24. Nonna’s Bolognese
NONNA’S BOLOGNESE
*Bacon is not the same thing as pancetta.
“ W ell.” Frankie’s voice remained carefully neutral as she observed the tension between Lucas and me.
“This is cozy.” With a sharp glance that had always marked her as the most observant Zola sibling, she pulled out her keys, unlocked the front door, and handed them back to me.
“Come up when you’re ready. Lucas, you are welcome to stay for dinner. That is, if my sister invites you.”
Ever polite, Lucas nodded in her direction, though he didn’t take his stormy gaze off me. “I appreciate that, thank you.”
“Marie.”
I glanced at my sister.
She didn’t say a word, but her thoughts were clear. Be careful .
Then she left.
Strain had brought out a few more of the lines around Lucas’s tornado-colored eyes, and his jaw was set like he was preparing for a fight. He looked good, if a bit tired.
But Lucas always looked good—better, somehow, every day I spent with him.
He’d always been a handsome man, though a distant one.
But now that I knew exactly what those broad hands felt like, both when caressing softly between my legs or carving handfuls of my thigh with abject need…
Yeah, it was hard to see how I’d ever missed the animal magnetism that poured off him like steam.
I was mad about this morning, yes. But I was also more attracted to him than ever.
It was baffling.
I waited for him to say something, but his patience outlasted mine.
“You’re here,” I observed inanely, if only to disrupt the awkwardness.
“You left.”
“Did you expect me to just sit in the hotel room all day?”
He frowned. “I expected at least one response to the seven text messages I sent you. Or at bare minimum, a note. I gave you the same courtesy.”
“Oh, right. I forgot about the note .” I threw my hands in the air, scaring a few nearby pigeons.
“Marie—”
“I sent Robbie a text that I was taking the day,” I cut in. “It was all perfectly professional , especially since you gave me the day off and there was no reason for me to be there without a kitchen or food to work with.”
“That’s not the fucking point, Marie!” Lucas finally exploded, causing a couple exiting a townhouse across the street to stop and stare.
I waved weakly and gave a nod. “Good afternoon.”
Lucas didn’t even acknowledge their presence. “You were out there, in a strange city, not knowing hardly anyone or anywhere to go, and anything could have happened to you, and I had no idea where you were or when you were coming back, and?—”
He stopped, shoving his hands back into his pockets while he paced angrily in front of a row of boxwoods, looking like a trapped panther, although we were outside.
“So, that’s what this is about?” I asked. “That I wasn’t at your beck and call? I hate to break it to you, Lucas, but I’m not some servant? — ”
“Actually, that’s exactly what you are.”
I reared as if I’d been slapped. “How dare you!”
He had the grace to look ashamed. He even pushed his hands over his face and groaned before shoving them through his hair, making it stand up on one side.
My chin trembled. I’d been called plenty of things in my life. I’d been teased throughout grade school, belittled by my family. I would not cry because Lucas Lyons had decided to point out that I worked for him, not eight hours after he’d just touched me like I meant something else entirely.
When he looked back at me, it was as if he’d shoved a knife through his own heart instead of mine. “I never should have said that.”
“No,” I battled through grinding teeth and impending tears, “you shouldn’t have.”
“And I didn’t fucking mean it. You work for me, yes, but I have never thought of you like a servant, Marie, I swear it. I’m just—” He dragged his hands through his hair again with a hard yank and a grunt. “ Fuck .”
Somewhere nearby, a church bell tolled the quarter hour, too delicate for how wrecked I felt inside.
“I made it thirty minutes into my first meeting before I came back to apologize. I handled the morning like an ass.”
“Yes.” I was still unable to keep my voice from wobbling. “You did.”
“But you were gone.” He shook his head like he still couldn’t quite believe it. “Robbie had your text, but all I could think of was how scared you were of the market in S?o Paulo. How you didn’t leave the penthouse without Robbie for a week.”
“I went out in Japan,” I protested, albeit weakly.
“With a driver and Robbie with you, half the time, and to villages with less than a thousand people. You’re making progress, baby, you are. But, goddammit, I still left you in a hotel room in a foreign city after…” He gestured helplessly between us. “After everything.”
When our eyes met, it was as if a chain between us was yanked taut. Lucas closed the distance in seconds and pulled me into his arms.
I didn’t even try to fight it. The hug was as fierce and desperate as I felt. It conveyed all the words he couldn’t say. The words I hadn’t even acknowledged in myself.
