Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I feather my fingers over the front of the jeans I’m wearing. “I’m not pregnant.”
“You never say no to red wine.”
She’s right about that, but I’m still feeling the effects of the hangover that hitched a ride back to New York with me.
“I’m not in the mood for wine,” I say because I can’t tell her I had way too much to drink this weekend. “I’ll have sparkling water.”
Her hand jumps out, landing on my forehead. “Do you have a fever? Are you sick, my Gina?”
My heart tightens with those words.
My grandma has more grandchildren than she has fingers, but she’s always done her best to make each of us feel special.
I reach for her hand and hold it tightly. “I’m not sick. I feel like drinking water tonight.”
“I’ll get the water and the food.” Her gaze drifts over my shoulder. “It can’t be. Gina, look! He’s here in New York! I can’t believe he came to see me!”
I don’t need to glance over my shoulder to know who just walked into Calvetti’s. The expression on Marti’s face says it all.
“Daniel!” she calls out to my husband. “Come. You can sit with Gina and eat risotto.”
“Grandma,” I say her name with exasperation, lacing my tone. “I was going to spend the evening alone.”
“Nonsense.” She rubs her palms on the apron tied around her waist. “Daniel is family, and you have room at your table. You’ll enjoy your dinner with him.”
It’s doubtful, but since the restaurant is packed on this Sunday night, I don’t have a choice.
“If it isn’t my two favorite Calvetti women,” Daniel says as he approaches me from behind. “I must be the luckiest man in New York.”
Daniel stares at me from across the table.
He hasn’t said a word since Marti brought us each a glass of sparkling water, a bowl of mushroom risotto, and a large basket of bread to share.
We ate our first meal as a married couple in silence, each checking our phones whenever one of them made a sound.
I finally break the silence. “Is there something you wanted to say, Lawton?”
“Maybe, Lawton.”
I shake my head. “I’m a Calvetti.”
He smiles. “That you are. I thought you weren’t coming here tonight.”
I glance to where my grandma is standing next to a table at least twenty feet away. She’s so engrossed in conversation with the party of six she’s serving that I know she doesn’t have an ear trained to the two of us.
“I believe I said we wouldn’t see my grandma tonight.” I point at Daniel before directing my finger back at myself. “As in we, so I came alone, as in me.”
“We. Me,” he repeats. “Either way, we somehow still ended up breaking bread together.”
He punctuates that point by breaking a crispy breadstick in half. He offers part of it to me, but I refuse with a shake of my head.
“When can we go back to Vegas?” I ask. “I know you have a meeting tomorrow, but it won’t last all day, will it?”
“It might.” He takes a bite of the breadstick.
Just as I’m about to plead with him to postpone the meeting so we can catch the red-eye flight tonight, my grandma appears next to our table.
“Dessert is coming soon,” she says, even though neither of us ordered any sweet treats. “It’s something very special.”
“What is it?” I ask before stealing a small garlic knot from the breadbasket.
Marti’s gaze volleys between Daniel and me. “Guess.”
“Tiramisu,” Daniel says. “You know how much I love that, Marti.”
“I do, but no.” Her head shakes. “Try again.”
Daniel looks at me, but I take a bite of the garlic knot to force him into a second guess.
“The honey ricotta cheesecake that Bella loves.”
Impressed that he remembers my sister’s favorite dessert, I bow my head and smile. Still chewing, I wait for him to guess again, but Marti taps my shoulder.
She clears her throat. “Your turn, my Gina. What do you think it is? What do you want most right now?”
A ticket for a seat on a flight headed directly to Las Vegas, but that’s not going to appear on a plate in front of me in the next two minutes.
I take another bite of the garlic knot. I know I won’t get the answer to her question right because my grandma has her own plan when it comes to food. I don’t think I’ve ever been served anything I’ve ordered, yet every bite I’ve eaten within the walls of this restaurant or in her home has been exactly what I needed.
I point at my mouth and sign to her. I can’t talk with my mouth full.
Daniel raises his hands in reply. Sign your guess.
Marti laughs, but her eagerness to reveal the surprise gets the best of her. “Millefoglie for the newlyweds. That’s what it is.”
I start choking immediately, unsure if she really just said she made an Italian wedding cake for Daniel and me.