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I must suddenly look worried, because she immediately leans forward and covers my knee with her hand. The DeLucas’ love language, it seems, is definitely physical touch.
“I would never have said that if I didn’t think this was different,” she assures me.
Skeptical, I look from her to Chari.
Lusanne sits back in her chair.
“He doesn’t bring women home to meet his parents,” Chari adds. “Is what Lusanne is trying to say. Like, ever.”
“Ever?”
“When was the last time?” Chari asks Lusanne.
“Honestly, I have no idea. It’s probably been like, let me think, more than two or three years. Maybe more.”
That floors me. “Are you serious?”
She grins, clearly ecstatic. “Yes. Which is why we are all so happy.”
Hence, the greeting.
“Plus, you’re in the same business. So you get his crazy schedule. That’s always been a problem with all of our significant others. Even me, and I only work with Mom and Dad, and Tris, part-time.”
“But we’re competitors,” I point out, one of my biggest worries about Tris and me.
“Competitor shemetitor,” Lusanne says. “Who cares?”
Chari laughs. “I still can’t believe you’re sitting here, at a family lunch, because of our wedding. Can you imagine if the two of you get married? We’d be related.”
I try to back this train up.
“We have been dating exactly two weeks,” I remind them both.
Yet no one seems bothered by that fact.
A head pokes out of the screen door.
Gian.
“Lunch is served, kids.”
As we stand, I try to tamp down the bubble of excitement welling inside of me. The tinge of jealousy I felt earlier, at what I’m missing, is replaced by a glimmer of hope. An amazing boyfriend with a close-knit, supportive family, one of whom happens to be a longtime friend. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that when things seem too good to be true, as my situation does right now, something will inevitably go wrong.
31
Tristano
“You didn’t have to do this.”
Evie walks out onto the deck in white cutoffs and a tank top, and I’m immediately pissed at my own restaurant. I should be taking her home after this, peeling off those jean shorts and making love to her for the rest of the evening.
Instead, we’re squeezing in a quick dinner before I get back to work. We’re slammed this coming week. A confirmation party, wedding rehearsal dinner, and private luncheon tomorrow for an engineering firm, which is closing us down. It will be the week from hell. Thankfully, Evie completely understands that it might be tough to get together for a few days.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to escape much this week,” I say, pulling her toward me and trying not to think of another night here two weeks ago.
Every time I walk out onto this deck, my eyes travel to this very spot. I consider leaving my staff and heading to Leoni’s and pulling Evie out of her restaurant, and . . .
“You’ve got that look,” she says, staring at me. Her hands rest on my shoulders as if they’ve been there for years. My own are wrapped around her waist, where they belong. I feel it in my bones, the fact that Evie and I are meant to be together.
