Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“I’m listening.”
“Eat. A lot. It’s the greatest compliment you can give my mother.”
“I already eat a lot. You’ve seen me.”
He chuckled. “That’s not a lot. You’ll see.”
We were the next in the kitchen, every flat surface containing a platter of fish, a fresh salad, roasted potatoes, lemon-crusted asparagus, octopus, marinated red shrimp in olive oil, giant pots of pasta in homemade ragu, arancini, freshly baked bread . . . more things than I could even see. “How did they make all this?”
“Generations of experience.” He handed me a clean plate. “Ladies first.” He gave my ass a playful smack.
“Con!” A woman with dark hair moved over to him and gave him a hard hug.
“Hey, sis.” He gave her a one-armed hug and kissed her temple. “Everything looks good.”
“Well, I almost killed her to make it.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I heard when we walked in. Where are the boys?”
“With Aunt Chiara. Probably climbing on her like a tree.”
“I’ll help out after I eat. Beatrice, this is Aurelia.”
I awkwardly held the plate as I extended my hand to shake hers. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
Beatrice clearly wasn’t expecting me like her mom was, because she quickly glanced at Constantine before she looked at me again, a silent conversation passing between them. “You too. I’ve heard so many stories about the two of you in town, so I’m glad I can finally put a face to a name.” She didn’t hug me like his mother did, didn’t even try to shake my hand. “Enjoy the food. I almost killed my mother when I made it.”
I laughed, but I would have laughed a lot harder if it weren’t obvious she was disappointed by me.
“Con, we’ll catch up later.” She left the line and headed toward the terrace.
I moved around the kitchen and made my plate, trying to take a bit of everything because a home-cooked meal was rare to come by. In Rome, I was usually too busy to cook, so I ate out most of the time, stopped by a little shop and got a slice of Roman pizza before I continued on my way.
Constantine and I found an empty table outside and took a seat. It was quickly filled by other people, and I was glad none of them was his sister. When I looked across the terrace, I saw her sitting with a woman her age, a young boy in her lap that I assumed was her son. The woman looked out of place with everyone there because of the way she sat, arms tight across her stomach, no food or drink in front of her, purposely staring straight ahead like she didn’t want to see anything else.
Maybe his sister didn’t dislike me. Maybe she was just occupied with this cousin or friend of hers. Maybe it had nothing to do with me.
“What do you think?” Constantine asked, arms on the table as he inhaled his food. When we went out to dinner, he executed better manners, but when he was at home, he let his guard down.
“Fucking delicious.”
He patted my thigh under the table as he stabbed his fork into another piece of fish. “Attagirl.”
When dinner was finished, I ventured into the house to use the restroom. I passed the kitchen on the way, and his mother’s words made me stop in my tracks.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” She didn’t bother to keep her voice down. She must have assumed everyone was on the terrace while she prepared the cannoli. The smile in her voice was so obvious I could picture it on her face.
“Stunning,” another woman said.
“And her hips. Did you see them?”
“Perfect for babies,” the other said. “Beautiful and tall . . . she’s a dream.”
I couldn’t believe they were talking about me. I was certain no one had ever said so many nice things about me—ever.
“I’m happy for you, Sofia,” Aunt Chiara said. “It’s unfortunate what happened with Isabella.”
“Constantine is too smart for that,” his mother said. “He knows a good woman when he sees one. I trust his judgment. I’ll ask Pope Zephyrinus to pray for Constantine. He’s thirty-three. It’s time to slow down.”
She knew the pope?
“You know how men are in this new generation,” Aunt Chiara said. “Think they have all the time in the world . . .” They changed the subject, talking about people I didn’t know, so I continued on to the bathroom.
I tidied up my hair and makeup and did my business. When I left the bathroom, I took the wrong hallway and ended up in the other wing of the house. It had its own terrace doors from a separate sitting area that no one occupied, so I didn’t think it would matter if I used it. The windows on either side were open to let the sea breeze inside, and I could hear conversations from everyone having a good time and drinking.