“I needed to know you were safe.” His voice dropped to a low hum as he held me, one arm around my shoulder, the other hand cradling my head to his chest. “I was so fucking mad, Marie. But really, I was just scared. Please forgive me.”
“You left,” I whispered against his lapel.
“I know.” His arms tightened around my shoulders. “I panicked, and I left, and I’ve been going out of my mind all day wondering where you were. Thinking about how you looked in that bed. Wishing I could go back and stay there with you. I’m so sorry, baby.”
“Oh my God, don’t call me that,” I mumbled, though I couldn’t find the strength to pull away. “I’m not your baby, Lucas. I’m not your anything.”
Nausea gripped my gut, the taste of the lie acrid on my tongue.
“Aren’t you?”
We stood there, holding each other on the sidewalk while London moved around us. I could feel the steady beat of his heart, inhale his familiar scent, and for the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe properly.
“I won’t leave you again,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you want.”
What did that even mean?
That he wouldn’t leave me after we did…whatever else we might do? That he wouldn’t leave me to do his job?
Was he talking as my employer? As someone who cared about my well-being? As my lover?
Could I even call him that at this point?
Now my head was truly swimming.
It meant nothing , that nasty little voice in my head remembered. He told you himself .
I sighed and mentally pushed her away, then untangled myself from Lucas’s embrace and stepped back.
“Have you eaten?” I asked.
He blinked, clearly not expecting the change of subject. “What?”
“Dinner. Have you had dinner?” I managed a small smile. “Because Xavier is literally a world-celebrated chef, so it’s guaranteed to be good. If you’re interested.”
Panic and softness decorated his chiseled features. “You want me to have dinner with you and your family?”
I shrugged. “You can do what you want. But I’m going up, and you’re welcome to come. Or not. It’s up to you.”
“What do you want, Marie?” His dark eyes were searching. Knowing.
I couldn’t quite meet them.
“Right now, I want dinner. After we eat…we can talk some more.”
The flat was full of familial chaos when the elevator doors opened to let us in.
Sofia was sprawled on the rug with what looked like an entire art supply store spread around her while baby Lucy was back in her highchair, happily smearing mashed banana across every available surface.
Clara, the nanny, was folding a giant pile of laundry.
Meanwhile, Xavier and Frankie were bickering in the kitchen over what to feed everyone for dinner.
“Xavi, be reasonable. The girls are not going to eat squid.”
“It’s squid ink pasta , Ces.” Xavier set bundles of long black noodles onto the cutting board. “With only a little bit of actual squid. And I’ll fry it like a garnish. Ah, Marie. Good, another civilized palate has arrived. Tell me you’re on my side here.”
I shrugged. “It’s just a color, Frankie. It adds a slight umami flavor that’s really tasty too.”
“I’ve had it,” Lucas added. “I liked it, although I’m allergic.”
I glanced at him. “Is squid a shellfish?”
He shrugged. “It makes my mouth itch.”
Frankie turned on him. “Don’t tell me you also eat like tasting menus are a personality trait.”
Lucas, looking slightly overwhelmed, just shrugged again. “I eat whatever your sister makes for me. If she says it’s good, I believe her.”
“That just means you like her.” Frankie spun back to her husband. “It’s basically the same thing as ‘happy wife, happy life,’ Xavi. Haven’t you ever heard that saying?”
“Oh, I think I know how to make you happy, babe,” Xavier teased before wrapping a big tattooed arm around Frankie and delivering a kiss that wasn’t really appropriate for a room full of people.
Even so, their affection was just as familiar as the rest of the noise. After all, the Zola kids had been raised by two people deeply devoted to each other: our grandparents. It made sense that when we fell too, we loved hard and out loud.
By the time he was finished, Frankie had been significantly subdued. She threw up her hands. “I give up. Cook what you want. But don’t blame me when Sofia refuses to eat the black worms.”
“That’s my girl.” Xavier laughed just before smacking her butt, causing her to screech and skitter around the counter to sit with Lucy, who was also laughing just like her dad.
“Zia Marie!” Sofia scrambled to her feet and launched herself at me. “Mama said you were coming back for dinner. Are you staying forever? Can you teach me to make cookies like Nonna used to?”
“Hello, bug.” I scooped her into a hug. “I’m just visiting for now, but we can definitely make cookies. I miss Nonna’s amaretti too.”
“Brilliant!” Sofia’s attention shifted to Lucas, who was standing awkwardly near the elevator. “Are you Zia Marie’s boyfriend? You’re really tall. Not as tall as my daddy, but almost.”