by Layla Frost
He threw open my door, closing it behind me before getting in on the driver’s side. “Good day, huh?”
“Oh, just the best.” Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the headrest and inhaled. Exhaling, I rolled my head to look at him as we pulled out of the lot. “I’m ready for my hero party.”
“Coming right up.”
When I realized we were heading in the opposite direction of my apartment, I started laughing. “I was kidding. My hero party was going to be showering the pesticide stink off and flopping face first into bed.”
“What time do you work tomorrow?”
“Not until one.”
“Did you get Sunday off?”
When he’d come in to Java Brew earlier that day, he’d asked me to take Sunday off for family dinner. As overwhelming as his family could be, I really wanted to see them again.
I shrugged. “I wasn’t asking the jerk face, so I left a message for Jerry. He’ll be in tomorrow, and I’ll find out then.”
“Send me a text so I can let mom know.” Theo parked in front of a twenty-four-hour diner and turned to me. “I’m thinking a greasy burger, a thick shake, and a piece of pie as big as your head.”
“My head isn’t that big.”
“Fine. A piece as big as Luc’s.”
“I’d be careful mentioning Luc and food in the same sentence. I think he has a food sense that might start to tingle.”
Theo laughed, reminding me for the millionth time how much I loved when he did it. “I’m going to tell him you said that,” he teased as he opened his door.
“Don’t you dare.” I got out of the car, turning to face him as he got near me on the sidewalk. “Do not tell him I said that.”
“Why?”
“I want him to like me.”
“Oh?”
“He’s your best friend and your business partner, or whatever the technical term is. Of course I want him to like me.”
Putting his arm around me, Theo kissed the top of my head as we headed toward the restaurant. “Don’t worry, he does.”
“Good.”
Following the sign, we sat ourselves at a booth in the back corner away from the few other diners, most of whom were teens, drunk, or drunk teens.
The server was over quickly to take our order. Theo went with his original plan, including a chocolate malt milkshake. I got a double order of mozzarella sticks with honey mustard, and a strawberry milkshake with extra, extra whipped cream.
When the server left, Theo lifted a brow. “That’s an interesting order.”
“When I was a junior, I had this friend, Sasha.” I grabbed a few coffee creamers and stacked them as I spoke. “She was an exchange student from Russia, super heavy accent when she spoke, so she didn’t do it often. But she loved to read. A couple times a week, we used to take the bus from school over to the library. We’d park our behinds on the comfy chairs and stay there until close, reading and enjoying the quiet. Then we’d go to a really greasy spoon down the road, and this is what I always got.”
There. I shared.
Theo’s eyes were soft and warm as he looked at me, but he didn’t make a big deal or make me uncomfortable. “It’s good for a cheese fanatic like you. Not as good as a burger with extra bacon, but good.”
“Fanatic?” I asked.
“Total fanatic. I’m surprised you haven’t moved to Wisconsin.”
“Hmm.” I rubbed my chin like I was thinking. “That’s a good idea. I’ll order one of those cheesehead hats and start gathering boxes.” I flicked one of the creamers at him.
“Don’t even joke,” he said, fighting to look serious as he blocked it and shot it back.
“Hey, a fanatic like me needs to be where I belong. The mothership is calling me home.” Doubling up, I launched two creamers in his direction.
Within moments, creamers and sugars were flinging back and forth in all-out Formica warfare.
The drunks were not amused.
I was amused enough for all of us.
···
“Gattina, you’re making me nervous, and it’s my family.”
“Sorry,” I said, smoothing my skirt.
I’d been self-conscious and caught off guard when I’d met Theo’s family for the first time. After experiencing the wardrobe planning insanity that came from knowing I’d be seeing them, I much preferred his original blitz attack method.
My limited choices meant I’d dusted off the green floral first date dress, skipping the leggings and sweater. It was way too hot. The end of June was trying to go out on a high note, with temperatures for the week forecasted to be record breaking. It was hot and muggy, my hair poofing up the moment I walked outside.
