“I’ll be what you want, when you need it,” I told him.
“We’ll talk about it tonight before we go to the club,” he said as we pulled into his parents’ driveway. “Right now, we have to spend some time with my parents before we ditch them for a few hours.” James turned to me, and my breath hitched because, well, my husband was hot as hell and he still yanked my chain. “Are you ready for this?”
“I was born ready,” I told him with a big smile. “I’m a Gallo.”
When James’s mother opened the door and caught sight of us, she squealed with delight. Mrs. Caldo was the cutest damn woman, besides my mom, of course, and she always made me feel right at home. “Isabella, I’ve missed you.” She pulled me into a bear hug, totally ignoring her son. Her hands squeezed my ass if she was assessing my squish factor. “You’re too thin. We must fix this.”
“Hey, Mama,” James said behind me, and I was sure he felt a little left out of our love fest. “Can I get one of those?” Thankfully, he grabbed my shoulders, moving me out of her arms so he could finally hug her.
“My bebé, of course.” She wrapped her arms around her son, looking so tiny against his wide frame.
There was something about seeing a man, namely, my man, loving on his mother. She grabbed his face and peppered his cheeks with kisses before she moved on to his nose and forehead like he was a little kid. “I’ve missed you, Jimmy. It’s been too long.”
I giggled softly at the nickname. It was my go-to one when I wanted to piss him off, but his mother used it regularly, and he never corrected her. He’d probably get a shoe upside the head if he did, because Mama Caldo didn’t play games. Sometimes she scared me, but I’d never admit it.
Mr. Caldo joined us outside and gave James a very firm and manly handshake before he turned his attention toward me. “Always so beautiful, Ms. Isabella.” The way my name rolled off his tongue, I almost wished James had that accent.
Almost.
“It’s so wonderful to see you again, Mr. Caldo,” I nodded and reached my hand out, but he pulled me forward and smashed my chest against his.
“Papi, please.”
“Papi,” I said with a hint of a laugh.
Mr. Caldo’s energy was contagious. I don’t know if it was his Cuban heritage or just his zest for life, but I always loved being around him. James’s mother was fun too, but she had the more serious personality like my mother. It must’ve been the Italian in her. But man, the Cuban and Italian mix in James made for a beast of a man.
James stood behind me with one eyebrow arched, watching his father get a little too handsy with me. “Pop, come on. She’s mine. You got yours.” James peeled his father’s hands away from my body and tucked me into his side.
They talked about us like they owned us. James kind of owned me, even though I pretended he didn’t. I wondered if it was the same way with his parents. The thought of it made me throw up a little in my mouth. I pushed the visual out of my mind, and I swallowed down my stomach acid.
“Thanks, Jimmy,” I said, pretending he’d saved me from his father. But it was harmless, and Mrs. Caldo practically molested me every time I visited too. I just learned they were handsy people and accepted it.
I loved being at his parents’ and being able to use that nickname without having to pay a penalty for it.
“Shall we?” Mr. Caldo said, motioning toward the house, which smelled like a little slice of heaven smack-dab in the middle of Miami.
James grabbed our suitcases while I followed his mother into the kitchen and took a seat at the island to watch her whip up another Cuban masterpiece.
James’s mother may have been Italian by birth, but growing up in Miami and later marrying into the Caldo family, led to her embracing their Cuban culture wholeheartedly.
She slid a glass of wine in front of me. “Relax a little,” she said. “I’m so glad you two came to visit. It’s been too long,hija.”
My insides warmed instantly as she called me daughter, and I sipped the wine slowly so I didn’t get knocked on my ass and become useless to James later. “We’ve missed you too.”
She stirred the beans, orfrijoles, as she called them, slowly mixing them. “We’ve invited everyone over for dinner in a bit. I hope you don’t mind.”
I figured as much.
It was never just the four of us when we arrived. The entire extended Caldo family came out to gawk at their family member who married an Italian girl covered in tattoos and who didn’t speak a lick of Spanish. Mrs. Caldo had been honorary Cuban for so long, everyone had forgotten she was really Italian like me.
My stomach growled when I caught a whiff of theArroz con Pollo. “I don’t mind at all as long as they all bring food.” I’d quickly fallen in love with Cuban cuisine after becoming part of this family.
Moments later, the doorbell rang. It was the start of the informal Caldo family reunion. The entire clan was just as handsy as his parents, but a hell of a lot of fun too.
“Izzy,” Samara, his oldest cousin, squealed when she came running into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around me. “I’ve missed you, mama.”
“Look at you,” I said, turning around on the stool to give her a hug.“Muy caliente.”
