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The expression on Christian’s face is priceless when I hand him the deed later that day.
“He gave it to you for free?”
“Yep,” I reply before collapsing onto the couch in his office.
“That’s dangerous. I don’t trust free things,” Christian mutters.
“My thoughts exactly.”
* * *
At night,I’m curled in bed with Tori after telling her the news about the family dinner. She’s already nervous and I hate to add to her stress, but I need to talk to her about this as well.
“I think we should tell your parents the truth,” I say.
Tori turns around to face me, her brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“I think we should tell the truth about the whole fake relationship. They’ll be mad, but they’ll get over it eventually.”
Tori bites her bottom lip, her expression thoughtful. “I’ll tell them,” she says carefully. “But not yet. There’s no way my dad won’t overreact and blow things out of proportion.”
I sigh. “Tori, I’m really not comfortable with them not knowing.”
She smiles, leaning forward to kiss me on the cheek. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”
“I really hope so,” I say grudgingly.
* * *
Tori’s a bundleof nerves as I drive us to Christian’s house for the family dinner, shifting in her seat and biting her fingernails. I roll my eyes before glancing at her.
“It’ll be okay, Tori.”
She looks at me sharply. “You don’t know that.”
“Of course I do. It’s my mom. She’ll like you. Plus, you’re Italian. She always used to say she would love for one of us to marry an Italian.”
Unfortunately, that doesn’t make her feel better. “I’m the worst sort of Italian girl, Lo. I can’t even cook our food.”
A laugh escapes me. “Trust me, my mom won’t mind about that.”
“Just because she can’t cook doesn’t mean she won’t want her son’s girlfriend to be able to.”
I glance at her again. “How do you know she can’t cook?”
“She and my mom used to be friends,” she reminds me.
“Oh yeah,” I mutter. “Stop stressing. She’ll love you. My mom loves everyone.”
She finally calms down enough to stop talking until we arrive at the house. I take her hand and lead her inside. Dinner’s probably still being prepared by the chef, but most of the family’s here. The kids aren’t, though, so I’m guessing they’re in their playroom.
“Hey, Lo. Astoria,” Christian says, nodding at Tori beside me.
She offers him a smile. Greetings are quickly exchanged as Katherine and Daniella move forward to give her a hug. There’s an uneasy expression on both their faces. I’m not sure why, but then I catch the look on my mom’s face.
She’s standing at the doorway leading into the living room. Tori and I walk over to her. I’m not sure I like how she’s looking at Tori, but I ignore it in favor of making the introductions.
“Mom, this is Astoria. Astoria, my mother. Martina D’Angelo.”
