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“Why are there only six plates?” I ask, walking over to the oversized dining room table.
“What’s going on?” Val asks.
“Sit down.” Ma points at me then at the chair like she did the time I trampled all over Mrs. Ricci’s flowerbed when we were playing hide-and-seek as kids.
“You too, Valentina,” Giada says, eyeing the chair next to me.
I slide out the chair for her, and she stares at me with “what the hell is going on?” written all over her face. But the hell if I know, so I shrug.
“We’ll be back.” Ma and Giada disappear into the kitchen.
Val turns to me. “What the hell? Do they know? Is this some kind of Italian setup?”
“I don’t know. My brothers and Blanca said Ma canceled dinner.”
Just as she’s about to speak, Pa opens the front door, laughing with someone—Val’s dad.
“Dad?” Val asks. She might be the only Italian girl who refers to her dad by the American name.
“Hey, kiddos,” Pa says. “Oh, Valentina, you look beautiful as always.”
She stands, and they kiss each cheek.
“Dominic.” My name comes out of my father’s mouth like razorblades traveled up his throat, and he barely can look at me.
It’s guaranteed. Our parents know something.
Mr. Cavallo puts his hand out in front of me. “Dom.”
“Mr. Cavallo, nice to see you.”
He nods, but I don’t miss the slight flare of his nostrils. My stomach rumbles and my chest constricts as he stares at me for a second before he lets our hands drop.
Our mas come out of the kitchen.
“Perfect timing,” Ma says to Dad and Mr. Cavallo. “Sit.”
Between Ma and Giada, the table is filled with all the traditional Sunday dishes.
“Prayer,” Giada says, holding out her hands.
Val’s hand is cold as it slides into mine, and I squeeze it with the hope of relaxing her. There’s no way our parents found out. This is just some “fix them up” tactic they’re trying.
My dad says the prayer since it’s our house, and we all say amen and our hands drop.
“How was Vegas?” my dad asks, filling his plate as the dishes get passed. “Your cousins? Good?”
“Yeah. Everything went well.”
“Just well?” Giada asks, eyeing me.
I shrug. “I think the bride and groom-to-be had a good time.”
She presses her lips together. “Did you know that Valentina was there at the same time as you?”
It’s not really a question. She’s baiting me.
“Did you talk to Carm?” I ask ma. He’s such a fucking mama’s boy. He can’t keep a secret to save his life.
