“You cook?” I managed, swallowing the perfect bite with a bit of wine.
His cheeks pinked up as he shoveled another mouthful in, not responding.
“Our Nico is the best cook in the family.” Mama Dorotea reached over and ruffled his hair, making her son blush a deeper shade of red.
“Mama!” he protested, waving her away.
“It’s true,” Caprice piped up. “No one can outcook Nico.”
“Nona Lara was better,” Nico said, gulping his own wine. “My grandmother,” he said to me. “She’s who taught me how to cook.”
“Nona Lara watched the children while I worked,” Mama Dorotea explained. “She was here when they came home from school every day.”
“We made dinner together every night,” Nico said.
And now I had a clear picture of this family, the single, young widowed mother, a grandmother staying home to take care of the children while she worked. I hadn’t been in the midst of any sort of family for a long time, and it felt good to be in the middle of the chatter, the teasing, the inside jokes I didn’t understand but made me smile anyway. I didn’t know if it was the wine, the food, or the people, but I was far more comfortable than I had expected to feel surrounded by strangers. It probably should have made me nostalgic for my own family, but my mother, although a single mother in her own right, had given me turkey TV-dinners on Thanksgiving and always confused my birthday with her own. It was hard to miss stuff like that.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I whispered to Nico while the two kids argued with their mother about getting dessert if they hadn’t finished their dinner. I saw his mother smile at us approvingly, saw the look she exchanged with her oldest daughter when Nico leaned in to say “You’re welcome,” into my ear.
“Mama!” A voice called from the other room and everyone looked up.
“They’re here!” Mama Dorotea stood, putting her napkin down on the table and rushing toward the doorway. “They’re here! They’re here!”
“They’re here!” The kids jumped up and followed and so did both Anna and Caprice. Only Sal sat unmoving, shoveling in huge mouthfuls of lasagna.
“You’d think the messiah had returned,” I murmured, making Nico snort laughter beside me.
“You could say that,” he replied with a smile. “You see, my sister and her husband-”
That was as far as he got before the whole lot of them burst into the room, all surrounding a pretty young woman with the same dark hair, hers cut shorter than the rest, curling around her cherubic face, her blue eyes bright with laughter.
“Let us take a breath!” the young woman-Giulia, I assumed-exclaimed, her gaze falling on her brother. “Can you help me, Nico?”
He stood, taking two strides toward his sister to take something from her arms. It took me a moment to register what it was, and by the time Nico had reached me, his sisters and mother following, exclaiming all around him, I felt rooted in my chair, trapped and speechless.
“Meet his highness, the Bianchi messiah, my sister’s son, Luka-the first boy in the family since I was born.” Nico pulled back the blue knitted blanket to show me the tiny face of a very newborn baby. He couldn’t have been more than a week or two old, his little hand drawn up to his mouth, eyes screwed up tight as he sucked on his fingers.
Everyone was quiet now, focused on me and my reaction. I knew what I was supposed to do and say, but I couldn’t find the words. They were caught in my throat.
“Give the woman a little room.” It was Sal, Anna’s husband, who spoke up. “You’re overwhelming her.”
And of course, he was absolutely correct.
“Excuse me.” I managed to stand, grabbing the back of the chair for support, before bolting down the hall toward the bathroom. I sat on the commode, my head tucked between my knees, my whole body trembling. They were talking again, maybe about me, but it sounded more like they were exclaiming over the baby.
The baby.
Oh my god, I’d just run out of the room like an idiot. What must they think?
But I couldn’t let them see me like this, shaking and holding back sobs and trying to draw breath into my lungs like a fish out of water. Sometimes the pain came out of nowhere and blindsided me. It was like getting hit upside the head by a two by four from behind. It just flattened me.
“Dani?” Nico knocked gently on the door, calling my name. I thought about not answering him, pretending I was invisible. That was ridiculous, of course. I was going to have to face him-face all of them.
“Just a moment,” I called, hearing the quiver in my voice and cursing it. I stood, checking my face in the mirror-tear-streaked, nose red, mascara running. I was a mess.
“Come out,” he called, knocking again. “Whatever it is, we don’t have to talk about it.”
How did he know just the right thing to say? I gravitated toward the door and unlocked it, peeking out. He must have seen my face, known I’d been crying. I hadn’t washed it or tried to cover it up.
“I have something to show you.” He extended his hand. “Come with me.”
“I can’t,” I croaked, shrinking back. “You don’t understand.”
“Trust me.”
“I hardly know you.” I sniffed.
“Trust me anyway.”
I took his offered hand and followed.
Chapter Two
Dear Carrie and Doc,
You’re not going to believe
Remember how I said I wasn’t interested in
Carnavale turned out to be a lot more interesting than I expected…
“Carnavale.” He whispered the word into my ear. The city was laid out before us like brightly colored jewels on velvet. The lights of the parade and shows going on below in the Piazza lit up all of Venice. Each costumed dancer glittered like a piece of shiny candy we could have plucked up and eaten. I watched, enthralled, feeling Nico’s warm breath against my cheek. Even in my desperate attempt to avoid the festivities, I couldn’t help but be a part of them. Italy had a way of drawing you in, whether you liked it or not.
It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“This is your place?” I asked, hugging myself as I looked down through the little window of the attic room.
“Yes.” He peered over my shoulder and I felt him pressed against me, long and lean. “This way, I can have my own space, but also be near my family.”
“You’re close with them?”
He shrugged. “They’re my family. I take care of them since my mother, she can’t work anymore.”
“She was a seamstress?” I remembered her talking about it.
“Her arthritis is too bad now for her to work.”
“Thank you for showing me this.” I turned slightly to look at him, his eyes gleaming silver in the darkness. “Thank you for inviting me today. About what happened… I’m sorry…”
“Come. Sit.” He led me over to his bed and we perched on the edge, side by side. If I hadn’t known he was gay, and if I hadn’t had so much wine to drink, I wouldn’t have followed him. I would have been on my guard and tense when he put his arm around me and held me close. But I felt safe with him, safer than I had with a single man in a long time, so I let him comfort me, settling in as we reclined on his bed, tucking my head under his chin.
“Do you want to talk about it, bella?”
Bella. He was just using a common Italian endearment, the word for beautiful. He couldn’t have known the memories it triggered for me.
“No.” I shook my head and held on, closing my eyes. “Can we just… not talk.”
“Si.” His lips brushed my forehead and I sighed in relief. If I’d had to explain, I would have broken down completely, shattered into a million little pieces that poor Nico would have had to pick up and somehow put back together before we went down to face his family.
Instead we held each other, the music of Carnavale playing below like the soundtrack of a distant dream. It was probably the wine coursing through me, making me far too warm in the chilly attic room. I hadn’t had that much to drink in a long time, and even all the food we’d consumed hadn’t dampened the buzzing in my head.