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Mercer’s stare burned into me. The teacup in his vicious grip did the same to his hand. He tossed the cup into the sink, and it cracked against the matching teapot.
“Damn you, boy. That one was my favorite.”
Mercer glared across the table at Ethan, now back in his seat, before he ducked out of the way of a rolling pin attack. It narrowly missed, unlike his Nonna’s agitation. “One of these days, Mercer! One of these days! It’ll be your head and not my fine china!”
“Just think, if you weren’t the favorite, she’d have caught you by now.” Ethan laughed, not caring all that much that he was second in line for her love.
A robotic voice came from a nearby speaker. “It’s not her lack of love. It’s your inability to do anything in appropriate time.” Mercer had stolen Ethan’s smirk and a cannoli, from which he took a single large bite before placing it back on the table. Remembering how delicious they were, I craved one and had to wipe the drool from my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Have one,” Trix encouraged, “Who knows when you ate a full meal last.”
“Last night...thank you. Dinner was delicious.”
Trix straightened, old bones clicking. “I didn’t get in until after twelve, dear, but I’m glad they fed you. They’re decent cooks when they make the effort.”
My eyes moved to Mercer, and he stepped out of my view, knowing my stiff neck wouldn’t allow me to follow him and see the truth.
He had fed me.
Like he did the little fox.
And it brought a smile to my face that I couldn’t hide.
Trix started kneading dough by hand, her fingers flattening out the thickness.
My eyes wandered again, seeing the gleeful expression on Ethan’s face as he mouthed the words, “I knew you’d cave,” to Mercer, who stood as far away as possible, with his body stiffer than mine.
The workmen popped their heads around the corner, already paid and ready to leave, and shouted their goodbyes.
Trix and Ethan replied with the same generic words of parting.
I said another thank you.
And Mercer bowed his head, his tense smile barely visible to them as they slipped out.
“Anyway, finish that cannoli,” Nonna insisted, and her favorite grandchild refused, moving back into my view and shaking his head, his hand on his stomach like he was already full. I’d eaten one when she offered, but the half he left called to me, and I found myself reaching for it while more silent messages were exchanged between the men on each side of me.
Ethan’s lips moved, “Looks like your little crush is still reciprocated,” he mouthed. “She doesn’t mind sharing your tongue germs.”
I finished the cannoli, my theft uncommented on by anyone else.
A lump of dough landed before me, thrown across the tabletop by Trix. Flour dusted the long shirt, which was surely a man’s. I’d dressed myself in it yesterday and hadn’t changed.
I started to knead, but I had no idea what I was doing.
“Never cooked or baked before?” Trix asked, a gray eyebrow disappearing beneath her wispy bangs.
“Not really. Not since making cakes with my mom as a child.” I lifted the dough, the pieces I pressed still stuck to the table. “What are you making?”
“Torta Della Nonna. And you’re going to help. It’ll give you something to do today.”
“You’ll have to walk me through it.”
“I intend to. A woman your age should know how to feed herself, and no disrespect, but it looks like you could do with some fattening up.”
“Nonna!” Mercer began typing another transmission, this one coming through Ethan’s mouth.
“Her leg muscles have deteriorated because she can’t use them,” the robotic voice added.
