I glance down at the alcohol, recalling what I said to Francesca about him dosing them to make them obey him. I was only joking, but now I crack a faint smile, putting the barely-touched glass down on his desk.
Now that this is wrapping up, I’m just eager to get back to her. I want to take her home.
Mateo offers his hand, and I grip it firmly, giving it a solid shake. A smile I don’t trust stretches across his face, and he tells me, “Welcome to the family, Salvatore.”
Chapter Thirty Four
Francesca
I’ve never been so happy to miss work, but my first stress-free night at Sal’s house melts away and I get to wake up beside him, no longer anxious we’ll be found out, no longer worried that Mateo might stop in at the bakery.
I’m allowed to wake up in his arms this morning.
I’m allowed to stand in his kitchen and help him make breakfast.
This is mine. I can have this. Mateo gave us his blessing, and Sal will be the authority in his family, so we don’t need anyone else’s.
Well, aside from his mother’s.
I’m going to meet her today, and I’m so nervous I can’t stand it. I’ve envisioned going to her house a million times, but not one of those times did I imagine it would be a sympathy visit. I went through my closet looking for just the right black dress—modest and traditional, but still pretty. I found a long-sleeved lace dress that fit the bill, and paired it with low black heels. Then I spent a couple hours cooking and baking when we got back to Sal’s so I’d have food to take over.
I want to make a good first impression so badly, but the day after losing her husband, I can’t even imagine how she’s feeling. I don’t even want to. I’ve just managed to get Sal; I never want to consider losing him.
Sal makes his way into the kitchen and finds me fiddling with the foil on the casserole I made last night. Since I have no idea what his mom likes, I had to ask him for input. He wasn’t a lot of help. After holding it together and keeping up appearances for my family right on the heels of Antonio’s death, he ran out of steam once we were alone. We didn’t really talk about it. He didn’t want to talk. He just wanted quiet and to be with me, so that’s what I gave him.
Now he comes up behind me, catching my hand and kissing it before winding his arms around my waist from behind. “You know, I don’t think Garfield got into the fridge while we slept.”
“I just want to make sure it looks good,” I tell him, leaning back into him. “I’m nervous.”
“I know. You don’t have to be. She’s probably buried so deep in her grief right now, she won’t even remember today.”
I turn in his arms, my mouth turned down in a helpless frown. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“I know,” he says, with a nod that tells me he doesn’t want to dwell on it. “Nothing could be done about it. Don’t think about it.”
“I just feel so awful. I never wanted to cost you so much.”
Reaching out and running a thumb over my lower lip, Sal tells me, “You’re worth any price.”
He makes my heart so full. This is going to be a sad day and a stressful week, but I know we’ll push through it and have plenty of better days.
Today I’m meeting his grieving mother.
Tomorrow Sal is coming to with me to our first Sunday night dinner as a couple.
Monday is my father’s funeral.
At some point we’ll have to go to his father’s funeral.
So, yeah. Not a fun week.
When we pull up outside Sal’s family seat, we both sit in the car for a couple minutes, trying to convince ourselves to go in. Sal eventually turns the car off and opens his door. The sun beating down on the car makes it hot immediately, so I get out, too. I grab the casserole dish and Sal grabs the muffins.
“We should’ve brought flowers,” I tell him, as we walk up the driveway.
“She’ll get plenty of flowers.”
“I should’ve brought her a gift. I should’ve picked her out something nice. Food isn’t enough; neighbors bring food.”
“You’ll be fine,” he assures me. “This is all fine. Unnecessary, even, because yes, everyone is going to bring food.”
“Is this dress too tight?” I ask, casting an anxious glance down my body. “It’s too tight, isn’t it? I had some that were less form-fitting, but they didn’t have a high neck. I had one that was perfect, but Mateo gave it to Mia.”
“Francesca, you look perfect. Don’t worry about your dress.” Stopping short, as if just thinking of something, he adds, “Don’t call me Sal.”