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She shook her head. “No, I’m just really good at it.”
Within minutes, she’d cut down all my defenses. I couldn’t imagine a girl this sweet surrounded by so many brothers.
She got right back to work, her hands moving with ease and no recipe in sight. Now and then, she’d stop to bite her lip, her eyes squinty, and then jump right back into action.
Peeking around her, I asked, “your mom taught you this recipe?”
She nodded. “Every year for Matteo’s birthday she would drag me and Isa into the kitchen and force us to take notes. She knew one day she wouldn’t be here to make it for him.”
I thought about her words, Yuri hadn’t mentioned anything about his mother. Maybe that time had already come? It felt too personal to ask. But then I remembered what else she said.
“His birthday? Is it today?” I had the strangest feeling of panic as if I was supposed to have known.
She giggled, “Yep, he’s thirty-six today. God,” she flinched, “he’s so old!”
“How old is Yuri?” My voice was low.
Her eyes were like saucers. “You don’t even know how old he is and you’re sleeping over?” She reached out and elbowed my side, keeping her dirtied hands over the bowl of mashed meat. My cheeks flared— she had no concept of what my fucked up relationship with her brother was. If I wanted to, I could shatter the image she had so easily crafted of him, but something about that didn’t feel quite right.
She turned back to the bowl. “He’s thirty-three.”
Older than me by more than a decade.
“Now that I think about it, he’s probably the same age as Raf.” I watched as she chewed on her bottom lip.
I leaned forward onto my elbows and craned my neck to look at her. “Who’s Raf?” My voice had a melody to it, teasing.
She jumped and pulled a hunk of meatball into her hand to begin rolling it. “He’s my asshole bodyguard.”
I narrowed my eyes, looking past the mask that she quickly put back in place. “And this bodyguard of yours…”
“Follows me everywhere I go.” She rolled her eyes and plopped the first meatball down on the greased pan. “He even sits in the back of my lecture halls during class!”
I sucked in a breath. I had forgotten about school.
It had been a week— a whole week I missed school. The whole reason I even traipsed across town to my father’s office was to scold him for meddling with my tuition bill and it hadn’t even mattered. While a seat was empty during each lecture, I was stuck here. I shook my head and forced the thought away. As far as Lucia knew, I was here of my own free will, and at some point, I had made the decision not to be the one to burst her bubble.
“He’s probably just following orders,” I offered.
She grimaced, “yeah, I guess.”
I busied myself following what Lucia did, realizing that my cooking skills were wildly unsophisticated and the array of canned and frozen meals I had made myself those late nights when my mother was still working, didn’t even compare to the craftsmanship of a true homemade masterpiece. As it turns out, their mother’s recipe called for homemade pasta— a process that I was completely unfamiliar with.Shocker.
I kept a light smile on my face while Lucia rattled on about her political science class, how hard it was, and most of all, the way she could feel Raf’s eyes burrowing in the back of her head throughout each lecture. I obliged her plight, complaining along with her— pretending not to notice the way her lips turned up in the hint of a smile every time she or I mentioned her bodyguard’s name. She was my age, give or take a year, but I was envious of her carefree nature. The way she could be so sure of herself and equally so unaware.
At the same time, I wondered how a girl like her could grow up in a household of murderers and be none the wiser. She was either an extremely convincing actress or Yuri and his brothers really did try their best to shield her from the bloodshed.
She bumped her hip against me, pulling me away from my thoughts. Whether she was worried about the future of my botched pasta or preferred to do it herself, I was happy when she took over. “I’ve never seen my brother like this before.” Her cheeks rose with a warm smile.
“Is that a good thing?” I asked, suddenly feeling my chest tighten.
“I think so,” her eyes locked with mine, the air in the room growing heavy. “He’s hard to read normally but not when I caught him looking atyou.”
I rinsed off my hands, taking extra time to scrub the flour and spices from underneath my nails. I poured myself into the job, trying my best to ignore the way my stomach was doing flip-flops. “Has he really never brought anyone else here?”
She lifted her hand in the air, “Te lo prometo,” When my eyebrows raised in question, she smiled, “I promise you! Never.”
My mind wandered as the sun set beyond the hill of the Zaragoza backyard. On a timer, the pool lit up in a deep blue. Against the orange and purple sky, it was breathtaking. I let myself wander toward the window, lost in the setting sun while Lucia worked silently behind me.
