7. Isabella
7
ISABELLA
T he drive to Trattoria Amalfi is only fifteen minutes off campus, which is great because the silence between my mom and me is almost too deafening to handle. I’m sure her mind is running rampant with questions, which is probably why she’s decided to keep quiet during our car ride. She’s making sure she keeps her word and doesn’t let her longtime guard, Tony, find out about Nicco and me.
Tony pulls up to the front door to let my mom and me out. “I’ll circle around to the back and park in the parking lot. Just text me when you’re ready to leave, and I’ll come back around to pick you both up,” he says, closing the door behind us.
I knew he wouldn’t be too far away. He has to have eyes on the establishment at all times in case something happens.
Growing up the daughter of a don means I’m used to having a guard around. Fortunately for my family, it’s just my dad being proactive, or as I like to say, overprotective. There aren’t any active threats against our family and never have been for as long as I’ve been alive. Despite that, my dad likes to take extreme measures to make sure our safety is always considered.
My mom and I enter the dimly lit restaurant that’s radiating life, with patrons filling every available table. The space is intimate, but the tables are spread apart so you don’t feel like you’re on top of each other.
Nicco and I haven’t had a chance to come back to this restaurant since the night he said I love you, and I’m beginning to wonder why. The food is delicious and the ambiance is absolute perfection with the stylish and elegant furnishings paired with the low lighting. It gives off a very romantic feel.
We make our way up to the hostess who greets us with a large smile and a twinkle in her eye. “Are you part of the Silvestri party?”
I nod to her with furrowed brows.
She must sense my confusion because before leading us to our table, she says, “The other third of your party is already here and let me know who to look out for. Two lovely young ladies who are nearly the spitting image of each other.”
That causes another eye roll from me. I shake my head and release a small chuckle under my breath, but when I glance over to my mom, she doesn’t have a reaction. Just that same smile on her face she wore earlier, holding that perfect composure of hers.
“If you’d both like to follow me, I can lead you to Mr. Silvestri. He reserved one of our private tables in the back,” the hostess says before leading the way.
The hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach comes back as I count down the steps to having to explain why I haven’t told my family about Nicco’s and my relationship.
My heart feels like it will jump out of my chest, and as we round the corner, I locate Nicco sitting at a secluded table against the far wall. He spots me just as quickly and pushes himself out of the half booth. I pick up my pace and race toward him, needing to feel the warmth of his embrace.
Acting on instinct, I wrap my arms around Nicco’s neck while his arms find their home around my waist. He squeezes me against him, and I relax and take in the alluring scent of his cologne. A smell I’ll never get sick of.
“Are we really doing this?” I whisper in his ear.
“I couldn’t let you lie to your mom. Not because of me, my sweet Isabella.”
He holds me against him, finding his space in the nook of my neck, and breathes in deeply.
While I pull away from him, my mom clears her throat from behind me, causing me to whip around. “Sorry, Mom, um, why don’t you take a seat,” I say, gesturing to the other side of the booth.
I slide in while my mom takes her spot on the opposite side. Nicco slides in next to me and takes a deep breath before saying, “Mrs. DiMaggio, Cece, if you’ll still allow it, I’ve been dating your daughter for the past year.”
My mouth dries up as the words we’ve spent so long keeping to ourselves are so effortlessly thrown out there. He just jumped right into it.
My mom looks between the two of us before giving a small nod. “I can see that, Niccolò, but what I would really like to know is why you’ve both kept it a secret for this long.”