Thirty-four #2
Ellory turns in my arms, her hands smoothing over my chest. Her eyes are steady, calm. “Matteo, I’ll be fine. I want to meet them. All of them. Even if it’s chaos.”
I search her face, looking for hesitation, but there’s none. Just quiet resolve.
“You don’t know what you’re signing up for,” I warn gently, though the corner of my mouth tugs up.
She rises on her toes and kisses me, soft and certain. “Yes, I do. I’m signing up for you.”
Her words hit me like a fist to the chest. I pull her closer, holding her there for a beat longer than I should, because if I let go too soon, I might fall apart.
“Then I guess we’re really doing this,” I murmur against her lips.
“We are,” she whispers back.
The thought of bringing someone home doesn’t scare me. That says a lot.
The drive over is short, but my stomach knots tighter with every mile. Ellory sits beside me in the passenger seat, her hand resting over mine on the console. Amelia babbles in the back, clutching her new doll, blissfully unaware of the storm we’re about to walk into.
The house comes into view, big and sun-warmed, its walls heavy with memory. I ease the car into the driveway and take a long breath. “Ready?”
Ellory smiles, squeezing my hand. “Ready.”
We barely make it through the front door before the chaos hits. Voices overlap, laughter booms, someone’s arguing in the kitchen, and I catch the smell of sauce and garlic drifting through the air.
“Matteo!” My aunt Rebecca sweeps in first, arms already outstretched. She’s small but fierce, her lipstick bright, her perfume unmistakable. Before I can blink, she’s unbuckling Amelia from my arms and looks at Ellory. “I’ve missed you so much!”
Amelia squeals as Rebecca lifts her high, her little doll dangling from one hand. “You’ve gotten bigger since you were here last week. What is your daddy feeding you? Growth hormones. He needs to stop right now.”
Amelia giggles.
Gianna barrels in next—my sister, loud and fast, her curls bouncing.
“Oh my God, look at her! Give her here!” She plucks Amelia right from Rebecca’s arms with practiced ease, cooing in Italian, as if she’s been waiting her whole life for this moment.
Amelia blinks up at her, then giggles, reaching for her necklace.
Ellory laughs softly beside me. “She’s already stolen the show.”
“Get used to it,” I mutter, though I can’t keep the smile off my face. “It’s like this all the time.”
Behind them, my uncle calls from the kitchen, “Matteo! Bring your girl in here. We’ve got wine and enough food to feed an army!”
More voices erupt—my brothers, already bickering, teasing, shouting for me to hurry up.
Ellory slips her arm through mine, her eyes shining as she takes it all in. “This is wonderful,” she says, and I can tell she means it.
I study her for a beat, my chest tightening. She’s not overwhelmed. She belongs here already.
As Gianna and Rebecca disappear into the living room with Amelia, my daughter’s giggles carrying through the noise, I lean down and whisper into Ellory’s ear. “Welcome to the madness.”
She tilts her head up, her lips brushing mine in a quick, secret kiss. “I love it already.”
The moment I step into the kitchen with Ellory on my arm, the noise triples.
“Finalmente!” Dante is the first to spot us, his arms crossed, a glass of wine already in hand. “Look who decided to show up. And he’s brought la bellissima Ellory.”
Ellory blushes, but she doesn’t shy away when Dante leans in to kiss both cheeks like the dramatic bastard he is.
“Careful, Dante,” I warn. “She’s with me.”
“Oh, relax,” he drawls. “If she were mine, I’d have already married her.”
Ellory laughs, and I shoot him a glare that only makes him grin wider.
Luca pipes up next from the stove, where he’s pretending to help stir sauce but mostly just stealing meatballs. “Don’t listen to Dante. He’s just bitter no one wants to marry him.”
“Bitter?” Dante smirks. “Please. Women line up for me.”
“Outside of your imagination?” Ciro tosses in from the corner, reaching for bread.
The room erupts with laughter, and Ellory’s hand tightens on my arm like she’s fighting not to double over.
“Enough,” I snap, though I can’t keep the grin off my face. “You animals are going to scare her off.”
Dante winks at Ellory. “If she hasn’t run yet, nothing will scare her off.”
“Except maybe your cooking,” Luca mutters.
“I heard that!”
Ellory leans closer to me, whispering through her smile, “You weren’t kidding about what this is like.”
I groan. “This is nothing. Wait until after dinner when they watch a game this afternoon.”
