Can we meet later and talk?
I will have to message him back later—right now, I must speak with mia madre.
The closer we get to the kitchen, the more the scents of her cooking intensify, bringing my mind to a place of nostalgia.
She pins me with a stare the moment we’re alone, and immediately begins to move effortlessly around her kitchen, gathering things to make brunch. Mamma has always had a talent for not taking her eyes off you when she’s upset—something she continues to prove to me as an adult.
Taking a seat on a barstool, I rest my elbows on the countertop. “It is good to see you and be back home. Whatever you’re preparing smells delicious.”
“Don’t try to sweet talk me, figlio,” she scolds, waving a wooden spoon in my direction. “This is not a matter I will let you off the hook easily for. Now, tell me why you left your home.”
Her words cause me to wince—a reaction I cannot stop in time.
Her eyes soften slightly with my reaction. “Mio dolce ragazzo, per favore confida con tua madre. Cosa ti stà succedendo?”My sweet boy, please confide in your mother. What is going on with you?
Shaking my head, I switch to Italian as well. “Questo non è né il momento né il luogo, Mamma.”This is not the time nor the place, Mamma.
My eyes bounce to the open walkway, then back to her.
“Per favore. Parliamone più tardi.”Please. Let us discuss this later.
“Va bene, ma è meglio che tu vada a parlare con il tuo papà. Non sono così sicuro che sarà così indulgente.”Fine, but you better go speak with your Papà. I'm not so sure he'll be as forgiving.
Setting the wooden spoon on the counter, she begins measuring out ingredients into her large mixing bowl. I watch as she mixes together avocado oil, milk, eggs, and sugar. Once she has a handle on what she’s doing, she looks up at me again.
“Andare.”Go,Mamma pushes in the voice she only uses when she leaves no room for argument.
Relenting, I stand from the stool and round the corner, pressing a soft kiss to the side of my mamma’s hair as my hand comes to hold the other side of her head.
She sighs softly, and I can tell how frustrated she is with me.
“Ti amo, Mamma,” I say before releasing her.
As I walk from the room to go search for Papà, I hear her tell me she loves me too, and I know that while she means it wholeheartedly, I still have a lot of missed time to make up for.
I just hope the other people in my life aren’t as upset with me as she is.
Chapter 10
Sly
“We need to talk,” Enzo tells me as he rounds the leather couch in my family’s study, swirling a lowball of whiskey as he walks.
Already seated, my legs are spread wide in front of me as I perch my elbow on the armrest, my own whiskey in hand. I’ve been waiting for him, knowing this moment was coming.
We’d made it through a lovely day spent with my family, catching up. They listened to stories of the Sinners and filled me in on everything that’s been happening here in New York.
Dinner was delicious. Mamma made my favorite dish—spaghetti and meatballs with her homemade sauce. But as she and Federico cleaned the kitchen, and Guilio and my father retreated to his office to discuss my brother’s newest hedge fund, I made my way to the study, knowing it was only a matter of time before Enzo followed.
“I’m surprised you waited this long to seek me out.”
“Because we’ve had so much time to speak alone? You’re lucky I stayed.”
“And you’re lucky I am sitting here, willing to hear what you have to say after you all but drove me out of town,” I hiss.
Looking at the empty fireplace, I force myself to take a sip of my whiskey, letting the alcohol sit on my tongue while I bite back the rest of the words I want to say to him.
He’s silent for several minutes, taking a seat next to me on the couch, but he doesn’t sit back. Instead, he props his elbows on his knees and stares straight ahead like I am.
