Control brought me to another point.
“Are you feeling okay?”
She sighed, patting my hand. “The doctor said it has something to do with my thyroid. I need pills.” She sighed again, this time harder. “Getting old sucks! Ten out of ten don’t recommend.” She laughed like only Maggie Beautiful could, then she picked up a platter and said she was going to bring it out to the dining room.
As she hauled ass to get out, she shouted over her shoulder. “You might want to take a picture of this as proof. The queen sometimes helps!”
I was learning a lot about the new family I’d married into, people that were becoming thicker to me than blood, and I could tell that was an avoidance tactic. She didn’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t truly my business, and I refused to push her, so I’d decided to speak to Scarlett about it.
Between Scarlett and Maggie Beautiful, I felt Scarlett was the safer choice. If I upset Maggie Beautiful, there was no doubt Luca would notice, and the look he gave me at my birthday party lingered in my memories, chilling me to the bone.
Amadeo and Ludovico entered the kitchen, both kissing each of my cheeks. Cold from being out on the slopes wafted off them. I shivered, rubbing my arms, and Amadeo laughed, the sound of it a lot like Romeo’s, and Ludovico grinned.
“The entire house smells delicious,” Ludovico said in Italian. “It is coming from the heart of the home—the kitchen.”
Before Amadeo could slap him upside his head for speaking in Italian to me, I answered back in the same language. I thanked him, then told him what was on the menu.
Amadeo’s eyes widened. “You know the language now.”
I nodded. “I had some of the language, but…it was time. I haven’t learned all the dialects, but hopefully in time.”
Amadeo grinned. “Italy is made of dialects. It will give you a reason to stay forever.” He winked at me.
“Your Italian is as excellent as this foods smells.” Ludovico complimented.
I could tell they were both starving. I pointed to the dishes and asked them each to help me. They both looked almost affronted, looking around.
“The servers did not show up.” Ludovico made a face, and it reminded me of a mixture of Brando and Dario.
“Father did not have someone’s head for this,” Amadeo said seriously.
Amadeo and Ludovico gave each other a concerned look, but in Fausti Verse, it had more to do with the serious set of their thick eyebrows. Thick, but not overdone. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing, then I told them both I was the cook and the server. I wanted the meal to be more family-oriented, and we’d be having dinner in the same style. Everyone would serve themselves what and how much they wanted.
“And I have plenty, plenty, plenty, so eat up!” I realized in that moment that this was our first family meal—all of us together. Even though the situation with Massimo made me anxious, that was something to be thankful for.
Maybe Rocco and his sons could find a way to grow closer while also respecting the family’s rules. I knew they needed them to exist in the world they were born into, but…time and place.
Amadeo and Ludovico each grabbed a bunch of dishes, leaving me with one wimpy pitcher of the spiced drink I’d made to go with the weather outside. Ludovico stopped short before we could make it to the dining room. Amedeo continued walking, but Ludovico and I were suddenly alone. It looked like he had something heavy on his mind.
“What’s going on?” I whispered.
He blinked at me. “You are what a mamma should be. My new sibling will be blessed to have you.”
My heart felt like it broke in a million pieces in my chest. For him. For his brothers. For Rocco. Even for Luca and past men who felt the same way. Even though these men were who they were, and they protected us at all costs, I thought they were all a little broken too.
The lump in my throat was hard to get down, but I forced it. “We’re a family,” I said. “How about we start making plans to do this…once a month?”
“Every week.” He grinned at me. “I have no doubt the food will taste as delicious as it smells.”
“Even better.” I returned the grin with a genuine smile.
I cooked with my Nonna at home, but I’d never been responsible for this many mouths to feed. I knew Nonna would be proud of me. I felt all the love she’d showed me pass through my heart and into my hands. It was becoming an addicting feeling. And even if every dish wasn’t perfect, food infused with love was always the best medicine.
Ludovico nodded at me, and then his face turned serious. “I am thankful you are here,” he said. “Perhaps my brother will not die.”
He left me in the hallway, holding the pitcher—wondering if that was what it truly could come down to.
Yeah, I realized, it could, and I refused to allow it.
