“It’s not gossip if it’s true.” Tilly smirks.
“We have so much to plan,” Bianca’s mother says as she takes her seat next to her still shell-shocked husband. “We must have you married before God, plan the christening, and your baby shower, of course.”
“We have time for that, Mama.”
Vinnie pulls out a chair for his wife and takes the seat next to her at the extremely long table filled with two families and many generations. The kids are at another table, a small army on their own.
Something about tonight, sitting at the pizza place we spent time in as kids, feels right. I haven’t felt this at peace in so long, the sensation is almost foreign. The calm among the chaos I grew up with is back, and for the first time in a long time, anything seems possible.
21
Tilly
Betty is standing in the kitchen, spoon in hand, trying to replicate her sister-in-law’s sauce recipe. “I swear to God, she left something out.” She grimaces as she takes a small sip of the red sauce from a spoon. “It’s too bitter.”
“Try adding a little sugar. It’ll help cut the acidity.”
Betty smiles, and Angelo puts his arms around my waist, nuzzling my neck. “Do you need a break?” he whispers.
I turn my face, staring into his beautiful eyes. “From your mom? Never.”
She may be a lot to handle sometimes, but she’s Betty and now my mother too. It had been so long since I’d had someone to call Mom that I don’t really care how over the top or crazy she is sometimes, she’s still mine.
“I can hear you,” Betty says, and when I look up, I see the smile on her face.
“Go back to the living room with the men,” she tells him, waving the spoon around in front of her. “Send your sisters in here because I’m sure they need a break from all the testosterone by now.”
“Fine, Ma. I’ll tell them,” he murmurs against my skin before he’s gone.
“How’s the shop doing since you’ve been busy all week?” Betty asks, grabbing a small bowl of sugar and sprinkling a little into the pot.
“A little more,” I tell her. “It’s going fine. I have a solid team working there and hired a fabulous pastry chef so I don’t have to be chained to the bakery.”
“Smart girl.” Betty winks at me. “Life is hectic. Throw in two kids, a husband, and a business, and time passes in a blur. Just make sure to take some time and enjoy every minute you can. Soon enough, you’ll be older and looking back, wishing you could do things over again.”
I move next to her and grab a clean spoon, dipping it into the sauce and focus on my mother-in-law. “I know how precious time is, Ma. I promise not to take a moment for granted.”
She reaches out and cups my cheek. “That’s my girl.”
I smile, feeling like I am hers. She’s the only mother I have, and I wouldn’t trade her for anyone in the world. I place the spoon in my mouth, and my lips pucker around the spoon. “More sugar,” I whisper, trying to swallow down the strong tomato taste lingering on my tongue.
“We’re here,” Daphne says with Delilah and Bianca at her side. “What’s up?”
“Sit,” Betty tells them, dumping more sugar into the pot. “I just want some company and some girl talk. We’ve been so busy this week, I haven’t had time to catch up with my girls.”
“Grab another bottle of red,” Daphne tells Delilah and pulls down four wineglasses from the cabinet. “And a bottle of water for Bianca.”
“I can have a few sips,” Bianca says as she sits down on the stool across the island. “My doctor said it was okay but not to overdo it.”
“I drank while I was pregnant,” Betty replies.
“That explains what happened.” Daphne chuckles.
“Oh, stop. All my children are healthy and happy. What more could a mother ask for?” Betty dumps a few boxes of pasta into the boiling water and stares at us across the island. “I have everything I ever wanted.”
“Is there anything you’d change if you could?” Delilah asks Betty.
“I’d have more children.”
