“Of course,” she says. “And Rocco says that he left you Nicky’s?”
“He... did,” I say, instantly stiffening.
“Well, that must be exciting. I know you were off doing your own thing, but Nicky always thought you’d come back...” She looks wistfully across at Rocco. “Isn’t that right, Rocco?”
“What?”
“I’m talking about Olive coming back to work at Nicky’s.”
My heart starts to pick up. No.Not this.
Not with Leo right here.
“What will you do with it?” she asks. “Big changes, little changes? New menu?”
I sit there, my mouth half-open, willing myself to say something, anything, to shut the line of questioning down.
“Leo, you had some ideas for modernizing, didn’t you?” Isabella says, turning her attention to him. I wait in a kind of cold horror for him to tell them I’m selling, but he shrugs and reaches for more wine.
“But you must have some ideas?” Isabella presses me, leaning in, smiling eagerly. I feel heat rising through my body, every cell starting to vibrate as my chest tightens.
And that’s when I feel the weight of Leo’s hand on my arm below the table, and then a gentle, reassuring squeeze. I look down at his fingers, momentarily stunned, processing the feeling of comfort, but also a fizzing feeling at all the points where our skin touches. My breath catches in my throat, all the sounds around me dim, and there is only his hot touch on my bare skin. Then Leo moves his hand away as fast as it arrived, and lifts the bowl of caponata, handing it to Luca.
I realize:He’s not going to tell them I’m selling.
Does Leo actually understand? I look across at him and he briefly meets my eyes, making a soft grimace.This must be hard, his face tells me.
I close my eyes as warmth blossoms inside me. I analyze every edge of the moment before it disintegrates like smoke into the breeze and am able to come back to Isabella’s question about my intentions with more calm.
“You know, I’m still trying to process everything,” I say, and it feels truthful.
“Of course you are, darling. Running a restaurant is a big new challenge.”
I cringe, grateful once again that Leo has my back on this.
“Do you love it, Isabella?” I ask her now. “Running a restaurant?”
She laughs lightly. “With him?”
“She loves it,” Rocco booms.
“If you don’t mind the long hours, I love it,” she replies.
“Nonna, youneverdo long hours anymore,” Luca says, laughing.
“It is all aboutfamilyfirst,” she says, shooting Luca a wide, toothy smile. “Rocco and I make sure there is time for this.” She holds a hand out to the table, indicating the family sitting around it. “But it helps to have a very busy restaurant, which is not too big for the family to handle.” She smiles. She knows she is lucky; in hospitality, this is a dream.
I think about how Dad engineered a trip here every year. I wonder why the importance of family first didn’t stick with my restaurant-obsessed dad, who allowed his own family to fall apart. It feels utterly incongruous. Maybe hewasjust plain selfish.
Luca raises another toast. “To family!” he says, smiling.
“To family,” I repeat, lost in the tangle of memories.
“Family is family. No matter how you all come together,” says Rocco. It’s so minor, but think I see Isabella fire Rocco alook.
“What? I didn’t say anything,” he says, before shooting me a big grin.
What was that about?
