The Italian

He smiles and gives me a wink.

“Sii gentile, Nonna,” he says again before he disappears out to his brothers.

“Today, we make Sunday gravy with sausage and spaghetti,” Nonna announces.

I stare at her for a moment. Did I hear that right?

Huh? Gravy?

Gravy and pasta? The gravy I make is brown and goes with chicken.

Oh, fucking hell.

What next?

Nonna begins to explain what is in the pot in great detail, while I try my hardest to take in her instructions.

She’s firing orders at me, and I’m beginning to realize that this isn’t just a kitchen. This is the army, and Nonna is the drill sergeant.

Francesca comes and stands beside me, and I take her hand in mine. “Don’t leave me here alone with her,” I mouth behind Nonna’s back.

Francesca giggles in response. I glance over to see that Bianca is smirking into her wineglass, too.

I’m glad I’m keeping everyone amused.

“Olivia… concentrate!” Nonna snaps. I step forward and take the spoon.

“Yes, Nonna,” I whisper.

Fuck me, he owes me some good sex for this.

It’s just after 8:00 p.m. when we walk out to the car, hand-in-hand.

We’ve said our goodbyes and are finally alone in the dark

Dinner was a success, and I didn’t poison anyone. Bianca made dessert, and we sat around the table and talked. There was laughter and fun.

It was actually pretty good. I survived.

Enrico opens my door and stares at me. It’s like he has something on his mind.

“What?”

He kisses me softly. “I was just wondering how many times you can fall in love with the same person.” I smile. “Because just when I think I can’t love you anymore, my heart grows so I can love you harder.” He kisses me softly. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For teaching me how to be happy.”

* * *

“Hello, Mum.” I smile down the phone.

“Hi, darling. How is the fiancé today?”

I giggle. “Good. Great, actually.”

“You wouldn’t believe it, but Henry has had a fall.”