Theo grabbed my hand as I smoothed my skirt again, pulling it to his mouth for a kiss. “You look gorgeous, Dahlia. My family already loves you. I had to pull the phone away from my ear yesterday when I told mom you’d be coming.”
I smiled at that, my shoulders relaxing. Needing to pull myself from my thoughts, I looked out the window at the dark clouds rolling in. “It looks like it’ll rain soon.”
“It’s supposed to. Mom said Dad already expanded the table and brought the chairs up from the basement since eating outside won’t be happening.”
“Will Tina, Julie, and the girls be there?”
“They should be. If they are, I’ll make sure to check my pockets before we leave.”
Since no love letters had been discovered after the swimming session, I wasn’t worried.
Not too much, at least.
“Are Tina or Julie married?” I asked.
“Tina is. Gabe’s work keeps him busy, but he should be there tonight. Julie’s husband died in an accident a few years ago.”
“Since Kat is an Amato, does that mean he was your cousin?” At Theo’s chin lift, I put my hand on his knee. “I’m so sorry for you, and Julie and Kat.”
Theo rubbed his jaw, his body tensing. “Even with Marc gone, Julie’s family, so we take care of her and Kat.”
“That’s awesome.”
Theo flicked on the blinker to turn onto his parents’ street. “Do me a favor, don’t bring it up with them. Kat was old enough to know him but too young to understand.”
“I’d never say anything,” I said with a little more emphasis than necessary. At Theo’s surprised look, I shared again for the second time that weekend. “I remember how frustrating it was as a kid to be having a good day, and then someone ruined it by asking about my parents.”
He covered my hand on his knee, giving it a squeeze as we pulled into the driveway. “Then you get it.” As we walked to the front door, Theo grabbed my hand. “I forgot to tell you. Mom’s off the curry kick, and now she’s focused on Southern food. Dad was trying to convince her to not fry chicken, worrying she’d set the house on fire again.”
“Again?”
“There was a beignet incident a few years ago.”
“It wasn’t an incident, Theo,” his mom said from the doorway. “I followed the recipe exactly!”
“Did the recipe end with, ‘Call the fire department and a contractor to replace the kitchen cabinets’?”
Rachelle’s lips curved up. “I hated those old cabinets anyway.”
Theo kissed his mom’s cheek. “And the counters and stove?”
“That was a good stove. Reliable. This one’s temperature keeps going crazy.” Rachelle pulled me into a warm hug. “I’m so glad you could come.”
Theo chuckled from behind us. “I already told her about the hearing aid I’m going to need from you blowing out my ear drum.”
Other than rolling her eyes, she ignored him. “Come in. I made fried chicken—”
“Was Dad standing nearby with the fire extinguisher?” Theo asked, his dimpled grin growing as he teased his mom with a warm and natural comfort.
“It went completely fine,” she snapped, glaring at him before she returned his smile. “But yes, he did.”
Rachelle chatted about her seasoning
process with the chicken as we walked through the living room and kitchen into a massive dining room.
When Theo had mentioned expanding the table, I’d pictured a round table with a middle insert. One of the homes I’d lived at had one, letting it seat six comfortably. There’d been eight of us at the time, so it’d been cramped.
What he’d meant, however, was a rectangle version of that on a much larger scale. The wood was thick and beautifully swirled. Heaping bowls of food were spread around on it with bottles of wine and pitchers of water.
The conversation paused as everyone looked our way.
All at once, noise erupted as people called their greetings, some people getting up to hug Theo and me.
When it died down and everyone sat, I realized I was clutching Theo’s hand. “Sorry,” I whispered as I started to release it.
Theo kept hold of mine. “Don’t be.” Using his other hand, he pressed on his ear and squinted his eyes, murmuring, “Maybe we’ll get a two for one deal on the hearing aids.”
