Page 84 of My Big Fat Shifter Wedding

Another slap to my chest, and while it didn’t hurt, I had to find out what vitamin regimen she was on and get my mother on it.

Oh my god! My mother!

“One moment,” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket. I’d wanted to pick my mother up, but she knew that I would want to get here right on time and she wanted to be able to leave whenever she could, so she decided to take an Uber instead and meet me here. “I need to check if my mother has left yet.”

“Left what yet? Is she dead?” Nonna asked. I didn’t dignify that with a response.

My mother had texted ten minutes earlier to let me know that she had finished getting dressed and had her purse all packed to go so all she had to do was use the restroom and then order her Uber. As much as I would very much prefer to be her driver, I understood that my mother enjoyed her independence and her choosing to use a rideshare was a perfectly convenient option.

Especially since I still hadn’t found Olivia.

I sent her a quick text, asking her to update me when she was in the Uber with an ETA, before switching to Olivia’s contacts and telling her that I had arrived and was possibly kidnapped, depending on how intensely one squinted at the definition of the word. With that done, I decided to keep my phone in my hand so I could feel it buzz, because with the music, the chatter, and engaging stories about my future grandmother-in-law blowing up wartime supply lines, I certainly wasn’t going to hear the buzz.

I suppose I could put the ringer on full volume, but that seemed borderline criminal.

“Sorry about that,” I said, looking up to address the elder matriarch and little brother again, only to find that the two were now nearly on the opposite side of the room, Nonna holding onto another woman’s arm while gesticulating emphatically.

What a character.

Freed once more, I made my way to the kitchen, figuring that if she was helping anywhere, it was likely there. For the first time since I had ever been in the Rizoli residence, I managed to make it a solid twenty feet without anyone stopping me or putting hands on my person.

Which meant I got to watch.

That sounded way creepier in my head than I meant it to, but when I was so focused on impressing the Rizolis and being a good guest, it was difficult to take in all the background details of their life that were written so lovingly in the décor of the home. Now that the spotlight was off me, so to speak, I got to pick up on a lot as I strode toward the kitchen.

The first being that the family sure did love gold. While I would never consider their interior design gaudy, it was on the more maximalist side of things, which would usually lead me to expect different areas to have different metallic aspect colors, something silver, something bronze, and, of course, gold. But no. As far as I could tell so far, there wasn’t a lick of silver anywhere in the house other than the kitchen, and technically, that was chrome, not the precious metal. Also, everyone except the kids wore jewelry, and that was all gold as well. Maybe it was a family thing. Or maybe it was a fashion thing? I’d have to ask Amanda and hope she didn’t start talking about the seasons again, so I could actually understand.

“Maybe it’s a traditional thing...” I wondered to myself.

The second thing I noticed was that for a family who supposedly went on big group hikes and runs together every single month, there wasn’t a whole lot of workout equipment around. I was aware that they could have a home gym, and there were various sports balls tucked into forgotten corners, no doubt left there by a young kid who wasn’t supposed to be playing inside, but there were no shoes. No hiking sticks. No mudroom. Surely it had to be somewhere, which spoke to the fact there was more than half the house I’d never laid eyes on. The rich were something else, that was for sure.

This time, I didn’t take the route that would lead me past the astrology altar, but I did see a calendar nailed to the wall at the end of the hallway. It was a little different from the calendars I was used to. When I looked closer, I realized it was a lunar calendar.

“Huh, for being so into the moon, I would expect a bit more silver.”

“What was that?”

I didn’t know how it was possible for so many loud and enthusiastic people to constantly sneak up on me. I jolted and spun to see Serafina coming out from a side room, holding a baby in each arm. I had to say, they were looking quite healthy from what little I knew about babies.

“Would you like me to hold one of them for you?” I asked on instinct. Even if I wasn’t the most experienced with children, I knew exhaustion when I saw it, and if I had to hazard a guess, she’d likely been breastfeeding in private.

“Oh my god, yes!” she exclaimed, then caught herself. “I mean, that is, if you want to...”

The blush that crept into her cheeks reminded me of Olivia, and once more I marveled a bit at all the different combinations of similarities and traits that family members could share.

I slid my phone back into my pocket, sternly reminding myself to check it once I was done holding the baby. “I don’t mind at all. I’d offer to hold both of them, but I don’t think I’ve reached that level of expertise yet.”

The laugh she let out was exhausted, but genuine, and she carefully handed over one of the cooing babies to me. I had to say, even though the anxiety that so often liked to undercut me was whispering in the back of my head, it was hard to believe a word it was saying with how much members of the family were already trusting me. After all, I was holding a baby. Surely that had to be one hell of a mark of approval.

“What’s his name?” I murmured, looking down at the precious face that seemed so small within my arms. Sometimes, when I gazed at something so tiny and sweet, it was hard to imagine that it would grow up into an adult with their own career, their own failures, scars and successes. Sometimes, it made me feel so very small, and sometimes, it made me feel wonderfully connected to things. Thankfully, as I held the little one, I felt the latter more than the former.

“That is Castor,” Serafina answered, bouncing the one she was holding. “And this is Pollux.”

“Those are beautiful names.”

“You think so? Thank you! They are a bit less... traditional, but my husband was the one who suggested them and I wanted to feel more connected to them.” I nodded along, not quite knowing what she meant, but she continued. “You know, I understand what it’s like marrying an outsider, with Cillian being Irish and all. I thought my parents were going to have a heart attack when he first asked permission to court me.”

Huh. Even though I had been vaguely aware that Serafina had also married someone who wasn’t Italian, I had kind of forgotten about it and it was surprising to hear that it was such a big thing. Well, I had to say, the family must have done a whole lot of growth, because so far, other than calling me the big white guy, I hadn’t really felt set apart for being Danish American. It just went to show that anybody could learn when they truly cared to.