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Her head snaps toward me and I shake mine once. When she frowns, I lean closer.

“She wants to cook again.”

That's all it takes.

Her expression changes as she looks back at Nora, who's still smiling down at that ridiculous mug.

“Oh,” she says again, softer this time. “Yeah. I'd love to try it.”

Nora looks up and smiles, a real one, and something warm settles in my chest.

She doesn't sit back down. She keeps the mug in her hands for another few seconds before setting it carefully on the table, like it's something that could break for reasons that have nothing to do with ceramic.

Her grandmother is stirring whatever is in the pot now, and Nora's attention shifts toward the stove.

Dex breathes in. “What smells so good?”

“Sugo,” Nora says.

“Salsa,” Chiara corrects.

“Sugo.”

“Salsa.”

Their grandmother says something sharp from the stove and both women shut up.

I bite the inside of my cheek.

“Don't laugh,” Nora warns me.

“Wasn't.”

“You were.”

“Didn't make a sound.”

“Your face did.”

She turns back toward the stove.

And then something changes, small enough that I almost miss it.

She walks over to her grandmother and peers into the pot, saying something in Italian. The old woman answers without looking at her. Nora says something else and gets an offended look thrown her way.

Chiara laughs.

“What?”

“She told Nonna it needs more basil.”

Nora's grandmother starts arguing and Nora argues right back.

I smile because I don't understand a fucking word, but apparently tomato sauce is serious business in this family.

Then her grandmother does something I don't expect.

She holds out the wooden spoon.