The bright sun beams through my window; the lace curtains do little to mute the light, making it hard to fall back to sleep. I can use the extra rest; last night was a lot of work.

We didn't arrive at my great-uncle's vineyard until two in the morning. Nonna immediately put me to work, delivering towels and extra pillows to the six villas that Nicky and The Remnants will stay in for the next few days. The band and Nicky sat on the patio with my Zio Antonio while Nonna served them samples of wine. They listened to Antonio and Nonna's sibling banter and their stories about growing up in the Italian countryside. They had a mini-party while I worked my ass off.

Nonna had refused to let me have a villa even though there were four more on the property. She insisted I stay in the house with her and Antonio and help her in the kitchen. She's reverting to the old country way—the guests and Nicky get to relax, and I serve them in the kitchen. This brief vacation is already lacking the relaxation I hoped for.

"Ariella, it is time to wake up and help with breakfast." Nonna's words carry up the stairs, and I groan, throwing the covers over my head.

"Ariella!"

I grab my phone from the nightstand; it's 6:30 in the morning, and I've had three and a half hours of sleep. This woman is trying to work me to death.

I toss the covers to the side and shuffle down the stairs into the kitchen.

Dressed in a black dress with white polka dots, Nonna stands at the counter cracking eggs into a large mixing bowl. She brushes from her cheek a wisp of hair that has come loose from her French twist and glances at me. "Absolutely not, Ariella. You will return to your room and dress for the day, please. I brought you some clothes and hung them in the closet."

I throw my hands to the side, gawking at her. There is nothing wrong with my tank top and running shorts.

She shoots me a steely glare.

Oh my God, she's such a cruel dictator early in the morning.

Even though what I'm wearing is super comfortable, I can find some excitement in having more of my clothes from home. I've spent weeks in the same outfits, and I'm ready for a change.

Opening the closet door, my jubilant mood fades. There are only dresses hanging in the small closet, and an array of shoes—none of which are my tennis shoes. I look in the dresser drawers finding only my underwear. That sneaky woman hijacked my luggage; I don't even have my ten pairs of jeans and shirts. All that remains are the toiletries and my makeup sitting on the antique dressing table.

With a sigh, I shift through the dresses. Everything is lace, floral, pink, and...short. These are the dresses that Nonna's bought me over the years; they were all shoved in the back of my closet at home!

I settle for a dark floral print dress and head for the bathroom. A blow dryer, brush, and hair products sit on the sink with a note written on the mirror in what looks like black eyeliner. Do your hair, Ariella. Love, Nonna. If I did not love that woman so much, I'd march down to the kitchen and strangle her to death.

Forty-five minutes later, I return to the kitchen with my hair pulled back in a side French braid and a dress that is too short. Nonna looks up at me through her eyelashes as she continues to frost some pastry...and smiles.

Antonio sits at the kitchen table with the newspaper and a cup of coffee. He comes to visit Nonna once a year, and I've always enjoyed his company. He doesn't say a lot, but when he does, he's hilarious.

I walk over and kiss him on the cheek. "Good morning, Zio."

He gazes at me over the rim of his coffee cup like I said nothing. I laugh and ruffle his thick gray hair. "Buongiorno, Zio."

He smiles, returning my greeting. "Buongiorno, mia nipote."

"All right, Ariella, get to work," Nonna says, smacking her palm with a wooden spoon. "Get the plates and utensils and take them to the table outside."

I grab a wicker basket from the counter and place colorful mismatched plates and coffee mugs inside. While gathering the silverware, Nonna pulls at the hair around my face, freeing strands from my braid.

"What are you doing?" I dodge her hand.

"Your hair is pretty, and you have it tied back." Her slim fingers swiftly work, placing each strand how she wants it.

Shaking my head, I pick up the basket and leave her at the counter.

