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“I hate him,” Valentina said suddenly.
Diana’s voice wavered. “Don’t say that, honey. Hate is a terrible thing. And you love your father. I know you do.”
Her chest seized with memories of raising Valentina. For so much of it, the three of them had been on the road, traveling across the world, cooking in fabulous restaurants, and trying to instill a love of culture, music, art, and literature in their darling daughter. By the time Valentina hit twelve or thirteen, she ached for the normality of other pre-teen's lives. She wanted a schedule, a best friend, and one single boring day. She wanted space to figure herself out.
Diana and Ryan had half laughed, half cried at this. “I grew up with the most boring of lives!” Diana had said. “I wish she understood how silly it is to want that.”
“What kind of monster did we bring into the world?” Ryan had joked.
It had been a rare moment during their marriage when they’d actually gotten along. Their love for Valentina had trumped their consistent disdain for one another.
But, of course, staying in Los Angeles on a more permanent basis had been impossible. Diana and Ryan were more famous than ever, with another three-cooking series set to film over the next two years. A part of Diana had wanted to give up on it, stay home with Valentina, and be a boring soccer mother—the kind who always packed her child’s lunches. But another, darker part of her knew that once she cut monetary ties with Ryan, he would find a way to end their marriage.
She hated how clear this was. But during the years after she had left Germany with Valentina, her marriage to Ryan had grown continually into a contractually obligated relationship. They kissed more often on-screen than in real life.
And, despite her best efforts, Diana was still in love with him. She felt her love for Ryan all the way to her fingers and toes.
In her diary, she wrote: I am doomed to be in love with this man for the rest of my days. Maybe he will destroy me.
Ryan and Diana had searched long and hard to find a worthy boarding school for Valentina. When they’d discovered one and pitched the idea, Valentina had balked. “Why can’t you just stop filming for a few years? Why can’t we all just live at home?” But after they’d taken her to see the school for herself, Valentina had loosened up. The girls were cool and welcoming; they were the daughters of actors, artists, and musicians; they opened Valentina’s world.
Because Ryan had met with a Los Angeles producer during Valentina’s orientation, Diana took her by herself. They’d wandered the prestigious halls together, chatted with other families, eaten burgers and fries in the quad, and decorated Valentina’s room with film posters, pictures of literary greats, and a few photographs of Valentina, Ryan, and Diana from their many trips around the world. When Diana had driven back to the airport alone, she’d sobbed so hard that she’d nearly had a panic attack. What kind of mother was she? She was giving her child away to be raised by people she didn’t know.
But Ryan had said it was for the best.
Now, Diana’s entire world had splintered beneath her, and she was in free fall. Ryan was officially “in love” with someone else on television and possibly in real life, too. Diana was washed up. She hadn’t even called into The Nantucket Factory to explain where she was and why she wasn’t coming in.
The only good thing in her life was Valentina. And Valentina had taken refuge with Diana to weather the storm together.
“I think you should call him,” Valetina said suddenly, allowing the blankets to fall down her shoulders. “You can tell him that whole ‘romance’ with Eddie was fake. That the TV people forced you into it. Maybe he’ll end his new show with Stacy. Maybe you can start another one together.”
Diana flared her nostrils. How could she explain that she’d needed out of this marriage for ages? That when she’d finally decided to leap away—she knew there was no going back.
Valentina dropped her head back onto the chair cushion and raised her chin toward the sky. A sea wind fluttered through her hair. There was a look of understanding on her face, and Diana decided not to explain herself.
“You know what’s weird?” Valentina said after a long silence.
“What?”
“When I first got to the boarding school, I told everyone I was Valentina March, the daughter of Ryan and Diana March. And everyone said, ‘They don’t have a daughter.’ Like, the fact that you were never public about having me meant that I didn’t exist.” Valentina laughed gently. “It really made me mad at first. Because I was thirteen or fourteen, and I was surrounded by, you know, the children of Jennifer Garner and the granddaughter of Margaret Atwood, I wanted to be known. I wanted to be appreciated for my parents’ fame. But after a little while, I realized what a blessing it was not to be known. Everyone there judges everyone else. And the fact that I was more-or-less unknown when I got there meant I could make up my identity as I went along.”
Diana’s heart opened with surprise. This was exactly what she’d wanted for Valentina. It amazed her that it had actually gone to plan.
Valentina turned and looked at her mother. Her features echoed Ryan’s back when Diana had first seen him at their culinary school before their lives had been inextricably altered.
“Last Christmas, Dad asked me if I wanted to be on television,” Valentina said, as though she were sharing a horrible secret.
Diana’s heart seized. She tried not to let it show. “Did he?”
“He said it would be amazing to have a family cooking show together,” Valentina said. “He thought your audience would love to get to know me. More than that, he said the producers were very excited about the idea. He said, now that I’m sixteen, I can make choices about things like that.”
Diana’s mouth went dry. Despite everything, she genuinely couldn’t believe Ryan had gone behind her back like that. She’d thought he understood that Valentina was not to be bothered with this. Valentina was to be left alone.
Diana didn’t want to show how angry she was.
“What did you say?” Diana asked quietly.
“I told him I’d think about it,” Valentina said, returning her gaze to the starry sky. “And when I returned home in March to visit, I planned to talk to him more about it.”
