Page 18 of My Daddy Is An Ex-Con

I put my hands on my hips. "What doesthatmean?"

"You were out like a light the second we landed. I had to heave you over my shoulder to bring you to your room."

"Not true," I volley. "I was awake to read the note Nonna left me."

"Yeah," Medici returns. "That’s because I slipped a cookie in your mouth when I was trying to lug you through the living room. Without the aid of sugar, you would’ve been dead weight."

Nonna scorches Medici with a murderous glare. "You’d better not comment on Mattie’s weight."

I grin triumphantly. "You heard the woman."

Medici palms his forehead. "Mattie is a twig—unlike his friends, who are fluffy and fabulous. The only reason I’m commenting on his weight is to encourage him to eat more."

I crack my neck. "Nice save."

"Speaking of food," Nonna singsongs, returning to the kitchen. "I bakedfresh cornettifor breakfast. Medici, your brothers devoured the last batch—there were none left. You’d better appreciate the way I slave away in the kitchen for you. Oh Lord, no one ever gives me any credit. All I do is cook, cook, cook—unfortunately, I love it."

A snort escapes me. "Whyunfortunately?"

"I want to ask someone to cook for me," Nonna says from the kitchen, "but I like what I do too much. I have zero leverage. I was born to cook for my grandchildren."

Medici pats my back. "That’s what Nonnas are for."

In minutes, Nonna brings out a tray of steaming, glistening sugar-dustedcornettiwith a plate of scrambled eggs and turkey on the side, hotcappuccinos, fresh tropical fruit, pistachio cream, and fresh-squeezed orange juice.

My jaw drops. "This is incredible."

"Don’t act so surprised," Nonna drawls. "I’m a professional—the best.I whipped this up in ten minutes with my eyes closed."

Medici slides acornettoonto my plate. "Here you go."

I lift my fork and knife. "I’ve never been more ready to eat breakfast in my life."

With a growl, Medici slams the utensils out of my hands. "Eat with your fingers."

I furrow my brow. "They’ll get sticky."

Nonna settles into the seat beside me. "In Italy, breakfast is a casual affair. Head to a local coffee bar—you’ll see everyone standing up as they sip their coffee and eat their pastries. Seats are reserved for the elderly—not me, bitch—and tourists."

Medici nods. "Nonna’s right."

I rise to my feet. "When in Sicily, do as the Sicilians do."

Medici cracks out a laugh. "We’re with family. You can plop your ass down."

"Let him use a fork and knife," Nonna chastises.

I shake my head. "No. I want the authentic cultural experience."

Medici glares at Nonna. "You’re making the poor boy think we don't use utensils here—that couldn’t be further from the truth."

I prod my scrambled eggs with my index finger. "I’m confused about how to eat these without a fork."

Nonna rams my fork into my hand. "Don’t be silly."

ChapterSix

Medici

Source: www.allfreenovel.com