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Jude
I’d never meta girl’s parents before, not in any official,I’m in love with your daughter so please approve of mecapacity.
When Tali had asked if we could stop by her parents’ house before we drove home from New York, I’d said yes without thinking. Tali never asked for anything. She was the chasee, I was the chaser. She didn’t have to ask, ’cause I was always there, giving.
But now that we were pulling up to her tidy little house in the tidy little neighborhood she grew up in, I felt like a messy dirtbag who’d never get the stamp of approval.
And then what?
I was shaky as I turned off the ignition. Tali laid her hand over mine. “Look at me.”
I did. Met her pretty, soft eyes. It reassured me she’d come dressed like herself. She hadn’t had to put on a disguise. In fact, she’d bought a Never Again T-shirt at the show last night and was wearing it now with her jeans rolled up over her white Docs.
“My parents aren’t scary. They’re good people. And guess what?” She smiled.
“What?”
“I love you, and nothing that happens in there will change that.”
Reaching out, I grabbed the back of her head and pressed a hard kiss to her lips. She kept them tightly closed—most likely in deference to being parked in front of her parents’ home—but getting a taste of her sweetness was all I needed.
I pulled back, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.”
We met on her side of the car, and instead of wrapping my arm around her waist, I tucked her hand into mine. She turned to me, smiled again, and I was undone. I kissed the top of her head. “Love you too, Stripes.”
An older, shorter version of Tali opened the door before we even got to the porch. “Natalia! Jude! Come in. You’ll catch your death from the cold!”
As soon as I stepped inside the house, I was enveloped in the feeling of warmth. It was in the walls, in the air, in the people. Tali’s mom pulled me in for a hug and kissed both my cheeks.
“Thank you for having me, Mrs. DiPietro,” I said.
She swatted my chest, blushing in the same way her daughter did. “Call me Teresa, please. Mrs. DiPietro is my mother-in-law.”
I bowed my head, smiling. “Thank you, Teresa.”
Her mother told us to follow her to the kitchen, and Tali squeezed my hand. “She has never let a single one of my friends call her Teresa. You’re in like Flynn.”
But I still had to meet the dad. And the brothers. I wasn’t feeling home free yet.
Tali’s dad was in the kitchen, rolling dough on a small island with a marble countertop. Tali went straight to him, kissing his cheek. He was small, like her mom, so she towered over him. It was really fucking cool to see the open and abounding affection between them.
That affection instantly melted away when her dad’s eyes zeroed in on me.
I stepped forward with my hand out. “Nice to meet you, Mr. DiPietro. I’m Jude.”
He held up his flour-covered hands. “Can’t shake right this second, Jude, but welcome to my home.”
No talk of calling him Roberto. He was firmly Mr. DiPietro.
Tali rested her chin on his shoulder. “Are you making ravioli?”
“Of course. Not every day my baby girl comes home for a visit,” he replied.
“Think you could teach Jude how to make it?”
His eyes landed on me again. There weren’t hard, only wary. “All right. Wash your hands, then get over here, Jude. Let’s see if we can make you an unofficial Italian.”
Tali helped her mom with chopping up a salad while her dad taught me the art of ravioli making. Mostly, he made me watch, but eventually, he instructed me to roll up my sleeves and get to work, filling each perfect circle with ricotta.
