The question hit so fast I almost laughed from the force of it.
“I’m just visiting right now.”
She seemed to consider that answer and find it disappointing.
“Well,” she said at last, “you should probably stay longer. Mom likes you already.”
“And you?”
She shrugged, as if trying not to reveal too much too soon. “I’m still deciding.”
“Terrifying,” Lily said from the doorway.
I turned and found her leaning there, smiling in a way that made it immediately clear she had come to rescue me, or at least to give me an honorable exit route if I needed one.
“Mom,” Victoria gasped, scandalized. “I was bonding.”
“You were interrogating,” Lily corrected. “And Emily may want a drink before you recruit her.”
Victoria crossed her arms. “Fine. But she can come back.”
Lily’s eyes met mine, amused and warm all at once. “That sounds very much like an invitation.”
“It sounds a little like a command,” I said.
Lily laughed. “Yes, that too.”
Then she held out a hand in welcome.
“Come on, sweetheart,” she said. “Before she decides to show you the entire house and claim you permanently.”
As I followed her back toward the stairs, with Victoria calling after us about ranking methodologies and Pietro’s many failings as an audience, I found that some of the fear I’d carried into the house had begun, slowly and against all reason, to dissipate.
“Thank you for inviting me into your home,” I said as we reached the landing. “I really do appreciate that it might be difficult to have a stranger here.”
Lily looked at me with fondness. “You’re not a stranger. You’re Emily.”
She linked her arm through mine as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “And I can see how much you love him.”
Heat rushed into my face so fast it was almost painful. I still wasn’t used to people saying things like that out loud, and for one terrible second the only thought that flashed through my head was,mafia wife, mafia wife.
Lily bumped my shoulder lightly. “Don’t be afraid. We don’t bite.”
“No,” I said before I could stop myself. “You shoot.”
I winced the moment the joke left my mouth.
Lily laughed. Really laughed. “That’s a good one. I’m telling Sandro later.”
“Oh no. Please don’t.”
She let out a soft sigh, though her smile stayed. “My husband can be intimidating, and in many ways he must be. But he’s also a loving man, and a fair one.” She squeezed my arm gently. “You love our Pietro, and he loves you. Sandro would never hurt you for that.”
She led me the rest of the way downstairs and into the kitchen, which managed to be both enormous and warm at once. Copper pans hung above the island. Someone had left a loaf of bread cooling on the far counter. A vase of fresh flowers sat near the sink in a way that felt domestic rather than decorative, as if beauty here had never been an afterthought.
Lily waved me toward a stool. “Sit. Let me get you tea, or wine, or something stronger if my family has already overwhelmed you beyond repair.”
I smiled as I sat. “Tea’s good.”
