AllFreeNovel
Share Us
So eating out is a treat. Eating out with Xander is the cherry on top.
I smile to myself, getting another strong shudder in between my legs.
And being eaten out by Xander? Well, that really is out of this world.
Palazzo’s is set off the main street, in a walk down to basement style building.
Its rustic brick walls, red and white checked tablecloths. The red taper candles in Chianti bottles, everything right down to the faded travel posters of famous Italian landmarks smacks of a cliché.
It smells like baked bread and food that only a migrant grandparent could make and makes me feel at home straight away. As well as very hungry.
It’s empty too, which I think is a crime, but Xander seems to know his way around, and unfazed by the lack of waiters or anyone, he sits us down at what I figure is his regular spot.
“You mentioned pancakes, waffles, or steak?” I ask, not minding he settled for Italian.
“Maria will make you whatever you want,” Xander says with pride, beaming a knowing smile.
I hear someone calling Xander’s name from the kitchen.
A tiny, ancient-looking Italian woman comes rushing as fast as she can, her back bent from age and labor. Her hands gnarled but shining with the strength of use and vigor.
“Xander!” she cries out, stopping only to raise her eyes to the ceiling and cross herself. “You so bad. You worry me by never coming back,” she says mournfully, a genuine tear of affection and relief in her eye.
I would never have thought Xander would cow to anyone or anything, but his remorse is genuine, and gently pulling her closer to him, letting her rest on his knee, he confesses every sin of his absence to her.
It’s so beautiful to watch, I have a tear in my own eye and figure they must somehow be related.
He speaks in a low, soft tone and in perfect provincial Italian with her, remonstrating himself and explaining to her why he was away for so long until she finally seems ready to forgive him.
“And who is your friend?” Maria asks in English now, casting a wizened eye over my face, reaching over to put her hand in mine and squeezing it.
“Nonna, this is Gillian,” Xander blushes.
There’s a single moment, the one I expect where Xander will make up some story about why he’s with me. Excusing himself for being with someone like me.
But it never comes.
Maria wags a finger at Xander and then smiles back at me, pressing both her hands to her heart.
“Gillian and I are in love,” Xander tells her excitedly, almost childlike. But she can already see that.
He catches the old woman as she swoons with happiness, giggling as she calls out in Italian to the kitchen.
It’s some time before we’re alone again, and I had no idea so many people could exist so happily in a restaurant with no customers.
“Your grandma?” I ask Xander, once the whole family has finished coming out to wish us well and decide for us what we’ll be eating.
I never picked Xander for Italian heritage but in the setting. The affection of his Nonna, and his dark hair. It could make perfect sense.
He looks thoughtfully at me, his huge dark eyes shining in the dim light of the restaurant and a little damp from his own reunion, I figure.
“She’s the closest thing on earth to my family,” is all he has to say.
Time seems to stand still but the kitchen doesn’t.
Plate after plate of the most delicious Italian home cooked dishes appear and Xander somehow manages to eat everything put in front of him.
It’s certainly an eye-opener for me on a lot of levels. I’ve never known or been part of a close-knit, big family. Never had a grandma and certainly never enjoyed such amazing food.
But glancing at Xander’s watch, the day is almost over. It’ll be dinner time soon and we’re still at lunch and still, nothing is done about the house.
Or the dog.
“You alright?” Xander asks, finally pushing his plate away, patting what should be a huge belly but is still washboard abs, signaling to his friends that he’s finally had enough.
I don’t want to ruin his spirits, and I certainly wouldn’t want to offend such generous hospitality.
But needs must, and if I’m up all night cleaning that damned house myself, so be it.
“I should really get going,” I tell him. Wanting to stay forever, but seriously, my life wouldn’t be worth living if...
“Go where?” Xander asks, his face falling. He points out the restrooms, but I shake my head, feeling upset by how this must sound.
“I mean, I really need to go clean the Patterson’s place,” hearing my own voice break when I remember the pool.
The crack in one of the windows.
The yard.
“Oh sweetheart,” Xander coos, rushing over to my side of the table, taking my hands in his, and brushing my hair back.
