Mamma has been making her rounds at my restaurants. Inspecting, critiquing, writing up suggestions—doing what she does best, and taking Tillie along with her. She’s been seeing more of my girl than I have.
It almost doesn’t feel real, this visual.
Tillie has no idea how huge a deal it is for Mamma to approve of her upon first meet. Acceptance into the Rossetti Family has never been that easy. They’re a snobby, exclusionary bunch. It’s the reason I’d been holding off on telling Mamma about her. Preparing for it to be a whole thing, to fight for her.
But this just further proves I choseright.
Tillie Garza is the one. The right one. The only one.
Mia regina.
She’s all mine now and it’s no secret. I can walk through this door, cup her face and kiss her in front ofDioand everyone because she’smine.
It seems almost too good to be true.
After watching them a few more minutes, contentment in my chest, I push the door open and walk in.
Both women look up, share a look like they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t, then laugh at a joke I’m not in on.
“Hey, babe!” Her eyes gleam with pure joy. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Maybe you would have if you bothered to answer my calls.” I’m trying not to sound miffed. “I went to your house because your car’s there, butyouweren’t. Figured you would be wherever Mamma is, since it seems she’s on a mission to make you fall in love with her instead.”
“Oh, stop whining.” Mamma waves me off. “I will be gone in a few days.”
I clasp my hands under my chin. “Carissima mamma, is it okay to borrowmygirlfriend for the rest of the evening?”
Mamma rolls her eyes and gives Tillie air kisses. “Go with him,amore mia, before he takes off his diaper and throws a tantrum.”
Tillie bursts into a laugh, then promptly folds her lips when I arch an eyebrow at her. She doesn’t need to stifle it, though. She can laugh at my expense all she wants. Her laughter is like a balm for my wretched soul. I’d wear a diaper and suckle a pacifier if it kept her eyes bright and sparkling like that.
She slides off the stool, skips over to me with a grin, and throws her arms around my neck. “Babe, if you miss me, just say that.”
She smells like love and happiness. “I miss you.”
Beaming, she tips up and lands me a chaste kiss. “I miss you, too.”
I resist the urge to bury my face in her mass of coconut-scented curls, hug her tight to me, and never let go.
Over her head, Mamma has her hands clasped under her chin, grinning from ear to ear.Goodness gracious. I’m not used to her like this. It’s unsettling.
I take my girl’s hand and lead her out of the restaurant.
When we’re out on the curb, she stops at the passenger side of my car and pulls at the door handle, then throws me a look when it doesn’t open. “Lost your key or something?”
“Let’s walk for a bit,” I suggest.
“Walk? To where?”
“To…” I glance around. “That ice cream shop a few blocks down.”
She frowns. “You wanna go to an ice cream shop?”
“Yes.”
“You?” Now she’s skeptical. “Who are you and what have you done with my stuck-up, lurk-in-the-dark, hate-light-and-color-and-all-things-living Saint?”
“Saint is resting. I’m just borrowing his skin for a bit.”
