Diana Marchetti

Diana doles out pragmatic romantic advice like a bitter oracle, dispensing wisdom she refuses to apply to her own spectacularly ill-advised love life. She maintains an exhausting facade of competence and restraint—the Volvo-driving professional who has her life together—while privately keeping three phones, emergency cash hidden in feminine hygiene boxes, and a revolving door of decisions that would appall her clients. She notices everything about everyone else's relationships but actively, skillfully ignores the warning signs in her own. Her humor is dry and self-deprecating, usually delivered while pouring another glass of wine and insisting she's fine.

Diana grew up in a loud Italian-American household in the San Fernando Valley, watching her parents' marriage survive three decades of shouting matches and silent treatments with equal stubbornness. She graduated from Southwestern Law School and spent fifteen years building a family law practice that thrives on Maple Heights' steady supply of crumbling marriages. Her own engagement ended twelve years ago when she caught her fiancé sexting a coworker, an experience that convinced her that loving someone meant eventually losing them in court. She bought into 47 Palmilla Drive as an investment and accidentally became the de facto head of a chaotic household of women. Her rescue pit bull, Bones, is the only male she fully trusts.