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BELLA

“I come bearing gifts.”

Vincenzo is leaning against the doorframe, a cocky grin on his face when I swing open the front door to the cottage. He lifts the see-through plastic cup in his hand, shaking the milky contents swimming with dark blue tapioca pearls.

“Skim milk tea with blueberry boba.” He winks, flashing another confident smile as he lifts a shoulder. “Dame said it's your favorite.”

I eye the sixteen ounces of what is definitely not my favorite boba doubtfully.

“Did he, now.”

For the record, I have a non-existent poker face.

Cenzo’s brows furrow. “Fuck. That’s not your favorite, is it?”

I smile an apologetic grin. “No? But thank you anyway.”

He chuckles. “Dame didn’t actually tell me shit. But I did see you walking out of Bubble Trouble the other day and took a wild stab at what you were drinking.”

His brow arches hopefully.

“Vanilla oat milk tea with black sesame pearls.”

Cenzo frowns. “Well, shit. You’re not lactose intolerant, are you?”

I shake my head.

“Opinions on blueberry?”

I shrug. “Lawful neutral?”

“Then enjoy.” He hands me the cup, shrugging. “I’ll try to get it right next time. Oh, and there’s this.” He tugs a bottle of expensive looking vodka with a bow taped to it out of his jacket pocket. “Belated housewarming-slash-wedding gift for the happy couple.”

Cenzo and I haven’t spent much time together, never one-on-one. He’s kind of a jock, but I’ve never gotten douchebag vibes from him or anything. He’s also about the same size as his brother, so I’m staring up at him as I accept his various offerings.

“So…”

“To what do you owe the pleasure of my visit?” He grins. “Dunno. I guess I just figured we haven’t spent any time together. And since you’re my favorite sister-in-law⁠—”

“Out of all the sisters-in-law you’ve got?” I tease.

“Hey, you never know. Maybe Sofia will be into ladies and wife up. Anyway, you’ve still got dibs on being my fave, even if Sofia does switch teams. I swear.”

I giggle and take a sip of the boba, which really isn’t bad, even though I’m kinda on the fence when it comes to blueberries.

“Thank you, Vinny.”

He makes a pained face. “Vinny? That’s what we’re going with?”

I grin. “Not a fan?”

“It kinda makes me sound like I boost car stereos and report to Tony Soprano. But besides that…”

I laugh and step back from the doorway. “Wanna come in? Dame’s out.”

Out doing husband stuff.