CHAPTER 20 #2
To be loved without reason. To be loved and you’re the reason. Just you, as you are.
Aurelio waits, watching my face. He wants to make sure I get it. He wants to make sure I accept it.
I do, I really do.
But I can’t let him get off that easy. “You love me?”
“Sì.” He nods. His eyes are soft. “I do.”
I tilt my head, considering him. “You love me and I love you?” I trail off, face crinkling in confusion. “No, that doesn’t sound righ—”
Aurelio catches on at the last second, swooping in to kiss me again, effectively shutting me up. When he pulls away, I’m laughing and so is he. I love seeing his dimple pop out. I love seeing him smile. I love his hands on my waist.
He loves me, and I love him. It does feel like a joke, in a way. Or Amy from last year certainly would have thought it was one.
Aurelio’s eyes sparkle at me. “Oh, so you’re a comedian now?”
“I certainly like to think so—” He interrupts me again, kissing me on the cheek, the jaw, the neck. It distracts me so much that I start giggling again.
Aurelio scoops me up, carrying me towards the house. “Enough talking,” he says sternly. It’s not an expression I’m used to seeing on his face.
I start laughing in earnest, feeling lighter than I have in weeks. Months. Years. Aurelio joins in, chest rumbling, eyes crinkling. He kicks open the door to the house, carrying me over the threshold into the dark interior.
“Stop!” I giggle. “We’re going to wake your father.”
Aurelio shoots me a glance, heading up the narrow staircase. “He probably has been listening at the window the whole time.”
“No,” I mock groan. “That would be too humiliating to consider.”
Aurelio heads to the first door on the right, pushing it open. I only catch a brief glimpse of some soccer posters, an open window, and picture of his family on the dresser before I’m tossed onto the bed. I gasp. “My suitcase! We left it outside!”
Aurelio is smiling at me from the foot of the bed. “You can wear my clothes.”
I grumble, but it’s short-lived. Aurelio crawls over me, gently placing kisses on the inside of my wrist, the tip of my shoulder, my jaw, underneath my ear. I wind my arms around his neck. “Then again,” I say coyly, “who needs clothes?”
When I kiss Aurelio again, he’s smiling.
*
I wake up the next morning to sunlight streaming through the window and an Aurelio shaped divot next to me in bed.
I sit up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.
The room is empty, though I notice Aurelio rescued my suitcase and put it next to his dresser.
I stretch my arms above my head, my muscles feeling warm and gooey from Aurelio’s careful ministrations last night and the lack of A/C.
I’m reaching for my phone to check the time when I hear voices.
Not just Aurelio and his father, but an overlapping conversation of several loud voices talking at once.
Did Aurelio invite his whole family over for breakfast?
Or did they show up uninvited? I thought Italians liked to sleep in.
I check my phone and realize it is pretty late, well after 9 a.m. My last-minute flight and adrenaline-induced love confession must have kept me asleep longer than usual.
I frantically pull apart my suitcase, wondering what an appropriate outfit would be for meeting your Italian boyfriend’s family the night after you snuck into their house.
My thoughts race as I sort through the options.
Do they hate Americans (can’t blame them)?
Do they hate my father for what he did to Aurelio’s face (can’t blame them)?
Do they think Aurelio is too good for me (can’t blame them)?
What has he told them about us?
I finally settle on a green tennis dress that matches my eyes.
I notice a bathroom next door to Aurelio’s room and use it to slick back my hair, wash my face, and brush my teeth.
It only takes me about 10 minutes to get ready, since I don’t want to keep them waiting, but I hesitate at the top of the stairs.
I’ve never tried to impress anyone before unless it was on the tennis court.
I figure there’s a first time for everything.
I take one more deep breath, smooth my skirt, and head down the stairs.
The family is settled in the kitchen, gathered around a small wooden table.
I recognize them all from Aurelio’s matches.
His father leans against the kitchen counter, sipping from a stereotypical Italian espresso cup.
Bianca and Nona play cards at the table, bickering and eating breakfast as they go.
There are several different jam jars in front of them, and based on Bianca’s rainbow toast, she’s sampled them all.
Nona’s physical movements are slow, but she speaks rapid Italian to her great-granddaughter, seemingly scolding her for cheating.
Bianca’s father, Aurelio’s brother, Alessandro, lounges on the other end of the table, watching them in amusement.
I spot Aurelio last. He’s making scrambled eggs on the stove. We’re wearing the exact same shade of green.
