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"Relax, boys," a deep voice rumbles which I peg as Vincenzo’s. "No being bratty."
"You’ll get your food soon enough," Amadeo says.
"And," Tommaso drawls, "don't insult Nonna’s culinary masterpieces. Pancakes can’t compare to pistachiocornetti."
Enzo spins around. "I want bacon and eggs, damnit."
Tommaso rubs his boy’s hair. "We’ll buy some this weekend."
Mattie tugs his shirt back down. "Can we go somewhere else?"
I rise to my feet. "Of course, angel."
Everyone turns to me and Mattie. "Oh my God,’’ Enzo drawls. "Y’all got it on last night."
Cyan grins. "I knew you’d do it, Mattie boy."
Ryder sticks out his tongue. "I’m jealous. Medici is such a catch."
Mattie rests his head on my chest. "I’mthe catch. Get your facts straight."
I fight the urge to roar out a laugh—and fail. "Damn right, boy. Let your friends know who’s boss—you know your worth. That’s why I’m crazy about you."
Mattie beams. "Thank you, Daddy."
Amadeo’s eyes bulge. "Are you two Daddy and boy?"
"We’retesting outa Daddy arrangement," Mattie explains.
"Oh, the infamous test," Vincenzo drawls. "These always work well."
"Why?" Tommaso scratches his left temple. "You two look like you’re into each other."
Mattie hits me with a knowing look. "I’mready to leap headfirst into a relationship with Medici. He’s the one holding out."
My eyes roll to the whites. "That’s not what you said yesterday."
Tommaso snickers. "Y’all better get your story straight."
"Stop with they’all," Enzo drawls. "You’re not from the American South."
"Neither are you," Tommaso hits back. "You still say it."
"At least I’m American." Enzo sticks his nose in the air. "You’re straight-up cultural appropriating."
"I’m Italian," Tommaso drawls. "Roman blood, baby. We built our Empire off theft and war spoils."
Amadeo pats Tommaso’s head. "Our little imperialist."
Tommaso flexes his left bicep. "We conquered the damn globe two thousand years ago. We’re the boss."
"And you haven’t done anything since," Ryder teases.
"Except fashion," Mattie chimes in.
"And food." Nonna decides this is an excellent time to make her appearance—and she does it holding a tray of steamingcornetti.
Everyone bursts into applause. "Nonna," Tommaso shouts, burying her in a hug. "You’re right on time."
