Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
That evening, I learned to roll antipasto. And the proper cooking time for various types of noodles. And how to layer lasagna.
"This is a sausage lasagna," Adrian explained. "Luca's favorite," she added. "He loves the chopped meat one too, of course, but this is his favorite."
"That's good to know. He seems to enjoy what I make, but I would like to know how to make his favorites too."
To that, the women shared a warm look, and I got the feeling that they liked what I was saying, that it meant something to them that I wanted to take care of Luca in an old-fashioned sort of way. These were modern women with old-fashioned values. They took pride in being wives and mothers, in serving up hard work to their loved ones. Some of them had professions. Just as many took care of the home and their families. But every last one of them was a strong, confident, interesting woman. And, I think it went without saying that they were all incredible badasses in their own way. Seeing as all of the married ones were with men belonging to this family. Which meant they lived with all the uncertainty and fear for their husband's safety and freedom as I knew I would one day have to learn to accept.
As I stood there and listened to them talk about recipes, discuss their children, their grandchildren, their husbands, I had a feeling there was a lot I could learn from, there was a lot of love I could gain from them.
I'd lost my closest relatives.
I was still coming to grips with Celenia, with my role in her death.
And there had been a hole inside, a family-sized space hollowed out and left empty.
As one of Luca's other aunts gave me a one-armed hug and complimented my antipasto rolls, I realized that these people—should they have me—could start filling in that space.
Hell, I was pretty sure they could make it overflow.
Every day that passed, I found more and more reasons to look forward to a future with Luca.
"How are you holding up?" Luca asked when I was shooed out of the kitchen an hour later, but only because there was nothing else for me to help with, and the ladies had this very quick and efficient way of reheating everything, plating it, and getting it out into the dining room all hot at the same time. And I didn't want to stand in the way of all that.
"I learned how to make you sausage lasagna," I told him, feeling pretty proud of that knowledge.
"Yeah?" he asked, eyes warm. "I can't wait for that."
"Well, you won't have to wait since they're serving it tonight."
"I can't wait for you to make it for me in our place," he clarified, wrapping an arm around me.
"I can do that. And I can make antipasto rolls too. I am half an Italian cook already," I boasted, even though I clearly had a lot to learn still.
"Did they grill you in there? I have no idea what it is like in that kitchen. No men are allowed," he told me, fingers absentmindedly stroking my hip. "For all we know, they are running a black market diamond business in there."
To that, I laughed, but only half because it was ridiculous, the other half was because I could actually see that group of women pulling something like that off.
"They were really nice. They were all really worried about you. And they are happy you found someone who can cook."
"They show their love with food in this family," he told me, leaning down to press a kiss to my lips.
"I like that," I admitted. "I want to learn it."
"You already do it, sweetheart," he told me, giving me a squeeze.
Did he mean that the way I was taking it?
That he knew I loved him?
There was no denying it anymore. Even if I wanted to, it wouldn't be even halfway believable.
I loved him.
With everything I had.
"Do I?" I asked, hoping to get more from him.
"Say it, Romy," he demanded, pulling me closer. "I know you feel it. I want to hear you say it."
I had said it.
Over and over and over.
To him in the hospital after he fell asleep. In the late nights when bad dreams woke me up and I found him still sleeping soundly. To the door right after he left to go out for a few minutes to run some work errands.
I said it in my head a million times a day.
But I had been so worried it was too soon to say it to his face.
But there was no use denying him if he was explicitly asking it of me.
"I love you, Luca," I told him, voice a little breathless.
"Yeah? One more time," he demanded, eyes going soft, gushy.
"I love you," I told him, voice louder, more sure.