Chapter 16 #3
“Of course,” Luca said dryly. “Thank you. Is Nicoletta in the back?”
“They’re all in the lounge,” she said.
Still hand in hand, Luca took Oliver through the dining room, winding between tables, heading toward the bar, which must be in the back.
When they entered the small lounge area, an enormous wood bar running all the way along the back of the room, a group of dark-haired men and women turned to look at them.
“It’s Luca,” an older woman, with Luca’s eyes and his nose cried out, and approached, and before Oliver could offer a hand or introduce himself or anything, he found himself being pulled into a tight, warm embrace that smelled like the best version of all the scents that had seduced him from the moment he’d set foot in the restaurant.
Lemons and thyme and rosemary, and that earthy scent of garlic under it all.
“Mama, you’re crushing him,” Luca warned, but Oliver didn’t mind because every single one of his worries was currently being demolished by this greeting.
“Oh, Luca,” the woman said, finally pulling back and looking at him with a very satisfied expression, “he’s so cute.”
“Mrs. Moretti,” Oliver said, trying to re-gain his footing and his voice. “It’s so nice to meet you.” He’d considered adding finally, but was that really true? They’d only known each other for three weeks. There wasn’t much finally about anything.
“Oliver, yes?” she said. “Everyone, come meet Oliver.”
He’d never been laboring under any false belief that Luca wasn’t deeply, incredibly attractive. But seeing him alongside the rest of his family?
It was a lot.
Everyone was beautiful, in a careless, sort of thoughtless way, like they didn’t even realize their bone structure and their hair and the impact of their smiles were something special. They just were.
Then a man, with shoulders almost as wide as Luca’s and with a charming smile that no doubt had left a slew of happy sighs in its wake, broke off from the group and Luca’s eyes widened.
And trailing behind him was another man, slightly younger, who looked like his face had been formed by Michelangelo himself.
“Gabriel, I can’t believe you’re here,” Luca exclaimed, wrapping him up in a big hug. Oliver could hear the joy in Luca’s voice. “And you even brought Lorenzo.”
There was a time Oliver had believed the man was cold; it was impossible to even imagine now. Around his family, his walls came down and he radiated warmth.
“Thought I’d take a break and head up with Ren, make sure the restaurant was still standing without you here, supervising every brick and every table,” Gabriel said, making Luca roll his eyes, but fondly.
The incredibly attractive one—and really, that was saying something, considering the rest of the Morettis—turned to Oliver.
“Ren,” he said, holding his hand out. “Short for Lorenzo, but nobody but Luca gets away with calling me that. I run the food truck with Gabe. I’m their cousin.”
“The black sheep cousin,” a beautiful woman in her mid-thirties, dark hair curling to her shoulders and a very sweet smile added with a smirk. “I’m Marcella.” She hugged him then, and Oliver needed a second to place her. Oh, she was Marco’s twin. The third oldest.
“My reputation precedes me,” Ren said with a grin, and holy hell, Oliver was crazy in love with Luca, but Ren was something else.
“Your reputation is a cesspit,” Marcella teased. “But not anymore, I hear? Did you really settle down?”
“You know I did,” Ren said. “Finally found a guy able to tame me.” He winked at Oliver, who didn’t know what to say. What to do. Jesus. He was almost a little glad he’d gotten to meet Luca’s family after he’d already decided he was in this for the long haul.
“Oliver,” Marcella said, taking his arm, “come and meet my father.”
Oh God, that would be Luca’s father too.
But he met the older man’s gaze with a friendly smile—hoping, at least, that it would hide how nervous he was. “Papa,” Marcella said, “this is Oliver. Luca’s man.”
Oliver extended a hand but found himself being pulled into a tight embrace instead. “It is so good to meet you, Oliver,” the man said when he finally let Oliver go. “I’m Matteo, and I’m so happy to welcome you to our family.”
