Milo was out at a meeting with his brothers and cousins—the first time I’d been left fully alone in his place since we arrived in Navesink Bank. I’d even joined him on quick trips out to pick up takeout.
Clingy? Possibly.
But mostly, I just really wanted to soak in this place. Partially because Milo spoke so fondly of it. But also because I was hoping this was going to be my home, my future. I wanted to know it the way someone who lived there their whole life would.
And that night, I was going to explore the most important location of all.
Milo’s mother’s house.
Was I nervous?
No.
I was bellyache-terrified.
Milo’s family was everything to him. I knew he believed that they would all love me no matter what becausehecared about me, but I really wanted them to like me for me too.
The bedroom was a mess from where I’d strewn all my dresses on the bed, trying to find the one that would be the most appropriate for a family dinner. So, yeah, definitely not any of my stage dresses.
Eventually, I settled on the same dress I wore to meet with Milo that first time, a pair of kitten heels, and light makeup.
My face was still not looking great. Neither were the band of bruises around my arm. But everything had faded to less awful shades of green and yellow with just a smidge of purple.
I’d tried to use makeup to cover it up but ended up looking too cake. I was just going to have to be okay with people looking. Milo assured me that it wasn’t the first time someone had shown up to Sunday dinner with bruises.
I heard Milo’s keys in the door and took a steadying breath.
“You look gorgeous,” he said as soon as he saw me.
“Thanks.”
“Are you ready to head out?”
Nope.
“Yeah,” I said, giving him a smile as I grabbed my bag. “Now, listen. Don’t you go embarrassing us by caterwauling atthat tabby, okay?” I told Alley, who spared me one bored glance before going back to cleaning her one good ear.
Adrian Grassi’s home was the very definition of cozy. Well-maintained lawns and gardens, mature trees, and that kind of cozy/cluttered home you saw in old rom-coms, the kind that told you to kick off your shoes, curl up, and stay awhile.
I only got about two feet in the door before the matriarch herself came rushing forward to frame my face in both of her hands.
“Oh, he told me you were gorgeous, but I think he understated it. What beautiful babies you are going to make!”
“Ma,” Milo said, his voice a frustrated warning.
“No one’s talking to you,” she said, wrapping an arm around my waist and leading me away from Milo. “I’m so glad he finally brought you here. And I won’t even be too mad that he kept you away from me for almost a full week.”
“You knew?” I asked, my eyes going wide.
“Please,” another woman’s voice said, making me turn to see Milo’s sister Sofia (who I wasnotsupposed to call ‘Smush’) standing there already holding a glass of wine out for me. “Nothing goes on in this town without her knowing. Especially if it has to do with one of her kids. And so, we drink,” she said, tapping her glass to mine.
It was chaos for the first twenty minutes. Lots of questions and introductions. I was glad Milo had the foresight to show me pictures of his family and tell me all their names ahead of time, or I would have felt so lost.
I was sitting on the couch next to Milo, getting to know his brothers and their wives, when a little boy of maybe five or six came up to me, all childlike curiosity and absolutely no filter, and blurted out, “What happened to your face?”
I’d figured the adults likely already knew the story. I never thought about what to say to the kids if they asked.
“I, uh,” I started, figuring I would just tell him I hit my head.
