Luca laughed while I just stared. “Why don’t you let us get married before you start crocheting baby blankets?”
She rolled her eyes, dismissing me, and walked Martin over to the bar.
“I see where your mom gets her . . .” Luca studied my grandma as she ordered an elaborate drink.
“Good boy. It’s best not to name it. Is that your Nonna?” I tipped my head toward a table near the kitchen.
Luca’s face lit up, and he dragged me over to the small but sturdy woman holding court over the Moretti aunts, uncles, and cousins. She looked every bit the matriarch Rosa described with her salt and pepper hair tied into an elegant chignon and her ears, neck, wrist, and fingers dripping in diamonds.
“Luca,” she said warmly. Marco helped her stand from her chair, clapped Luca on the shoulder, and headed to the kitchen. “Look at you.” Luca bent over to allow Nonna to kiss his cheeks. “Such a handsome man.” After looking her fill, she turned her attention to me with a tight-lipped smile. “And this must be Sasha.” Her thick Italian accent caressed my name, making it sound romantic as hell.
“Yes, ma’am.” I extended a hand.
Slapping it away, she stepped into me, gripping my biceps and air-kissing each cheek. She said something to Luca in Italian while looking me over. It must have been positive because Luca beamed at me while he responded.
I really need to learn more Italian.
“How rude of us,” Nonna said, leading me to where she’d been sitting. “I take it you don’t speak Italian?”
“No, ma’am. I—”
“Nonna. Call me Nonna.” Luca pulled out her chair, and she sat.
I smiled at her, waiting for the dragon lady Rosa described to surface. “Okay, Nonna. I’m working through a program, but I clearly need to up my game.”
She nodded and then asked Luca, “Are you going to sit?”
Luca glanced at the room full of people we’d yet to greet but seemed to decide that risking his Nonna's wrath wasn’t worth the possibility of being rude to the rest of our friends and family. He pulled out my chair and then took the chair at the head of the long table. I hoped this was the seating chart our mothers had decided on.
“Luca, you should send Sasha to me for a few months. We could get her fluent in no time.”
“I have no doubt you could, but I couldn’t go that long without my wife.” Luca covered my hand, a dopey smile on his face.
Nonna’s face softened. “The honeymoon phase.”
“The Sasha phase.” Luca joked, picking my hand up and pressing his warm lips to my knuckles. Warmth spread through my chest, and my cheeks heated under his gaze.
Shouting in the kitchen interrupted our tender moment. “Sugar, if you’re not getting out of my kitchen, I’m gonna need you to stir that.” A voice with a soft southern drawl floated out of the open door.
As the door shut behind a waiter, Marco's booming voice cut through the noise of the party. “Answer my question!”
“I already did,” the mystery woman said sweetly.
Luca stood from his chair and calmly walked to the kitchen door. The Morettis in the room watched with amusement while my family and friends shifted uncomfortably.
“Marco doesn’t yell.” Nonna’s eyes cut to the kitchen, which had become quiet.
“He’s got a temper on him, but no. Not usually a yeller. Unless it’s Luca.”
Nonna chuckled and took a sip of water. “Those two are more brothers than cousins.”
“They’re certainly a pair.”
“What about you? Any siblings?”
“No, I’m an only child. Luckily, my cousin Sarah and I are really close.”
Nonna looked over my shoulder. “Michael’s wife?”