Page 251 of Lorenzo

A large platter of roasted chicken sits in the center with crisp, golden skin, surrounded by bowls of pasta tossed with garlic and herbs, roasted potatoes browned around the edges, green beans, salad, and baskets of warm bread that immediately begin making their way around the table.

Donna takes the chair beside mine, and Mocha settles near her feet after a brief inspection beneath the table.

I glance down at him. “You trained him not to beg.”

“Yes.”

“That is impressive.”

“He knows better.”

Across from us, Alessio leans down slightly. “Mocha.”

Donna points at him without even turning her head.

“Don’t.”

“I was just saying hello,” he says innocently.

“You were about to feed him.”

“I was not.”

“You absolutely were.” Donna finally looks at him, eyes narrowed.

Alessio looks offended. “I resent the accusation.”

“He’ll survive without roasted chicken.”

Now he looks offended on Mocha’s behalf. “Will he?”

“He ate before we left.”

Edoardo reaches for the potatoes. “Stop trying to corrupt the dog.”

“I’m bonding with him.”

“I will let you feed him some roast chicken later. Away from the table,” Donna emphasizes. “If you feed him from your plate, that offer disappears. Got it?”

Alessio lifts both hands in surrender. “Got it.”

Donna gives him a satisfied nod and turns back to her plate as if the matter is settled.

My mind stays on the situation longer than it warrants.

There's something about the easy way that she handles the whole situation. About the way that she talks to Mocha, the way she bargained to settle the matter without a fuss, the amused affection in her voice. Once again, it’s very easy to imagine her with a child.

I look away before she notices me staring again, but the image stays with me anyway.

I try to force my mind back on the food and the rest of the people around the table.

Conversation spreads around the table as everyone settles in, overlapping in the comfortably disordered way it always does when we are together. Matteo and Tomasso get into a disagreement over something happening at one of the businesses; Diego tells them both they are wrong, and Ricardo makes a point that somehow makes the entire argument worse.

Mario lets them go on until they have nearly exhausted themselves before offering a single observation that resolves the issue.

The silence that follows lasts about two seconds before Tomasso points his fork at Matteo.

“That was what I was saying.”