The bottom stair creaks under my foot. All five heads snap in my direction. Aurelio beams at me, spatula in hand. “Amy,” he says, as though relieved to see that I haven’t climbed out his bedroom window.
I wave weakly. “Hi, everyone.” I take the final step into the kitchen.
“It’s so nice to meet you.” I feel silly speaking English in their home, though I know all of them, besides Nona, speak it very well.
Aurelio’s mother’s family was from England, so her husband learned English when they first got together.
Now I’ve got to pull my own Love Actually or Nona will never understand a thing I say.
“Amy.” Aurelio’s father steps forward. He kisses my cheek. “We are very happy to have you here.” The words seem genuine, just like his expression. Aurelio smiles at the sight of us together, finally.
“Thank you.” I shift my weight from foot to foot, unsure what to do.
Aurelio finishes the eggs, adding a few pieces of fruit to the plate. “For you.” He offers it to me. “I hope it is okay.”
I take the plate from him, glancing around the room. “No one else wanted any?”
Aurelio’s father and brother chuckle. Aurelio hides a smile at my confusion. “We don’t usually have eggs for breakfast,” he explains to me. “Too heavy for the morning.”
“Oh.” I notice just how little there is set out for the family. A few pastries, bread and jam, fruit, and of course, espresso. “I’m sorry you went out of your way—”
Aurelio looks at me sternly. “Amy, stop. I wanted to make you breakfast.” It isn’t exactly a declaration of love, but my blush clues the room in.
Bianca saves me. “Amy!” She shoves her cards out of the way. “You can sit next to me.”
“Grazie mille, Bianca.” I look at her gratefully and sit down. I lean closer and whisper, “How was my pronunciation? Terrible?”
It’s a stage whisper, but Bianca plays along as though we’re in a private conversation. “Very good.” She nods at me approvingly.
I take a bite of my eggs. “You’ll have to help me, Bianca.
I want to learn Italian, but I don’t have a teacher.
” Bianca’s lovely brown eyes widen at the suggestion.
I fight a smile as I take a sip from the glass of water Aurelio brings over.
He watches me and his niece with affection, putting a warm hand on Nona’s shoulder as he smiles at us.
I hide my blush again by turning back to Bianca.
“So, what do you think? Will you be my teacher?”
“Yes,” she says seriously, folding her hands together on the table. “But I want something, too.”
I raise a brow at Aurelio’s brother. “What a little negotiator you’ve raised.”
Alessandro calmly takes a sip of his espresso, watching his daughter. “Get her, bambino.”
I turn back to the very serious Bianca. “What can I do for you, Miss Bianca?”
At the formal address, Bianca’s spine straightens. I remember her in Aurelio’s arms post-match, giving interviews to the press. It doesn’t surprise me at all to see her one step ahead. “I want you to teach me how to play tennis,” she proclaims.
Now both of my eyebrows go up. “Tennis?” I look over at Aurelio. “What about your uncle?”
Aurelio shakes his head as Bianca explains. “He’s a boy.” She spreads her hands as if it’s obvious. “I want to play like you.”
I fight down a laugh. “Good point,” I tell her. “I hadn’t thought of that. Much better if I help you.” I reach a hand out. “Shall we shake on it? Tennis lessons for Italian lessons?”
Bianca’s little hand, still sticky from the jam, shakes mine. “Deal.”
After our negotiation, Bianca quickly loses interest in me, instead turning back to the card game. At least I have the approval of one member of Aurelio’s family. He grins at me from across the table. “I thought we’d go to the beach today. Take a day off.”
I pop a grape into my mouth. “A day off?” I chew contemplatively. “No, never heard of it.”
He rolls his eyes. “If we hurry, we can get there before it gets too busy.”
I nod, but really, I’m looking around the kitchen at the rest of his family.
I want to ask so many questions. I want to know about Aurelio as a kid.
I want to know how he looked that first time he picked up the tennis racket.
I want to hear from his father how he fell for Aurelio’s mother when she was studying abroad here. I want to hear it all.
But the longer I look, noting the easy way they are together, the less impatient I feel. I’ll have a chance to ask them tonight. Or the next time I visit. Or the next time they visit us. Isn’t that the best thing about family? They’re always there to share life with you.
There’s just one thing I have to say now. I put down my fork and look at Aurelio. “Will you translate for me?”
I reach across the table, gently touching Nona’s hand so she looks my way. Her shrewd eyes watch me from across the table. “Nona, I’m so happy you’re feeling better. For Aurelio, for this family, but also because there’s something I’ve always wanted to say to you.”