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Tommy's face lit up. "Well, I come from a big Italian family. Loud, loving, and always in each other's business," he chuckled. "Sunday dinners are a whole thing. My grandma's lasagna is legendary."
"Ooh, I love lasagna."
"You've probably had it in Italy, right?"
She nodded.
"Would you believe me if I told you my grandma's was better?" His eyes sparkled as his brows rose in challenge.
"Maybe," she replied, laughing as Tommy rolled his shoulders like he was ready to step into a boxing ring. If they were standing, Grace was fairly certain he'd be bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Where in Italy is your family from?”
He lowered his chin and held her gaze. "Rimini."
His expression implied that he knew Rimini was in the region widely toted as the birthplace of the famous dish, and she suspected he had the kind of Italian grandmother who wouldn't dream of Americanizing her family's recipe.
Grace grinned. "Oh, boy. You might win."
"She uses fresh egg pasta sheets—none of that dried stuff—meat ragù, and béchamel sauce."
"No ricotta or mozzarella?"
"Nope."
"And with Parmigiano Reggiano, too?"
His brows furrowed, and he squinted. "Of course."
Grace held up her hands. "All right, you win."
Tommy picked up his wine and winked at her. "There was never any doubt. So, my grandmother, right? She's this tiny woman, but a force to be reckoned with." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, bringing him closer to Grace as he cradled his glass in his hand while he spoke. "Every Sunday, she'd make her famous lasagna, getting up at like four in the morning to start the process."
"Well, sure. I bet she lets that meat sauce cook all day."
"Yep. And the whole family comes over. Aunts, uncles, cousins. I grew up knowing that I was permanently booked on Sundays for dinner, and I could always bring friends, but I couldn't skip unless it was life or death. And believe me, they'd check my story if I tried to say it was when it wasn't."
"I bet holidays with your family are something special. Are you going back to Philly for Christmas?"
"Nah, I have to work since I’m the lowest in seniority around here. But yeah, it's a great time, lots of cool traditions.” He paused, looking almost wistful, then shook his head. “What about you? Do you have any Christmas traditions with your family?"
Grace gave a non-committal shrug. "Not really. Have you been to Italy?"
"Yeah, we used to go there in the summer to visit some cousins."
Their food arrived, and their conversation paused as the server set down their plates and told them to enjoy their meal. But then, as soon as she was gone, Grace picked it right back up again, eager to hear more. "Have you done a lot of traveling?"
"Nowhere near as much as you, but I was in the army before I became a cop in Philly. Got to see a bit of the world. Some good, some not so much. But it definitely shaped who I am."
"Same here," Grace said. "The part about travel shaping me, not the army part."
He grinned. "Figured."
They slipped into a brief, easy silence as they ate, and then Tommy fired off another question between bites. "So, travel writing... has it always been your dream?"
"In a way, yes," she replied, her tone light. "I got my journalism degree online so I could take classes while I got my blog started. Did you always want to be a cop?"
Tommy leaned back, considering. "Not really, but I love it. Can’t imagine doing anything else, honestly."
Grace nodded, absorbing his words. "Robin mentioned her husband was a cop in Philly, too. Is that how you ended up in Snow Hill?"