“Theo, Dahlia, just in time,” Lou greeted as he entered the room carrying a large platter of fried chicken. Setting it on the table, he turned to both of us, pulling us each into a tight hug. His dark brown eyes were warm as they flicked between us, his dimpled smile almost identical to Theo’s. “Bellisima, huh?” He looked over his shoulder at a man sitting at the table who I didn’t recognize. “What’d I tell you, Al? My boy did good. They’ll make bei bambini, a whole house full. Strong, my boy.”
My Italian was limited to what I’d picked up from restaurant menus and Theo. However, I was about ninety-nine percent sure ‘bambini’ was some form of baby.
“Dad,” Theo said, his voice a low warning.
“What? I’m a proud pop who’s ready to be a proud papa! I’m getting to be an old man,” he said, rubbing his back. “I’ve got pains.”
“You’re giving us all pains,” Rachelle said, rubbing her rear. “Now cut it out.”
I wasn’t sure of their exact ages, but I’d guess early sixties, if not younger. Lou’s hair may have been gray, but he was far from old. He was a sharp man with an angle to work.
One that apparently involved babies.
“Gattina,” Theo whispered, his eyes searching my face.
Not wanting to do anything that’d make a scene, like freak out, I forced a grin. “Sorry, it smells so good in here.”
Lou patted Rachelle’s bottom as she walked by on her way to the kitchen. “She loves to cook. Most of the time I think she could put some of those fussy TV chefs out of business. Other times, though…”
“I heard that!” Rachelle called from the kitchen, making Lou laugh as he winked at me.
Lou sat at the head of the table, Theo on one side and Rachelle’s empty seat on the other. I sat next to Theo with Julie on my other side and Tina across from me.
I’m surrounded by the people I feel most comfortable with.
Rachelle reached in next to me, setting an orange and red layered drink on the table. “Theo said you weren’t a wine fan, but I figured you could use a boost to get you through the night with these crazies.”
“Thank you, that looks awesome.” I took a tentative sip before a bigger one. “It’s delicious.”
“Blood orange Italian soda, grenadine, and cherry vodka. We tried them on a cruise last year, and they were delicious.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Lou said. “We tried them, and then we had more of them. A lot more. And then one of us got in trouble for heckling the lounge singer, and now we’re banned from that cruise line.”
With a disgruntled huff, Rachelle rolled her eyes. “It’s no loss. Those drinks were the only good thing that cruise had to offer.” She looked at me, her expression serious. “We’re not old school, but even I believe you should never sing the classics unless you can pull them off. And this singer,” she sneered, adding finger quotes, “shouldn’t have even been able to speak Sinatra’s name, let alone try to sing his songs.”
“I used to borrow the Guys and Dolls soundtrack from the library at least once a month and listen to it constantly the whole time I had it.” Despite my inner voice telling me I sounded like an idiot, I admitted, “I think I still know all the words.”
Rachelle smiled, laughing. “See? You get it then.”
“I’m an awful singer, though, so I used to just mouth the words.”
She squeezed my shoulder. “For your own fun, you should always sing out loud and proud. Just not a smarmy stereotype on a stage.”
Everyone began passing dishes of mashed potatoes, okra, and creamed spinach back and forth, piling it onto plates with the chicken and biscuits. As I started eating, catching bits and pieces of Theo and Lou’s Sox discussion, I counted twenty-seven people at dinner again. It was loud and boisterous, but not as overwhelming.
Once everyone had their food, Rachelle sat up slightly and looked down the table. “I almost forgot,” she said, more to herself than anyone as she stood and headed back into the kitchen. I heard her talking to someone, but couldn’t hear much over the noise of the room.
Lou looked over and grinned as he stood, stepping away from the table.
Theo stood too, grabbing my hand so I’d follow. “Dahlia, this is Matt and Celia, my godparents and Luc’s parents.”
I smiled at the couple who were around Lou and Rachelle’s age, accepting their outstretched hands. “Nice to meet you both.”
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Celia said, her tawny eyes twinkling. “Well, you and the banana chocolate chip muffins that I’ve yet to replicate.”
