Henry
“You do nothavea girl. I’m your girl, Henry. Your actual girl is a tattoo artist, which means, that’s what’s happening.” She’s so frustrated by this topic, it’s kind of priceless. “You will not be getting tattoos by”—she pitches her voice up and uses air quotes as she says—“your girl, unless that bitch is me!”
She looks up from chopping the garlic. It’s impossible not to laugh at how mad she is, but I'm trying.
“Stop it! This isn’t a joke, Hanky. You will only get tattoos from me. Or”—she points the knife at me—“you may wakeup with a very enthusiastic dick tattooed on your face one morning.”
I bark out the laugh I was holding. “Oh please, you would not do that.”
She raises an eyebrow and cocks her head to the side in an extremely frightening way. My balls actually clench and draw inward toward my body. A chill runs down my arms. As much as we tease each other, there’s still something lethal aboutthatlook. All men have seen it at some point or another. Just enough of a reminder that women truly run the world and they just allow us to co-exist.
“Fine. I don’t have a girl. You’re my girl from here on out,” I concede.
“Exactly.”
The braciole has been slow cooking in the sauce for most of the day, along with a few pieces of hot sausage and the meatballs I finished prepping this morning. I made her coffee and brought it to her in bed while I rolled them. She told me all the ingredients that her Nonnie used to put in her recipe, and then I added a couple more for my own spin. When I asked her if she just wanted to do it, she told me there was no way her hands would be rolling around that much meat unless it was the kind of meat that dangled between my legs. So, I listened to music and prepped dinner in our kitchen bright and early. And then I went upstairs and made love to my fiancée.
Days like today are the ones that you live for. The kind of days that you remember fully. All the details and nuances, because it’s a day that means something special to only you. That’s what today is for me.
“Is it dry enough yet?” G runs her fingers over the hanging pasta that she rolled out and cut a little while ago. Long, thick cuts of fettuccine.
“Yes. It’s good,” I say as she leans over the island and kisses me.
“What about the sauce? You want to taste it, see if it needs anything else?” I ask.
She drops the spoon and sends me an annoyed look. “Gravy.”
“What?”
“It’s gravy, Hanky”
“It’s sauce, G. Gravy is brown.”
“The fuck it is. Do NOT let this be the thing that destroys us.” She points between the two of us. “I am Italian. We call it gravy where I’m from. Which means that’s what it’s called. Capiche?”
I scrunch my nose at her, but it’s not worth the wrath. “I’ll call it whatever you want, Pixie.” I turn around and move fast enough to snag another kiss on the lips. I pull her by her belt loops closer to me as she leans back, playing mad and trying to keep her mouth from mine. “I’ll call it cream if you want.” I laugh.
She hits me. “You will not! That word has a very specific time and place. Now is not one of them.”
The small swatting movement lets me in closer so I can kiss her again. Even in a kitchen filled with garlic, onion, and Italian spices swirling around us, all I can taste on her is sugar and lemons.My sweet and tart girl.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, everywhere I go these days, I’m walking in on people making out,” Law says as he comes into the kitchen.
We brought everything to my dad’s house for Sunday dinner.
Opening the refrigerator, Law says, “I still think you should have opted for the younger one in this family, G.” He wiggles his brows at her at the same time I chuck a piece of bread at his head.
“Watch it!”
He throws his arms up. “Hurry up, I’m starving,” he laughs out. Running his hand to the side of his mouth, he whisper-shouts, “G, if he misbehaves, I’ll take his seconds. I don’t mind being a pinch-hitter.”
“Get the fuck out, Law,” I bark at him.
G yells as he leaves, “I’ll take a glass of whatever’s open.”
She grabs a hefty pinch of salt and throws it into the boiling water meant for the pasta.
“You gonna misbehave, baby?” she says as she leans in and bites my shoulder.