He turns the door handle and shouts, “Buona sera,” as we walk in.
“Ciao.” Juliet comes forward and kisses me on both cheeks.
“I’m relieved I know at least one person here.
“This is my fiancé, Dante.” A tall man, similar to Marchello in looks, comes forward.
“Pleasure to meet you.”
“Thanks, you too.”
“Let me show you around,” Juliet says, leading the way. As we pass through the living room, I meet Sal and Francesca, who are sitting on the couch drinking red wine while nibbling on cheese and pepperoni.
When we walk into the kitchen, the smells of basil and garlic fill the air and a woman is slicing fresh mozzarella and laying it on a plate next to slices of fresh tomatoes.
She turns to me, wiping her hands on her apron, and gives me a hug. “Prende, welcome.”
Apparently, Mama is not the Queen because she hugs, and she cooks.
“This looks incredible,” is all I can eke out.
“Help yourself to some wine. Did you meet everyone?”
“Yes, yes, I did. You have a very nice family.”
I’m so nervous right now, I can’t get to the wine fast enough.
17
Marchello
Riccardo shows up with a box of Macanudos and all the men go outside to smoke while the women stay behind to discuss Juliet’s upcoming wedding. I watch Dante puffing away, looking so relaxed, and wonder how he handles having the responsibility of this whole family on his shoulders. It can’t be easy.
Hell, I’m on the fringes and Prende’s black book has me freaked the fuck out.
My stomach growls with hunger at the smell of fresh dough baking in the oven. The kitchen, where we ate all our meals as kids, is still my favorite spot in the house. I loved talking to Mama while she cooked delicious meals and I did my homework. Because I was the last child, like most mothers, she held onto me the longest.
Hell, even my brothers try to shield me from the more gruesome aspects of our business. I appreciate it, but still, I’m a man and I can handle it.
Isabella, mother’s younger friend of many years and our nanny when we were little, removes a hot pizza with prosciutto and mozzarella from the oven and slides it onto a cutting board while Mama puts another pizza, topped with veggies, into the stoneware oven. I notice when Mama starts to set the table, Prende gets up to help her.
Once the pizza is cut, we help ourselves. I add arugula to mine and Prende sprinkles hers with red pepper. The room is filled with the buzz of my brothers, and it makes the warm kitchen all the warmer.
I take a seat at the wood table while others crowd into the booth on the other side of the table. We’re in the spots we’ve had our entire life except for Dante. Once everyone is situated with their food and wine, I raise my glass and, using the back of a fork, gently tap the glass,ting ting ting,to get everyone’s attention.
“I have an announcement.”
“What is such a big announcement, Marchello?” Mama wants to know. I’m sure she’s annoyed because the pizza is getting cold. After a lifetime of worrying about Papa, she’s not keen on surprises. I can appreciate that, but considering the circumstances, we don’t have time to follow proper protocols.
“Prende and I have been seeing quite a bit of each other and we’ve decided to make it official. We’re having a small wedding at my condo next Sunday and you’re all invited.”
“What? This is too fast,” Mama protests. “We don’t know her, she’s not even Italian,” she blurts out.
“I think it’s wonderful,” Juliet exclaims and leans towards Prende and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Congrats,” Francesca raises her glass, and my brothers follow suit.
Dante gives Mama a warning look to let it be and Sal leaves the table to grab more champagne. On his way back, he bends and whispers something in Mama’s ear.