlassTemp when he moved back to New Haven.

So, they moved to a tiny apartment in Manhattan while they both studied arduously. My father took extra credits so he could finish his degree faster and on top of that, he worked. The dude was like superman. By the time my mum hit 8-months pregnant they flew back to New Haven to have me. When I was born, both my mum and dad had only one semester to go before completing their degrees. They decided my dad should get his degree in that moment, that way when my mum went back to university in six months, my dad would already be working. Everything turned out pretty good for them. Obviously.

The issues I have with my family came much later. But I can't think of that right now, it'll make me more depressed.

The issue I have right now, other than Claire probably hating my guts, is that I was drawing my strength from her. Now, I don't know where I'm going to get my strength from. I'm still flying to New Haven. I made a promise to Isabella and I am not breaking it. But, I'm not sure at all if I'll be able to see my parents.

Do I text her or do I knock on her door? She can't hide in her room all day; she knows I want to talk to her. Besides, it's a fight. Our first fight. This is a test on our relationship. At the end, everything will be good again. I hope.

I decide to text her.

*Can we talk? *

*Yes. *

*I'll come to you. *

I stand up from my bed and go to Claire's room. I knock and when she opens the door she looks exhausted. Probably got as much sleep as I did.

None.

"Come in."

I nod and step into the room. I stand awkwardly in the middle of it.

"Claire, I didn't mean what I said last night. I—"

"What? That I was a gold digger?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to!"

"Dammit, Claire! I didn't mean it like that! I worded it wrong. I didn't mean that you were going to take advantage of me. Of course I know you wouldn't. The reason I wasn't forthcoming about it is because I still have that insecurity about it. Me not telling you has nothing to do with you. It's me who's the problem."

Her face softens and hurt replaces the anger that was in it a minute ago.

"I'm not mad at you because you didn't tell me about your family. I'm mad, hurt really that you didn't trust me."

"I do trust you—"

"You say you do, but last night says differently, Owen."

"I told you, it has nothing to do with you, it's me—"

"Exactly. Which is why I'm not coming to New Haven with you tomorrow. I think you should take this week and really figure out if you truly trust me. I know you say you do, but maybe that's what you want and you're just making yourself believe that you do."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes. I need time to figure some things out too."

I nod and start walking towards the door. I turn the doorknob and look at Claire.

"I really am sorry."

"Stop apologizing because it doesn't change anything. I'm still going to be here when you come back."

"I know."

I turn to leave but Claire stops me.

"Owen? Don't shut your parents out. Keep your promise to Isabella."

I look at her for a minute, raise the corner of my mouth, nod and leave.

I don't go back to my room. I go to the hotel bar and drink my sorrows away. At some point, I decide that I need a change of scenery and I go to one of those bars that have an open mic. I choose a table at the back of the bar, open a tab and I keep the drinks coming and enjoy the music.

When I've had probably too many drinks, I pay the tab and start walking around beautiful Manhattan. A couple of hours later, I find myself in front of Phillip's apartment. He lives in Central Park West, so he has on his building one of those dudes with the long coat and the hat at the lobby.

"Good afternoon, my good man. Would you let Mr. Bentham know his brother from another mother is here?"

"Sir, it's 1am. Are you okay?"

"1am? Well, time flies when you're drunk. Could you please let Phillip know that Owen is here? Or, you know what? I'll just climb the stairs."

"Sir, I can't let you do that. Mr. Bentham has to give me the okay. And no offense sir, but I don't think you're in the best condition to climb 15 stories worth of stairs."

"Look, ah what's your name?"

I lean forward and read his nametag.

"Look, Kevin. I—"

"It's Derrin, sir."

"Okay, Kevin. I ran away from a dinosaur. Several times. I might be slightly drunk, but I can do stairs."

"Why don't you let me give Mr. Bentham a call?"

"Now wouldn't that save so much time?"

He picks up the intercom and dials Phillip's apartment number. He looks at me while he waits for the call to be answered.

"Mr. Bentham—Yes, sir. I apologize, but I have a man here named Owen looking for you…"

I lean forward and snatch the intercom from Kevin's hands.

"Brother! Let me in you son of a bitch! What? No! Yes, I will wait for you. See, I told you, Kevin. His brother."

I hand him back the intercom and turn around and start admiring the paintings on the wall.

I hear the elevator doors open.

"What the hell, man? It's 1am."

"Well, I was drinking alone and realised that was quite depressing, so I came looking for you so you could drink with me!"

"Jesus, what happened? Come on, brother. Let's go upstairs."

