"I hate you both."
They dissolve into giggles as mamma calls everyone to the dining room.
Dinner starts well.
Gavin compliments the lasagna at least four times, which makes my mamma beam. He talks football with my father, who is more animated than I've seen him in months. He asks Sophia about the baby, Rick about his accounting firm, and Gabi about her work.
He's perfect. Absolutely perfect.
"Seb came to the exhibition last weekend," Gavin mentions casually, and my father's head swivels toward me.
"You went to a football game?"
"It was a special occasion," I mumble.
"But you hate football. You said it was… what was it, 'organized violence for people with too much testosterone.'"
Gabi snorts. Sophia hides her smile behind her napkin. Gavin's eyes are laughing at me.
"I was being supportive," I say through gritted teeth.
My mamma catches my eye across the table and smiles knowingly.
Shit. She knows. She definitely knows.
"Speaking of support," my father says, setting down his fork, "when are you finishing this degree of yours? I have so much to teach you, Sebastiano. The business?—"
“Papa,” Gabi interrupts gently, "I've been handling?—"
"—has never been stronger, yes, because you girls have been keeping things running, but when Sebastian comes on board?—"
"I was thinking," Gabi tries again, "that maybe we could talk about the new contract I landed last week?—"
"—he can learn the supplier relationships, the client management, all the things my father taught me?—"
"Sabatino," mamma says, a warning in her voice.
"—and eventually, Moretti and Son will mean something, the way it was meant to?—"
"Papa, Gabi is trying to tell you—" I start.
"I know, I know, she's been wonderful, but Sebastian, you need to understand the legacy?—"
"Papa—"
"—my father built this company with his bare hands, and his father before him?—"
"Papa—”
"—so when I came here… Well it's important that a Moretti son carries on the tradition, which is why?—"
Something in my chest snaps.
"Enough!” I stand up so fast my chair scrapes against the floor. My face is hot, my heart pounding. "Papa, you need to pull your head out of your ass!"
Silence crashes over the table.
My father blinks, thrown. "Sebastiano?—"
