Luke rolls his eyes at me, a grin pulling on his lips, as we pull into the driveway. “You’re exaggerating. Nonni’s house is not that big.”
He tugs the last bit of our luggage out of the trunk while I stand outside of the car, my mouth gaping as I study the home. It’s decorated with white Christmas lights and wreaths on the doors and poles outside.
“Compared to most homes in Covewood, this place is like a mansion.”
It’s at least ten degrees colder here than it is back home. I tug my coat closer to my body, pressing my lips together to keep my teeth from chattering. It doesn't work. The icy wind whipping past us has me shivering to my core. The scent of snow in the air excites me.
There’s movement from one of the windows by the front door. Someone is peeking through the blinds, clearly watchingus, and my excitement morphs into nervousness. Davis is in there somewhere. It could even be him watching us, and the thought alone is unsettling.
I can only imagine how Luke must be feeling. I turn to look at him, taking in the way his jaw clenches and how white his knuckles are around the luggage he’s holding. I wish there was something I could do to help take away his anxiousness, to encourage him to enjoy this time with his family, anything but this helpless feeling I’m currently experiencing.
I hear a sound at the front door, but when I twist around, expecting the front door to be open and Luke’s grandmother to be waiting for us, I see no one. That’s odd. My skin begins to itch with the feeling of being spied on.
As I turn around to offer Luke a lending hand, my feet slide out from under me, and my face smacks against Luke's firm chest. The impact sends us both tumbling to the ground, our suitcases falling beside us. We lie still for a moment, frozen in place, my body sprawled on top of his.
Luke groans and lifts a hand to the back of his head. I quickly check to see if he landed on something hard but am relieved to feel nothing but soft grass protecting his head. I scan his face, searching for any damage I might have caused with my skull.
He holds my gaze before he speaks. “Are you okay?” Something about the rasp of his voice causes my skin to flush.
“Yeah.” The word comes out in a whisper.
He reaches up, his callused fingers rough against my cheek as he pushes a lock of hair behind my ear before scanning my face. As he pulls his hand away, he reveals a clump of grass, and his face transforms into something spectacular. Lines crinkle at the corners of his eyes and mouth as his laughter fills the space between us. The sound wraps around me.
A laugh snorts out of me as I stand up and take Luke’s hand to help steady him until he’s up on his feet.
“Sorry, I’m always such a klutz.”
“Tell me about it,” he chuckles.
We share a laugh again, bumping into each other’s shoulders as we make our way up the steps and onto the porch. Luke lifts a hand to knock on the front door, but before he can, it swings open, and we’re met with three sets of eyes, all staring at us.
We blink at each other for an awkward moment until Luke says, “Hey. We made it.”
More silence. Why aren’t these women saying anything? I take them in, each of them sharing the same dark-brown eyes as Luke’s. I recognize his grandmother, Nonni, from photographs he’s shown me before. She has shoulder-length peppered dark hair, more gray than dark, tanned skin, dark bushy brows, and is way shorter than I thought she’d be.
Luke bends over to give her a hug, and the sight makes my insides feel gooey, like biting into the middle of one of my freshly baked cookies.
“We?” one of them exclaims, her eyes widening a bit as she takes me in.
I wave with a wobbly smile. “Hi, I’m Olivia.”
“You didn’t tell us you were bringing a girl with you, Luke.” His grandmother shouts and swats him in the arm playfully.
We both wince from the sudden movement. I turn to look at Luke and ask, “You didn’t tell them I was coming?”
“It must have slipped my mind.” He holds his hands up in defense.
The three women all mutter something in Italian back and forth, leaving Luke and me to stand and stare. For a moment, I wonder if Luke can understand what they’re saying, but from the way his shoulders stiffen and eyes widen, I know he can.
A shiver runs down my spine, and his grandmother notices. She mutters something else in Italian before ushering us to come inside. I glance over at Luke, silently asking if this is okay, and he nudges a chin toward the door.Here goes nothing.
Once we cross the threshold, I’m hit with an aroma that canonly be described as Christmas—sweet and spicy, like cinnamon and clove wrapped in warm vanilla. It’s familiar in a way that makes my chest ache. The calming feeling only lasts for a moment, until the three women go back to conversing in a language I don't understand.
“Olivia, this is my Nonni,” Luke says.
I grin, reaching out to give his grandmother a handshake, her excited eyes taking me in for a second time before she slides her hand into mine.
“And this is my Aunt Andy and her daughter, Dani.”