“Ah well . . .” Oliver didn’t know how to say, is it that serious, we’ve only been dating three-ish weeks? But then he glanced over at Luca, surrounded by his mother and Gabe and Ren, and their eyes met, love brimming in Luca’s gaze, and Oliver couldn’t help but think, yes, I think it might be.
An hour later, Oliver had been given a glass of exceptional red wine—“from Italy,” Matteo had told him, “from one of the vineyards we invest in there”—and then fed, a huge platter of chicken parmigiana placed in front of him. He and Luca had shared it.
“The sauce,” Luca had told his mother with concern creasing his forehead, “it’s a bit salty tonight.”
Oliver hadn’t agreed; it had been some of the best Italian food he’d ever eaten.
Of course when Marcella had sat down opposite him and shot a very frank look in his direction, asking if it was the best, he’d said so.
And if he counted the atmosphere and the camaraderie of the family, always teasing and laughing with one another, in this beautifully appointed room, full of love and care, he hadn’t lied.
Then a while later, Marcella’s brother Marco had arrived.
He was the most serious looking of the bunch. He and Luca had shaken hands, Luca pulling him to the side for a murmured conversation, before he’d turned to Oliver and introduced himself.
Oliver had been expecting things to feel very different from what he was used to, but to his surprise, there was a feeling here, in this room, that echoed Indigo Bay.
He’d worried he’d be taking Luca out of his comfort zone, out of what felt familiar, but Oliver was beginning to realize maybe they were more similar than he’d ever dreamt.
Maybe Oliver’s actual family was small, and Luca’s was big, but he had an extended circle of people who watched over him and teased him, too, and made sure he had everything he needed to succeed—and vice versa.
Luca had recognized it the night of their first date, but now Oliver saw it too. What he had back in Indigo Bay was not that dissimilar from what the Morettis had built here in Napa.
“So, what do you think?” Luca asked softly as the evening finally began to wind down and he couldn’t stop himself from yawning. It had been a long day, and he hadn’t gotten much sleep on the plane, no matter how comfortable the first-class seat had been.
“I think . . .I think you’re a very lucky man.”
“That I am,” Luca said, the soft, loving glow in his eyes as he stared at Oliver making it clear he included him as part of the luck.
“Your family is amazing. A lot, but also amazing.”
Luca nodded. “And they’ll always be here. I don’t need to be here all the time to have this.” He sighed. “I thought I did. I thought I had to shepherd it, to protect it, to care for it all the time or it would fade, but maybe not.”
“Maybe not,” Oliver echoed, agreeing with him.
“Luca!” his mother exclaimed as she looked over at them. “Look at Oliver—he is dead on his feet! Take him home. He needs rest.”
Luca’s eyebrow quirked up, like he was saying, don’t you see? And Oliver saw.
He hugged everyone again, even serious Marco, and then they were back in the car. Complete with doggy bag full of food.
“Does your mother think you’re . . .I don’t know . . .going to starve between now and tomorrow morning?” Oliver asked as Luca pulled back onto the main drive.
Luca laughed. “Maybe. She did tell me I looked too skinny. Asked me what Giana had been feeding me.”
“You’d better not have told her I was the one feeding you,” Oliver said.
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t hang you out to dry like that.”
The drive to Luca’s townhouse was not far, and it only felt like a few minutes before they were pulling up to the modern-looking unit, last in the row.
Oliver took in the painfully neat and organized garage as Luca drove the car in.
“Welcome home,” he said wryly. “How about we save the big tour for tomorrow? I’m exhausted, and you look just how I feel.”
“Works for me,” Oliver said, barely able to hold back another yawn.
“I’m just—” Luca took a deep breath and reached over, taking his hand in his. “Incredibly happy you’re here. I didn’t think it was going to end up like this; it was too much to even hope for.”
“You saying I’m a dream come true, Moretti?” Oliver teased.
But Luca’s expression stayed serious. “Yes,” he said.