"Ha! See, Kevin. I am his brother."

"Sorry, Derrin. He didn't give you a lap dance, did he?"

"No, Mr. Bentham. He didn't."

"Good."

Phillip half carries me to the elevator. The doors open directly to his apartment and he drops me on the couch.

"Owen, what happened? You don't drink like this."

"Well, Phil. When the heart hurts, you numb it with alcohol."

"What do you mean? Did something happen with Claire?"

I sit up straight and look at him.

"When we were coming out of the restaurant, we ran into Asshole Rowbotham and his witch of a wife."

"Shit. So, he basically ratted you out to Claire?"

"Ding, ding, ding, ding! That's the correct answer! She's not longer coming with me to New Haven today and she basically told me we needed a break."

He sits down next to me and exhales deeply.

"Owen, she hasn't broken up with you. She just needs time to process it. That's it."

"I promised her I wouldn't fail her. She's right. She trusted me and I didn't trust her. She deserves someone better."

"For fuck's sake, don't give that depressing bullshit! You made a mistake by not telling her sooner. So, fix it. Getting drunk and knocking on my door at 1am is not going to fix anything."

"You're a little aggressive this late at night, Phil." I rub my face. "I don't know how. I think she doesn't trust me anymore."

"You'll figure something out, Owen. You always do. Maybe this break is not necessarily a bad thing. How long are you supposed to stay in New Haven?"

"One week."

"Okay, well there you go. A week is more than enough time for you to figure something out."

"What if I don't?"

He hits me in the head. "Moron, I'm trying to be positive here!"

I rub the back of my head. "Sorry. Alcohol does that to me."

"You always fight for the things and people you love. So, you're going to get on that plane later today and you're going to respect Claire's wishes. You got it? Or do you need me to slap you around a bit?"

"No, no. I got it."

We sit in comfortable silence for a little bit. Phil's right. I'm going home later today and I'm going to do what Claire asked me to do.

"Phil?"

"Yes, brother?"

"I'm gonna throw up."

"No! Not in my expensive carpet, motherfucker!"

He manages to get a trashcan in my hands just in time for me to spill my guts out.

"We need to get all that alcohol out of your system. I'm going to get you some water."

"Don't you mean coffee?"

"That's a myth. You get alcohol out off of you by peeing. Which is not going to happen unless you drink water. Plus, keeping you hydrated is going to help reduce the headache you're going to get when you wake up later."

"Yes, sir." I look at him. "Phil? Thanks, man."

"What are brothers for?"

He takes me to the guest bedroom and drops off a 6-pack of water on the nightstand. I take a bottle and down it. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I'm out like a light.

"Wake up. Wake up."

"Shh."

I turn around and put the pillow over my head.

"Don't make me throw water at you."

"Shh."

Why do I even doubt his word at this point? I feel the pillow being yanked from me and a big splash of ice cold water hit my face.

"Ahh! Shit! Did it have to be ice cold?"

"If it would've been lukewarm, then it wouldn't have had the same effect. How are you feeling?"

I sit up and wipe the water from my face.

"A bit of a headache there. But it's not as bad as it could've been, I guess."

"See? Drinking water helps. Here, I brought you some advil."

"Thanks."

I gulp down the pills and look at the time. I try to ignore my lock screen.

"Oh, shit. I have to be in the airport in an hour."

"Hence, the ice cold water. Robert is waiting for you downstairs. He's going to take you to the hotel and then to the airport."

"One day I'm going to truly repay you for everything you do for me."

"If you don't knock on my door again at 1am again, I'll consider that as payment enough."

He walks me to the elevator and I hug him goodbye.

"Mother of…! I know you're kinda tight on time brother, but you gotta take a shower. Else you're going to kill everyone in the plane."

I raise my arm and smell my armpit. Oh. God! Yes, I'll definitely take a shower.

"Thanks again, man."

"Yeah, yeah. Go, before you miss the plane."

I reach the lobby and give Kevin—Derrin a quick apology and exit the building. Robert greets me and takes me to the hotel. I debate on whether I should say something to Claire. I decide not to, things are still too fresh.

Thank God I travel light. I have my bags ready in no time, and I take a quick shower. I go down to the lobby, check out and go to the airport.

I arrive just as the passengers are being called to the gate. I show my boarding pass and get into the plane. At this point, I'm not even going to wish for things to turn out fine. It's backfired on me already. What must happen will happen, I guess.

