18. Ella
18
ella
On the outside, I looked cool, calm, and collected. No one would look at me and think that I was one wrong step away from throwing up. That was the benefit of years of training, I supposed.
I’d been taught to hold in my emotions from birth. Showing horror, fear, or disgust was not allowed. Strong women kept their composure, always and under any circumstance. In my misogynistic, male-dominated clan, my purpose was to look pretty and do what I was told.
And I had. For more than two decades. Until I couldn’t anymore.
These days, the only person who decided what I did, where I went, and how I lived was me. Which had me asking myself why I would willingly agree to do something that had me so tied up in knots.
But I knew the answer—because it was important to Dom.
Yes, I was all about making my own choices these days, but that also meant I could choose to do something for someone I cared about, even if it wasn’t on my personal top ten list of things I wanted to do today.
That was why I’d agreed to stay in Cecilton when my head told me to run.
Why I’d agreed to let Dom’s family help, even though life had taught me the only person I could count on was myself.
And why I’d agreed to Sunday dinner at Mama C’s.
I knew it was a big deal. Dom had told me that his family—all of them—gathered at the restaurant every week. I balked when he first asked me, and he smiled and told me it was okay if I wasn’t ready. Then I saw the disappointment he tried so hard to disguise and found myself capitulating. His resulting joy had been worth a little discomfort on my part.
Dom gave me a sideways glance, half his mouth tilted up in a smile as he placed his hand, palm upward, on the center console in silent invitation. I accepted immediately, craving the contact, and linked my fingers with his.
“It’s going to be okay,” he assured me with a confidence I envied.
Okay, so maybe I wasn’t as composed as I’d thought. Or maybe Dom could read me better than anyone else.
I didn’t know what to expect. The only time my entire family had gathered was for events, like funerals, weddings, engagement parties, and those were more about appearances than wanting to spend time together.
“Can you tell me what to expect so I can prepare myself?”
He laughed. “Stop worrying. I’ve already given you a rundown on everyone. It’s not like you have to pass a test or anything. You’re already part of the family.”
That was one of the things I was having trouble wrapping my head around. Acceptance without expectation was a foreign concept to me.
And whether he admitted it or not, this was a test. My test, and it consisted of only one question: Can I do this, or am I a fool, wishing for something that could never be?
Unaware of my inner turmoil, he gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Besides,” he continued, “you’ve already met a bunch of them. Gina, Lucia, Vinnie, Haven, Sal, Bruno, my mother, my grandfather. You got along fine with them, didn’t you?”
Yes, I had.
He turned into the entrance and parked in the back, like before.
“I will warn you though …” he began.
My stomach bottomed out. I figured this was where he dropped a bomb, like, Ignore Great-Aunt Florence if she gives you the evil eye. She doesn’t like anyone , or, If they ask, best not to mention your family is from Calabria , or something along those lines.
“Yes?”
“They’re probably going to tell embarrassing stories about me.”
I blinked and waited for him to say more.
“I mean, it’s kind of a rite of passage,” he said with a wry smile. “It happened to each of my brothers when they brought their significant others around the first time. My sisters, too, though I think they got off a lot easier. Talk about a double standard.”
I felt my lips twitch.
“Anyway, I just want you to be prepared. You’re going to hear some things. Promise me you’ll keep an open mind.”
“I promise.”
Dom lifted our still-linked hands and kissed my knuckles. He’d been doing that a lot lately, and truthfully, I was becoming addicted to the gesture.
I hesitated, my steps faltering just as we reached the kitchen entrance. It would be so easy to turn around and slip away before we went in. Despite Dom’s assurances, neither one of us knew how this was going to go. I’d be disappointed if things didn’t go as well as he thought they would, but I was more worried about what it would do to him. If he was forced to choose between them and me, I knew?—
“Hey. Look at me.” Dom squeezed my hand and waited until he had my full attention. “ Trust me .”
A simple request, but so hard to fulfill.
I took a discreet, deep breath and nodded. “I do trust you.”
His smile was brilliant. “Then let’s do this.”
We walked through the kitchen like we had before and went into the banquet-sized back room reserved for famiglia . It was still mostly empty, but I did see some familiar faces there.
Gina was there, sitting next to a stunning male with long hair, piercings, and tattoos—he could only be the rock-star husband Dom had told me about. Next to them were a gorgeous brunette, who reminded me of Sophia Loren, and a man who looked like a cleaned-up copy of the bad-boy rock star.
“Ella, you know Gina. That’s Gray, her husband. My sister Sofia and her husband, Grant.”
I tried to remember what Dom had told me. Sofia was the older of his two sisters. She and her husband were both doctors.
“Vinnie and Haven, you know. That’s my brother Nick and his wife, Kat.”
Nick was the former military guy, now a famous author. His wife was an accountant and handled the family businesses. On the shy side too, according to Dom. I felt an immediate kinship with her.
“Paulie and Allison.”
Paul was the oldest, a family services attorney. His wife, Allison, was also a lawyer and his partner in their firm.
Everyone greeted me with warm smiles and welcomes as we took our seats. More than half the seats were unoccupied, and I wondered if this was by design. An opportunity to ease in and get comfortable in small doses rather than be inundated all at once.
As more Cerasino family members joined us in small groups of ones and twos, the more I realized that was exactly what was happening. That Dom and his family would do something like that for my benefit said more than Dom’s words of assurance ever could. It was so much better than the “big reveal” I’d expected.
Also to my pleasant surprise, I was not the center of attention. We talked about the shelter and the charity calendar, which were great icebreakers. I was not pressured to participate, nor was I peppered with personal questions. There was a fair amount of teasing being tossed back and forth between the siblings and their mates, but it was done with obvious love and affection.
By early afternoon, the room was packed with Cerasinos. Laughing. Talking. Eating. And I was right there with them. Sipping wine, sampling delicious food, smiling along as they traded updates, lobbed and answered questions, and got into friendly but occasionally heated debates about everyday things. I was blown away by the amount of love in that room.
It was … transformative. I’d never had that kind of easy banter with my brothers. Or my parents. Or my grandparents.
Dom earned himself mega bonus points by remaining at my side the whole time. He didn’t abandon me and go off with the guys to talk business, like the men in my family had. He stayed right there with me, subtly nudging my shoulder or my thigh on occasion, reminding me that we were there together .
That was when things really began to change for me. That spark of hope I’d hidden away so long ago started burning brighter as I realized that the dreams I’d all but given up on—finding the right man and getting the happily ever after—might be possible after all.