“What’s funny?”
His eyes crinkled in amusement. “You were all knees and elbows.” His hands slid around mymiddle, and he palmed my lower stomach. “A cute kid that grew into a beautiful woman.”
I leaned into him. His presence was a shield from the passive aggressiveness that permeated the house.
“Why don’t we head into the dining room? Your father’s already in there.”Her tone was light but decidedly less chipper than a minute ago.
Mom left the room, and Luca pulled me closer to him. “Wow.”
“Yeah. If you think she’s something, wait till you meet my dad.”
We walked into the dining room, and Dad stood up, puffing out his chest. Sticking his hand out, he waited for Luca to grasp it before he spoke.“You must be Luca.”
“I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Dad grunted, dropping his hand. “We’ll see about that.”
Mom carried in the pot roast androlled her eyes. “Come on,Greg, leave the poor boy alone.” Setting her classic blue LeCreuset down, she motioned to the table. “Sit down,kids.”
Luca pulled my chair out and scooted me in before taking the seat next to me. Mom dished out the pot roast, mashed potatoes, and veggies, adding more carrots to my plate than any other.
“This looks wonderful, Mrs. Mitchell.”
“Thank you, sweetie.”
After a few tense moments of chewing,I glanced around the table.
Luca focused on his meal, his eyebrows scrunchingup. It was a telltale sign he was breaking down the ingredients. I knew he would quiz me on the way home about which herbs my mom used and if I tasted the hint of this or that. It was his favorite post-dinner game.
Shifting my focus, I looked across the table at mom. She cut off a small piece of meat and nibbled it while she eyed my gorgeous man. I could almost hear her thoughts.
How did she get such a handsome man?
She must be doing something sexually to keep him interested. Oh,Jesus, help her.
At least he’s a man. Maybe we’ll get those grandkids.
Her eyes swung toward me, and the age-old urge to shrink and make myself smaller hit. Over a decade out of the house, and I still felt those adolescent digs. When her gaze dropped, her mouth pinched to the side, and I wondered which diet I would find in my inbox when I got home. The irony? She was always dieting, always miserable, and always hangry as hell. I couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t on some diet or new “life plan.”
Dad cleared his throat, jarring us all from our inner thoughts.
“So,Luca, what exactly do you do?”
Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Luca swallowed. “Property development in the city. We’re currently buying up old factories and renovating them into condos and office space.”
Dad nodded thoughtfully. “You’re going to revitalize the city?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Do you think morehigh-pricedcondos are what the city needs?”
“I—”
“Don’t you think gentrifying neighborhoods is the wrong answer?”
“Actually—”
“You’re essentially pricing people out of their own neighborhoods.”