The flight from Manhattan to New haven is 40 minutes long. Not enough time to settle my nerves. I think of the things I want to achieve during this trip. I want to spend time with my sister, spend time with my nonna and figure out myself. I don't need to figure out my feelings for Claire. I know what they are. I love her. I've known that since that day at the pizzeria.

I think part of figuring out myself, involves my parents. Claire told me not to shut my parents out. Maybe it's time for me to actually listen to what they have to say. Clearing the air with them will take this load I've had on my back for far too many years. I miss them so much. My parents are really good people, they don't deserve what I've done to them. It's time to make things right.

The plane lands not too long after I've made up my mind. I look out the window and sigh.

"Welcome home, Owen."

I stand up and pull out my back from the compartment and start walking down the aisle. I pick up my other bag from the baggage claim and head out. The moment I look out into the crowd of people, I see my sister. A little taller than I remember her, but just as beautiful. She looks like our mother, the only difference is her hair is not as blonde. Hers is a few shades darker.

Her eyes land on me and her whole face immediately lights up. We haven't physically seen each other in 4 years. She runs towards me and launches herself at me, just like when we were kids.

"Owen! Finally you big bag of meat!"

"Isa! I've missed you, sis."

I kiss her on the cheek and let go of her. She looks at me for a second, and then smiles. She starts looking around me and then I remember who she's looking for.

"Where's Claire? I thought she was coming."

"I told her about the family. She didn't take it so well."

"Did you drop the bomb on her aggressively like I told you not to do?"

"No! We ran into Rowbotham—"

"Say no more. I hate that asshole. Come on. Let's go home."

We walk into the parking lot and Isabella pops the trunk of the car open with a button on her key.

"That's you car?"

"Yeah, last year's birthday present. I would've chosen something more classic but I wasn't about to look the gift horse on the mouth. It's a good car."

We get into Isabella's Range Rover Sport and drive home.

"Oh! We haven't told nonna you're here. We are going to have dinner at her house. You feel up to it?"

"Of course! You know I never turn down a chance to see nonna Francesca."

"I thought so. It'll be a good distraction, huh?"

"Yeah."

She turns down the music and looks at me sideways for a moment, then looks at the road again.

"I don't think things are as bad as you think they are, you know?"

"What?"

"With Claire. If she were like the others, she would've been all over you the moment she found out about our family. The fact that she's not here, tells me she's not like that. She hasn't broken up with you either. Right?"

"Right."

"Which means she doesn't think you're not worth fighting for. What were her exact words?"

"That she was hurt I didn't trust her enough to tell her the truth about our family."

"And what was her exact reason for not coming?"

"She said I should take this week to figure out if I truly trust her. She also said she needed to figure some things out herself."

"Of course. It's obvious."

"What's obvious?"

"She wants you to trust her, Owen."

"Yeah, I know. That's what she told me."

"No! This whole week is a trust exercise. Did she say anything else?"

"She said she was still going to be there when I came back and to not break my promise to you. Also, to not push mum and dad away."

"See? She wants you to trust that she's going to be there when you come back. I'm assuming you told her about all the people who used you and threw you away like a dirty napkin?"

"Gee, thanks."

"Did you?"

"Yeah, I did."

"She's not like them. That's what she wants you to understand."

I look at Isabella. It took her all but 5 minutes to deconstruct Claire and she hasn't even met her!

"Stop looking at me like that. It's a theory. I could be wrong."

"Okay, Einstein. What does she have to figure out during this week? I'm the one with the issues here."

She thinks for a minute.

"Okay, let's see. You told me she was a workaholic. She worked on a small island. Does she have family?"

"Yeah, a sister and 2 nephews. That's all I know."

"Does she have a good relationship with them?"

"She just re-established a relationship with them. Again, she was a workaholic, working on an island, not the best recipe for family happiness."

"Maybe she's just trying to figure out why is it that she cares so much. As far as we know, she hasn't been in any relationships in a while. Maybe she's just forgotten what it feels like. To have someone."

Mother of God! Now I'm really glad I came home.

"Are you secretly studying psychology or something?"

"The English love their philosophers. I spent a lot of time reading Plato, Ziegler, Kant and Bentham. It apparently unlocked a new section of my brain."

"Oxford did you good, I see. I guess that could be it, though. It would've never occurred to me that she might not know what she's feeling."

I stay silent, processing everything Isabella just told me. It isn't until I feel the car stop, that I realise we're home.

"Ready?"

I nod. I open the door and grab my bags and walk inside the house.

Everything looks the same except for a few changes here and there. I put my bags down and look at a picture hanging on the wall of the four of us.

"Owen?"

I turn around and come face to face with my mother for the first time in 11 years.