Snack: Hummus w/ Crackers & Cucumber
Friday
Lunch: Steak Sandwich w/ Side Salad
Dinner: Roast Chicken w/ Potatoes & Gravy
Snack: Vegetables & Dip of Choice
Saturday
Lunch: Tuna or Egg-Salad Sandwich
Dinner: Beef & Vegetable Stew
Snack: Cheese & Crackers
Sunday
Breakfast: Protein Pancakes w/ Strawberries & Banana + Two Bacon Slices
Lunch: Chicken Parm w/ Grilled Zucchini
Dinner: Lobster or Crab Mac & Cheese
Snack: Frozen Green Grapes
Dessert: Chocolate Muffin
When I move to hand it back to him, my aunt gets a good look at it and raises her eyebrows. “Well, I think you might be my favorite dinner guest, Matteo Moretti.”
Mine too.
Chapter Twenty-One
Matteo
Dinner begins to finish up faster than I want it to, and with less conversation than I hoped for. Before coming here, I pictured dinner with Anya and her family allowing me to have more time to speak with her. I saw us talking lowly between one another while her family members made their own chatter and we ignored them—too captivated with each other to care.
I should have known that that wouldn’t be possible. I realistically should have guessed that her father and uncles would play interference between us. But honestly, most of the talking has been led by Nadya. I can’t even be upset about it either. She’s just a kid, not even a teenager yet, and Anya seemed to smile every time her little cousin spoke.
I know from our previous conversations that she feels similarly about Nadya that she does about Irina. She wishes she didn’t isolate herself so much from them and wishes she would have felt strong enough to keep in contact with them sooner. And from what I understand, tonight is the first time Anya is really seeing her cousin again, more than just in passing.
“Well, that was all very filling,” Irina says, patting her flat stomach as if it’s unbearably full. “I think I need a walk around the gardens before dessert. Nadya, will you and your papa escort me?”
I expect the twelve-year-old to roll her eyes or gripe about being asked to leave, but she is visibly excited by the prospect, shooting up from her seat with a grin. “I love our princess walks. Can we make Papa act like he’s our bodyguard again?”
Irina grins. “We sure can.”
“You just want to give them more time alone,” Lev gripes, but softens when his daughter grabs his arm to tug him out of his seat.
As the small family breaks off from the group and heads out of the dining room, I turn to Anya with a lift of my brows. “Princess walks?”
Her eyes are shining with fondness as she explains, “It’s something I made up when I was little. I would walk and skip around the gardens with my brothers or my father following behind. They would pretend to be watching over the royal princess while I frolicked. I don’t know why I thought it was so fun, but Nadya decided she liked it too. It’s become sort of a silly tradition.”
“Royal princess ballerina.”
Anya and I both look up at the sound of her father’s voice, turning to the head of the table where he remains seated. The Pakhan clears his throat at the attention and elaborates, “You’d have us call you a princess ballerina. Royalty wasn’t enough for you, you needed to make sure that we knew you were more than a princess.”