Luc entered the room, already eating a still steaming biscuit. “What’re you talking about?” His voice was teasing as he added, “My food sense was tingling.”
I elbowed Theo as Luc’s mom answered. “The muffins I can’t get right.”
“The last batch was close, though.” After shaking Theo’s hand, Luc hugged me and kissed my cheek. “I’ll offer a reward if you can get your hands on that recipe. I mentioned them to Ma once, and she’s like a woman possessed now.”
“Once?” she asked.
“Okay, more than once,” he admitted. “I’m still not the one making a recipe a day.”
She shrugged as she moved into the room. “It’s a challenge now.”
Looking at Luc, I kept my face neutral. “We’re supposed to get a new flavor tomorrow.”
I had his attention immediately. “What kind?”
“They’re a bit bizarre, even for you.”
“You’re enjoying this torment, aren’t you?” He turned to Theo. “Your girlfriend is evil.”
Theo just shrugged, but his dimples and eyes showed his amusement.
“They’re raspberry jalapeño,” I finally said. “With big chunks of sweetened cream cheese throughout.”
“That sounds… odd.” Luc’s lips pressed into a thin line before he smiled. “I’ll be in at open to get one.”
Everyone sat, Luc and his parents taking the empty seats halfway down the table. They fell into easy enough conversation with Theo’s family to show they were a regular part of the get-togethers.
Rachelle came out a moment later, holding another bowl. “I almost forgot this was still in the oven.” She held it out to me. “Theo said you love cheese, so I made it extra cheesy.”
I was tempted to hug her as I took the bowl of mac and cheese. I loved the box stuff just fine, but nothing topped the creamy homemade kind. “Thank you,” I said, taking a huge helping before passing it over to Theo.
Savoring each delicious and thoughtfully made bite, I glanced around the table again. There was something familiar about it that I couldn’t put my finger on.
Theo draped his arm across the back of my chair, his fingertips drawing small patterns on my back.
Why do I have déjà vu?
“Wake up, Dahlia.”
The dream.
Heart pounding, I turned to Theo. “Sorry, what’d you say?”
“I asked if you wanted one,”
he said, holding up a biscuit, “but you didn’t answer. You falling asleep?”
“No, of course not.” I accepted the biscuit. “Just listening to everyone.”
Only instead of the conversation around me, all I could hear was my mom from my dream.
‘Stop hiding and have it all. All you have to do is wake up, Dahlia.’
I looked around the thirty-person table, filled with people laughing and making noise.
I wasn’t alone anymore.
Chapter Nine
Big Plans
Dahlia
“Shh,” I said to Theo as we approached my apartment building after dinner with his family.
He looked around before looking down at me. “Why?”
“Mrs. Giovanni has been a terror lately. She’s the one with bionic hearing and the building manager on speed dial. Maybe even the mayor. She’s very against loud noises. And quiet ones. Laughter. Smiles too, I think.”
Chuckling, he lowered his voice. “Noted.”
I punched in the building passcode, and slowly opened the door. Once we were inside, I slowly eased it closed behind us, the latch barely making a click.
It was all for nothing, however, because I yelped loudly when we turned back around.
“Really, is all that noise necessary?” Mrs. Giovanni asked, glaring up at me. When she shifted her glare to Theo, her eyes widened.
He seemed to have that effect on people, but I was surprised Mrs. Giovanni wasn’t immune.
“Sorry, you startled me,” I said.
I thought Death was lurking the hall in a housecoat.
Actually, I think even Death is afraid of her.
She tore her gaze from Theo. “Yes, well, uhh…” Looking down, she saw the stack of papers in her hand. It must have reminded her why she was out in the lobby because some of the outrage went back into her voice. She pushed the flyer in my face, shaking it. “Have you seen this beast?”
Pulling back, I checked out the image. “Fifi? Mr. Jacobson’s dog?”
“Yes. That dog is a menace. Running wild through the hallways.” She put her wrinkled hand to her chest. “It tried to attack me.”