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I finish buttoning my chef whites as I face my boss, Mrs. Pistorio. She and her husband opened Pistorio’s, the Italian restaurant where I work, over thirty years ago. I started as a hostess while I was in culinary school and Mama P quickly put me to work in the kitchen once she learned what I could do. The kitchen had been run by their family since day one, but as Mama P got older and couldn’t stand on her feet for too long, I took over as Head Chef. She says I’m like the daughter she’s never had and her sons are a bunch of useless chooches that she can’t trust with such responsibility.
“I’m okay,” I assure her. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.”
“Like what?” she asks.
So here’s my dilemma: Whenever I have a problem that needs hashing out, I go to my mom for advice. Yes, I’m thirty-one-years old and I shouldn’t need to go to my mommy, but she’s my best friend, as strange as that sounds. I don’t go a single day without talking to her and I have breakfast with my parents almost every week. She’s tough as nails and can be a little overbearing at times, but she’s also an incredible listener and she actually has a really great sense of humor when she’s not too busy busting your balls. Mama P reminds me a lot of my mom, though she’s slightly less intimidating. Obviously I can’t tell my parents or my brother about the whole drunken wedding situation so if I’m going to solicit anyone’s advice, it would be hers.
I sigh. “You have to promise not to judge me for what I’m about to tell you.”
Thankfully, Mama P and I are the only ones here right now since she and I handle the prep on most nights. We don’t open for a few hours so the auxiliary staff hasn’t clocked in yet.
“I would never judge you,” she insists.
“Okay...so you know how I was in Vegas for that bachelorette party?”
“Sì.” She nods.
“Well, I kinda...sorta had a little too much to drink. A lot too much to drink, actually. And I did something I wouldn’t have done sober.”
Mama P arches her perfectly sculpted brows. “And that would be...?”
I wince. “I got married. To my brother’s best friend, Drew.”
She straightens her spine and gives me a toothy smile. “Well, that’s lovely dear. Congratulazioni.”
Huh? That’s the last reaction I was expecting.
I throw my hands up. “What do you mean, ‘Congratulations!’? That doesn’t really apply to this situation, Mrs. P.”
She frowns in confusion. “Why not? Marriage is a wonderful thing.”
“True...for some people anyway. But getting married while you’re completely blitzed isn’t exactly a smart thing to do.”
She shrugs. “Sometimes the heart recognizes its match before the head does. Love is a funny thing.”
“Love? I didn’t say anything about love.”
“Do you not love him?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I mean, I like him. A lot. And we’re really compatible...sexually. But I definitely don’t love him. I barely know him.”
“Joseph and I knew each other for one month before we married. And we were like newlyweds for the next forty-five years until he passed.” She makes the sign of the cross. “God rest his soul.”
I lean my hip against the stainless counter. “Mrs. P, no disrespect, but times were very different back then.”
She gives me an oh please gesture.
“Again, sometimes the heart recognizes its match before the head does. It doesn’t matter what the date on the calendar says, or how long you have known each other. Love is not always rational so stop trying to force it into some carefully constructed box. Carlotta, you’re a free spirit. You have zest with everything you do. You’ve never been a conformist. Why would you start now?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s complicated. Drew and Brody are like brothers. If Brody found out what happened...he’d be pissed and he’d take it out on Drew.”
Mama P’s lip twitches. “Well, technically speaking, they are brothers. In law.”
Did I mention that she can be a smartass?
“Not for long. We’re getting the marriage annulled.”
“Why would you do that?”
