Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I’m afraid.
Not afraid of meeting his family, or the food, or making small talk. I was terrified of Matteo, of the way he made me feel. Even now, my heart picked up speed as I thought of him. Meeting his family was the natural progression in our relationship. Heck, I’d already met his sister. But it screamed serious.
I took a deep breath and admitted something to myself that I’d known for a while: I was falling for Matteo. And I was pretty sure he was falling for me.
That last thought caused a fresh wave of guilt. Matteo had done so much for me—the manual labor, the errands, teaching me to ride the Vespa, taking the trip to Positano. And even more than those things, there were all the little ways he’d tried to make me feel safe, wanted, seen, and heard. In return, he’d asked so little of me. And that’s what I’d given him—so little.
Damn it. I’m such an idiot.
I put down the roll of paper towels, no longer having the energy to keep up the farce of cleaning, and something caught my eye on the counter: the letter from Nonna. I remembered what she’d written about a safe.
Behind the counter, I lifted the area rug. Sure enough, there was a loose tile, just like she’d described. I grabbed a screwdriver from the closet to pry it out, and underneath I found the safe. When I opened it, on top was a neat stack of euros, more than I would need to refurnish the whole house. But it was what I found underneath that made me smile.
A small glass jar of silver glitter with a note that read: Sprinkle liberally when afraid.
I shook my head, smiling despite myself. Leave it to Nonna to turn something so simple into the reminder I needed now more than ever.
I tossed the cash back in the safe, spun the dial to lock it, and didn’t bother putting the tile back before running to the door. Maybe Matteo hadn’t left yet. It was only three thirty, and I wasn’t even sure how long of a drive it was to his parents’ house.
A lump formed in my throat as I ran across the lawn to his driveway and found his truck gone. Not allowing myself another excuse today, I ran back into the shop, grabbed my phone, and dialed Matteo’s number. He didn’t answer. Not the second time I tried either. Determination still pulsed through my veins, so on impulse, I decided to call someone else instead.
Chapter 28
Matteo
“ALLEGRA? WHAT YOU doing here?”
She was the last person I’d expected to find standing out front when I opened the door to my parents’ house.
“I…wanted to come.” She smoothed her hands over her dress and scratched her neck, a nervous habit I was starting to recognize. “I hope you don’t mind that I showed up unannounced. I tried to call, but you didn’t answer.”
“Not at all.” I smiled. “I’m happy to see you. But how did you know where to go?”
The door swung open wider behind me, and my sister wedged herself between us. She pulled Allegra into a hug. “You made it.” Luciana gave me a smug look. “You’re welcome, little brother.”
I shook my head. The one hundred twenty seconds she’d spent in this world before I arrived were the longest two minutes of my life.
“Come on.” Luciana tugged Allegra’s hand. “Everyone’s out back.”
I would’ve liked a few minutes alone with Allegra before she was thrown to the wolves, but there was no stopping my sister. She looped her arm with Allegra’s and led her through the house, voices growing louder as we headed toward the back door. I followed and almost walked into Allegra as she stopped short at the threshold.
Her eyes widened. “Oh my God…”
The loggia was sprawling—stone arches draped with wisteria, two long wooden tables set end to end, all different sizes of candles flickering in mismatched holders. A half dozen wine bottles and even more half-full glasses cluttered every surface that wasn’t already filled with platters of appetizers. It was loud with laughter and overlapping arguments, the kind of chaos typical of my family.
Allegra leaned over to me and whispered, “When you said family dinner, I assumed you meant your parents and your sister. Maybe five people. Not…this.”
I chuckled. “Family dinner to Italians means everyone—aunts, uncles, cousins, friends who are family. Everyone has a standing invitation. Some months there are a dozen people, and other times it’s like tonight.” I glanced around at the crowd. “Probably about twenty-five.”
She swallowed. This group was a lot, especially for someone who’d hesitated to have dinner with me not long ago. I put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “After a glass of wine and my ninety-one-year-old great-uncle hitting on you, you’ll feel right at home.”
She managed a shaky smile, and the glow of one of the wall sconces caught her hair.