“I’m charming.”
Marco snorts. “Charming. Right.”
“Something to add, little brother?”
“Nothing you’d want to hear.”
The table goes quiet. Nico’s smile doesn’t falter, but his pupils contract. His chin lifts a fraction.
Cassia clears her throat. “The roast is excellent. Is this a family recipe?”
God bless her. Gia jumps on the redirect.
“Our mother’s. Nonna Rosa keeps it locked in a safe. She won’t share it with anyone.” Gia’s voice goes soft. “She used to make it every Sunday. We’ve kept the tradition.”
“It’s important,” Cassia says. “Traditions like this.”
“Did your family have Sunday dinners?”
A pause. Cassia’s fork stills on her plate. Her gaze drops to the table.
“Not like this.”
Renzo reaches for the bread. Passes it to Cassia without being asked. Their eyes meet. He nods. She takes the basket.
My brother doesn’t pass things to people. Doesn’t acknowledge new additions.
But he passed her the bread.
Dessert is Nonna Rosa’s bread pudding. She brings it out herself, shuffling to the table with the dish held like a holy artifact.
“You too skinny,cher,”she tells Cassia, serving her double. “Eat. A woman needs curves.”
“Nonna,” Gia protests.
“What? I speak truth.” Nonna Rosa pats Cassia’s shoulder. “You a good girl. Good eyes. Kind eyes.” She shoots me a look, half accusation, half warning. “You be good to this one, hear me?”
“Yes, Nonna.”
She shuffles back to the kitchen, muttering about foolish men who don’t know when they got somethin’ precious right in front of they face.
Cassia catches my eye across the table. Cheeks flushed.
I look away first.
She excuses herself after dessert. Work to do. She squeezes Gia’s hand as she goes. Thanks Nonna in the kitchen.
I watch her leave. The sway of that dress. The curve of her shoulder as she disappears through the door.
Nico catches me watching. His eyebrow rises. He says nothing.
Smart man.
I escape to the garden.
The jasmine Mama planted fills the air with sweetness. The bench where Papa proposed sits empty under the live oak, waiting for someone to use it.
I haven’t sat there since she died.
