“No, just a friend.”
“You sure? He’s been so on and off again with that girl from high school I was hoping...”
My ears perk up.
“What was her name?” Charlie hollers to the next room.
“Who’s name?” JP’s mom, Sofia, asks.
“JP’s on and off again flame—”
“Perché vorresti dirlo? Non abbiamo bisogno di menzionareAudrey!” Sofia shouts slicing the air with her hands. “You know better, Charlie. She’s long gone.”
I don’t speak Italian. But I hear the inflection of the question and the mention ofAudrey’sname. I don’t want to be the ignitor of any fight so I repeat, “We’re just friends.”
Charlie eyes me curiously but nods in recognition.
This isn’t a family that asks questions, but strictly goes off vibe checks.
I love them.I swallow the thought then nearly choke as JP enters the room—sweaty?—with a child clinging to his leg.
“Hey,” he says with a shrug. “I was wrestling.”
I laugh because the sweaty brow, heavy breathing, and excuse sound preposterous but no one bats an eye. He reaches out a hand to me and I take it, standing to meet him with the perfect hug and air kisses on each of my cheeks.
“You’ve met the circus?” he asks, and I grin.
“You sound like your dad,” I tease.
His hand hits his chest hard. “Amore mio, you compliment me...”
My chest twists at his Italian. I don’t know this side of him but I’d be lying if it didn’t make me wonder. I’d be lying even more if it didn’t make me want to know more...
“It’s about time you showed up,” I tease, and he pulls me closer.
“Was Uncle Charlie harassing you? Or was it Nonna Tia with her pearls and macrame?” JP teases just as the little boy wrapped around his leg speaks.
“Hello! I’m Billy!”
I kneel down to his level. “It’s nice to meet you, Billy. I’m Julia.”
“Are you marrying Uncle JP?” His big, brown eyes widen and fill with the wonder only a child can possess. I’m not even stunned by the question—it’s very typical five-year-old boy.
“All right, buddy, why don’t you go ask your mom if she needs help getting the silverware out,” JP interrupts, and Billy sprints through the kitchen. Kids are funny that way—always running from one place to the next, in a hurry to live the next moment. Reminding me I should be more childlike.
JP guides me back into his arms, and I hesitate momentarily, realizing his whole family can see.
I laugh, surreptitiously dripping my hand down his chest and pulling him into the next room so we’re out of earshot.
“JP—” I begin, but my words are cut off by three girls and another two boys chasing each other down the hall, their socked feet slipping on the wood floor. The faces are flushed and their picture-perfect attire is slightly disheveled. I laugh as I watch the joy of childhood prance past me in another metaphoric sprint. “There’s a lot of people here.”
He nods. “That was Samuel, Asher, Maxine, Lydia, and Coco. Oh, and the stage-five clinger was Billy. William and Bianca’s son.”
I nod as the mob of children disappears down the hallway.
“You’re here,” he says, cupping his hand around my face.
“Don’t distract me,” I snap, though my stony façade slips.
