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“Are we going to Calevtti’s for dinner to celebrate?” I push my luck enough to see a weak grin cross her lips.
“No.” She regains her composure, her expression turning stoic. “We’re not going to see my grandma tonight, and there is nothing to celebrate, Daniel.”
“I can think of a few things.” I rub my chin. “There’s our wedding. If you’re future-focused, we can celebrate our upcoming annulment. We’re bunking together for a few days. I call that a reason to celebrate.”
“I call it a disaster,” she says. “We need to go back to Vegas soon to get an annulment.”
“We will,” I promise, even though I don’t have a timetable for when I can make that happen.
Signing on a new client often takes some negotiation. Everest and I shook hands on a tentative deal, but there’s a chance he’ll want to revisit those terms.
“It goes without saying that we’re not telling a soul about this, right?” she questions. “No one can find out what we did in Vegas.”
I raise my right hand as if I’m taking an oath. “Our secret is safe with me.”
Her hand shoots in the air to mimic my movement. “And with me. We’ll get an annulment as soon as we can. No one will ever know we got married.”
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Gina
“Why do you look like that?”My grandma stands back and peers at me. “Something is different. Are you pregnant?”
The first time she asked me that last question, I was twenty-one and took offense to it. When she asked it for the hundredth time when I was around twenty-five, I realized that it was more wishful thinking than an insult.
My grandma loves her great-grandchildren, and in her world, that means the more of them there are, the better.
“I’m not, but Bella might be,” I tease.
“Dolly is pregnant?” Her entire face lights up.
I smile because Marti gave my sister that nickname when she was born, and she’s never stopped using it. I’m sure she’ll do it forever, regardless of how old Bella is.
“Who knows?” I shrug. “I know Bella wants more kids.”
“I want more great grandkids,” she confesses a fact that was never a secret to anyone. “What about your brother? Is he going to be a dad soon?”
“No idea.” I wave away the thought with a flick of my wrist. “You’ll need to take that up with him, but not right now, Grandma. Arietta’s granddad is in the hospital.”
“I know.” She nods. “I took sausage and kale soup there for him.”
I’m not surprised.
Martina Calvetti shows her love through her food, so if anyone in her world is suffering or mildly hungry, she’ll make sure they are fed.
“Sit.” She points at a vacant table near the kitchen. “I’ll bring you a bowl of mushroom risotto.”
“Is there minestrone?” I ask with a hopeful look.
“Of course,” she says before kissing my hand. “But you’ll have the risotto.”
“Because you made it yourself,” I whisper her signature phrase.
“I make it all myself.” She tosses her hands up in exasperation. “I’ll get you the food and a glass of red wine.”
I stop her with a tug on her hand before she can move. “No wine, Grandma.”
Her blue eyes narrow as her gaze drops to my stomach. “I knew you were pregnant. Who is the father?”