The sun is bright, and the slight breeze carries the smells of fresh-cut grass and ripe grapes. Singing birds join the squeaking of the hinges of the villa doors. One by one, everyone gathers in the yard. I set the last large plate of breakfast food on the wooden picnic table, and Nonna hands me the final touch—a Mason jar filled with wildflowers.

The smell of flakey pastries, fluffy eggs, and colorful fruits catch the breeze, and my stomach growls. Nonna won't let anyone eat until everyone is seated at the table. I tap my fingers on the wooden surface with my chin resting in my palm. I've been up for hours and these slackers are taking forever.

The five members of The Remnants greet my grandmother, calling her Nonna, and kiss her on the cheek. They circle Antonio and listen as he talks about the vineyard and the lemon orchards beyond it. The only person missing is Nicky...as usual.

I pluck a strawberry from the plate in front of me and pop it in my mouth.

"Ariella James Carmichael, you know better. Keep your hands out of the food until Nicholas gets here," Nonna scolds from across the yard.

I chew the berry, savoring it. I don't know when my brother will grace us presence; we might die of hunger before he shows up.

The surrounding scenery is gorgeous. As a little girl, Mom and Dad brought us here almost every summer. Nicky and I played hide-n-seek in the lemon trees, and every afternoon, Mom and I walked past the vineyard to a field where the wildflowers grew and picked them for the table centerpiece. It's strange being here without her.

The group laughs in unison with my uncle, pulling me from my reminiscing. Each of the band's members is uniquely attractive, but Kade stands out. His hair catches in the breeze, creating an onyx halo, and his smile is radiant. He glances my way, and I'm surprised that the grin doesn't waver.

"So confusing," I mumble as my stomach growls. I longingly stare at the food within arm's reach until I'm saved from Nonna's wrath; Nicky runs up the path through the vineyard. He pulls his shirt on over his head, walking straight to Nonna and giving her a kiss.

"Sorry, I'm late. I feel like I've not slept in ages," he says.

"No worries, mio nipote. You work hard. You take as much time as you need. We are in no rush."

Is she kidding? The man could set this whole vineyard on fire, and she would say no worries, mio nipote.

Nonna guides everyone to the table, pointing to where they should sit. Kade slides down the bench next to me. I busy myself with placing a napkin on my lap and try to ignore the way Kade's long leg brushes against mine. "Good morning, Ariella," he says. The smile I saw just a few minutes ago still graces his face.

I peek at him from the corner of my eye and say, "Good morning, Kade."

I try not to over-analyze what is going on. Kade is prone to run hot and cold, and I don't want to get my hopes up. If I give it just a few more minutes, he will flash me stink-eye or whispering obscenities into my ear. I pray it doesn't happen, but chances are good it will.

I'm astonished; breakfast finishes with no change in Kade. We say little to each other, but he doesn't flip. He even passes me a basket of pastries as soon as I ask. It feels good having him acknowledge my existence without his normal contempt.

I finish the dishes, and Nonna comes into the kitchen with a blanket in her hand. "Lunch will be simple today, and I can handle it on my own. You should go to the orchard and relax," she says handing me the blanket and a picnic basket from the counter. "I packed you a lunch, and there is a book inside."

Getting away from the house and spending some time by myself is exactly what I need. I take the items and head for the citrus field. It's cool in the shade of the trees, and I search for a break in the leafy canopy that allows the sun's rays to shine to the ground. I lay out the blanket, lean against the trunk of a tree, and pull out the book Nonna has packed for me—Romeo and Juliet.

"Thanks, Nonna. Let's try to kill me with romance when my boyfriend is across an ocean, and you confiscated my phone while I was in the shower."

I make it halfway through the second act of the play when my eyelids grow heavy. I curl up on the blanket and steady my breathing, drifting off. But my rest is short-lived. I bolt up, leaning on my elbow at the sound of crunching leaves.

A figure steps out from the cropping of trees and stops. "Sorry, I didn't know anyone was out here," Kade says.