Dante claps me on the back, nearly sloshing my wine. “No games. Tonight we’re breaking out the good grappa. Let’s see if your girl can keep up.”
Ellory lifts her chin, meeting his challenge without hesitation. “I’m admitting defeat already.”
The whole room goes quiet for a beat before erupting into whistles and laughter.
“Matteo,” Ciro says, grinning ear to ear. “You’re in trouble. She already fits right in.”
I glance at Ellory, who’s still smiling at me with that mix of mischief and grace, and I realize they’re right. She does.
Rebecca looks at the clock. “It’s time to eat.”
We wander into the dining room. She points us to the corner with the highchair for Amelia and we sit down and say grace before we start arguing again.
Dinner at the Marinos never starts quietly. The moment the platters hit the table, everyone talks at once, reaching, passing, stealing bites before anything’s officially served.
Ellory sits beside me, her wide eyes darting between voices flying in rapid Italian and English. I nudge her knee under the table. “Just grab food fast, or you’ll starve.”
She laughs, and before I can, Aunt Rebecca shoves a plate piled high with pasta in front of her. “Eat, bella. You’re too thin.”
Ellory thanks her graciously, and I watch my aunt’s face soften. Another Marino won over.
At the far end, Uncle Henry raises his glass. “To family,” he says, booming over the chatter. “And to Matteo, who finally brought someone worth meeting.”
The table erupts with laughter, whistles, and a chorus of “Salute!” Glasses clink, wine splashes, and Ellory lifts her glass too, cheeks pink but eyes sparkling.
Amelia is passed down the table like a prized trophy, bouncing from Gianna’s lap to Rebecca’s to my brothers’. She’s giggling, sticky with sauce, waving her little doll around like it’s her scepter.
“Look at her,” Dante crows, wiping tomato off his shirt where Amelia’s little hand landed. “Already ruling the table.”
“She gets it from her father,” Luca says, smirking.
“No,” Ciro argues, twirling his fork. “She’s learning it from Ellory. Look at her—calm in the storm. She’s the real boss here.”
Ellory nearly chokes on her wine, laughing.
I rest my hand on her thigh under the table, grounding her, grounding myself. “You okay?” I murmur.
She turns, her smile softening just for me. “More than okay.”
The noise swells again—stories flying, jokes overlapping, Dante trying to start a debate about football while Henry insists on telling the same story he’s told a hundred times.
And in the middle of it, with Ellory at my side and Amelia laughing at the head of the table, I realize something I never thought I’d feel in this house again. Peace.
By the time dessert comes—three different kinds, because no Marino ever agrees on just one—the volume has climbed to deafening. Amelia has chocolate on her cheeks and pasta sauce in her hair, but she’s glowing, laughing on Gianna’s lap like she’s the center of the universe.
Ellory leans close to my ear. “Fresh air?”
I don’t hesitate. I take her hand and slip us out the back door, the cool night a stark contrast to the heat and noise inside. The garden is lit with a few string lights, the faint hum of laughter spilling out through the open windows.
For a moment, we just breathe.
Ellory tilts her face up to the stars, her fingers still twined with mine. “That,” she says softly, “was incredible.”
I grin. “Incredible or insane?”
She laughs, then shakes her head. “Both. But mostly incredible.” Her voice dips, quieter now.
“I’ve never had that. Growing up, it was just me and my father.
Dinner was quiet. Polite. Reserved. Sometimes painfully so.
” She exhales, her gaze far away. “I always wondered what it would feel like to sit at a table like that—messy and loud, everyone talking over each other, food being stolen off plates. It felt…alive.”
My chest aches at her honesty. I brush a lock of hair from her cheek. “That’s us.”
Her eyes meet mine, bright even in the dim light. “It’s like something I’ve been missing all my life.” She squeezes my hand, her voice catching. “And like something I don’t want to miss anymore.”
I pull her closer, sliding my arm around her waist. “Then you won’t. Not ever again. You belong at that table, Ellory. With me. With us.”
Her lips curve into a smile that’s equal parts joy and relief. She rises onto her toes, kissing me softly, and when she pulls back, her forehead rests against mine.
“Thank you for sharing it with me,” she whispers.
“Thank you for walking into the madness,” I murmur back. “And loving it anyway.”
From inside, Amelia’s laughter rings out, high and unrestrained, and Ellory’s smile deepens.
And I know in that moment—she’s not just mine. She’s already part of the family.