"So?" She shrugs and puts more potatoes on my plate. "You wouldn't live here?"
"I don't know," I say, trying not to notice their expectant looks. "I've always been a West Coast girl, but I like it here. It's just that moving isn't the first thing on my mind right now. I can't go."
"You divorce?" Carmela's tone changes into concern and she frowns.
"Mamma—" Ben cuts her off again, his tone impatient.
"It's okay," I tell Ben, then look back at her. "Yeah. I filed already. I want it clean, and as soon as possible."
"Good." She nods, lips pursed. "Ben will file, too. Soon. You cannot live split lives. You must be serious with my son. Not like girls these days—"
"Mamma,basta." Ben’s voice rises, and he fixes her with a look—eyes flashing, jaw tight.
Carmela snaps to Antonio: "How come you never taught your son to shut his mouth?"
Antonio shrugs, cool as the carving knife in his hand. "Apparently, he has your genes. Lost cause."
"Mamma." Ben exhales steadily. "Emma and I—we need space. Privacy. It's fresh. Believe me, I'll do everything right."
Carmela lifts her hand, her eyes curious now. "Okay. I'm just saying—nowadays people are all over the place and I taught you better. But... what do you mean by right?"
Ben's gaze softens on me, then sweeps back to his mother.
"Just leave it to me," he raises his hand when Carmela opens her mouth to object. "I've learned my lesson, and found my person."
My heart melts at how determinedly he says it. "And you are my person, and I love your New York."
"Oooh! Cutie!" Mara coos, waving at Carmela. "See? She's perfect for him. She makes him look better than he is."
Ben shoots her a dry look. "I didn't ask you for your PRcampaign." His eyes drop to the food on the table. "And why did you ruin the only thing you can cook? Who puts chicory in tiramisu?"
"We're trying to be healthier!" Mara raises his voice defensively.
"It tastes vile," Ben declares flatly, just to get back at her.
"I like it," Paul says, squeezing her shoulder, and his other hand drifts to hover over her belly. When he catches me staring, he slides his hand back into his lap, too fast.
I narrow my eyes on him while he pretends he doesn't see me. Mm. Odd.
Wait. A. Minute.
Chicory instead of coffee. Mara hasn't touched her glass with wine. Glow dialed up past ten. The loose dress. Paul's unexpected blessings line.
My eyes dart between her and Paul.Oh my god. Mara is pregnant.
Mara gives me the kind of smile that sayseverything's fine, exactly the same, really, why are you staring at me like that?
Yup. Totally and definitely pregnant.
So what do you do when you find out such a huge thing? You spill the secret to your boyfriend's ear when you're alone, washing dishes.
Ben pauses, suds dripping off his hands. "Hell no. They just got married." He whips his head to the living room, then back at me. "No."
"Uh-huh. Because people never have sex before marriage, right?" I counter. "She's glowing. That dress isn't strangling herribs, and have you seen how Paul looks at her?"
"That's just them repressing PDA in front of my parents," he throws back with a smirk. "Paul's been gripping that couch cushion to keep from dry humping the air."
I drop my head to my chest and sputter a laugh. "Yeah. Knowing them, I bet they must be pressure cookers inside. Still—want to bet?"
