Page 142

“What?”

I shake my head and smile.

“Nothing, Grumpy.”

His eyes narrow.

I laugh again and turn back toward the table, where Mia is still defending her case, Josh is claiming he only said one bad word, Lily is telling him that one is enough, and Cas is warning everyone that nobody better teach Noah any of this when he starts talking.

I sit there and take it all in.

The noise. The laughter. The arguments that aren't really arguments. Grace talking over Ethan while Cas tells both of them to shut up. Lexy laughing against Dex's shoulder. Summer trying and failing to keep a straight face. Lily scolding everyone while Josh sneaks another piece of bread like she can't see him doing it, and Penny taking pictures of it all with her phone before sharing them in the Delulu Fam group chat.

I turn to Jude and find his eyes on me.

“I like your family.”

His expression softens. “They seem to like you too.” He passes me a breadstick. “You should try these.”

I pick one up and take a bite, unable to hold back a groan. “These are delicious.”

I study it more closely and notice the pink salt, rosemary and red pepper sprinkled over it.

“Who made these?”

“Mama.” Jude shrugs.

I turn to Lily. “These are so good.”

She beams. “Thank you! I know you love to cook too, Nora, so I'll take it as a double compliment.”

I smile, but a small voice inside my mind corrects her.

Loved. I loved cooking once.

I stare at the half-eaten breadstick, torn between wanting to buy the ingredients and try making them myself and shutting that thought away with all the other cooking ideas I've pushed aside. Even considering it hurts, because cooking was something I used to do with…

“You okay?”

I turn to Jude and find his green eyes searching mine. I take a deep breath and nod.

“I'm… trying to be.”

He nods, no judgement. “Good.”

I'd been so scared of coming here, of feeling out of place or finding the noise too overwhelming. I was afraid someone would mention Damiano and I'd fall apart, that I'd have to run back home because I wouldn't know what to do with myself. Yet here I am, sitting at their table with a half-eaten breadstick in my hand, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.

Damiano told me these dinners were loud.

He seriously undersold them.

***

After dinner, we all move to the fire pit at the far end of the yard, where a circle of wooden chairs surrounds a wide stone hearth. Flames dance over the logs, sending the occasional spark into the dark sky, and the smell of burning wood mingles with the lingering scent of grilled food. Beyond the pool, the mountains are little more than dark shapes against the horizon, and the string lights hanging above us cast a soft glow over the yard.

The summer air has cooled now that the sun has disappeared behind the mountains, and I settle into my chair, expecting a quiet end to the evening.

Apparently, I should have known better.