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Much to Salvatore’s exasperation, I had all of his bulletproof vests upgraded to deflect blades as well, because much to my chagrin, though bulletproof vests can deflect bullets, they can’t deflectbladesunless specifically designed to do so. Who knew? I argued that if I can’t buy shoes without protection, he can’t buy vests without, either. He finally agreed.
Mama exits the kitchen, laden with trays of dessert. “Come, everyone. Mangia! Even you, Salvatore. I brought your favorite.”
I eye Mama. Is the decadent cake, Salvatore’s favoritebaciowith chocolate and hazelnut mousse, a peace offering?
“Grazie, Tosca,” he says, giving me a secretive wink.
“Wait, I thought you got that for me?” Santo says to Mama. “You know I love that cake.”
“Hands off my cake, buddy,” Salvatore yells over Nonna’s shoulder.
“Wait, I thought that wasmycake,” Mario says.
“You said you got it for me!” Tavi shrugs off his jacket and starts to roll up his sleeves.
“Ah, boys, you are not getting into a fight over dessert,” I begin, as Romeo clears his throat.
“ButIwas the one that asked for thebacio.”
Oh, God. They arenotgetting into a fight over this. “No one touches my cake,” Salvatore says, ignoring me entirely.
“You guys. Hey! Hello!”
“Let them eat cake,” Rosa says as she sips her wine. “He has to fight over food once in a while, Marialena, or he’ll never really be one of us, will he?”
“Boys. Boys!” Mama says as the double doors to the dining room open and several members of staff follow her, bearing large platters with several more cakes. Mama beams. “I got one for each of you. See?”
Romeo releases Mario from the headlock he discreetly put him in, and Salvatore resumes his dance with Nonna. Tavi grunts, and Santo kisses both of Mama’s cheeks. “We won’t each need a cake, now, Mama,” he says. “Really, that was unnecessary.”
Rosa shrugs beside me. “Not so sure about that.”
I exhale. Phew. So no one will be fist-fighting over cake today.
“Ahh, drinking our wine, eating our desserts, and dancing with Nonna?” Mario says softly, so only I hear. “Your husband knows how to convince our family to love him. The only question is, has he convincedyou?”
“Oh, he has,” I say with a smile. “Nonna!” I raise my voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “I have an announcement.”
Nonna finally lets Salvatore go. I hold my hands out to him. Bending toward me, he kisses each of my cheeks before leading me to the dance floor.
Mama looks at me as Salvatore swings me out in front of him. “Yes?” she asks. “Well, don’t leave us in suspense, for goodness’ sake.”
I pat my belly. “Stiamo avendo due gemelli!”
“Twins?” Mama gasps.
Cheers erupt all around us. Nonna’s making loud proclamations and blessings on ourbambini,Romeo opens another bottle of wine, and Mama’s eyes shine.
I bask in the warmth of Salvatore’s embrace as we navigate the dance floor, my brothers argue over the last of the pastries, and my sister and Vittoria start compiling a list of baby names.
“I love you,” I whisper in Salvatore’s ear. “And thank you.”
“For what, beautiful?”
We dance, the lights ahead flickering like a chandelier in a ballroom. “For everything,” I whisper, my throat tight. “Stupid pregnancy hormones.”
I blink, one lone tear rolling down my cheek.
“Thankyou,” he says.
