Page 32 of Luca

“You’re from California?” she asks around a mouthful of the gooey sandwich.

“Born and raised.” Partially true.

“So it was just you and your dad?”

“Yup.”

“You’re really forthcoming with the details, huh?”

I shrug as she watches me expectantly. “I grew up in a little town with my dad. He did the best he could with what he had.” It was pretty damn great, in my opinion, but I can’t exactly divulge too many details.

“When was the last time you went out to visit him?”

“I don’t. He died before I moved to Boston.”

And that look of pity is back in her eyes. “You’re alone in the world,” Giada says, her eyes growing watery.

Something cracks in my chest. This girl, who has no one in the world who cares for her, has to live with who is probably the worst brother and father I’ve ever met. She has to navigate through a world where she has no hope for personal autonomy and she’s in tears over me losing my family. She doesn’t know the truth, that I’m here because of my family, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to take some of her sadness away. I don’t deserve her sympathy, just like she doesn’t deserve to be collateral damage in this war.

I send her a soft smile. “I’m far from alone right now, though. And you’re right about these sandwiches. They’re fucking delicious.” I take a huge bite and hum in satisfaction.

My reaction brightens her sad eyes and she smiles wide. “I mean, I’m not going to say I told you so, but…”

“I would expect nothing less. I also wouldn’t say no if you wanted to make another one for me.”

She laughs and the sound lifts a bit of the weight that’s been sitting in my chest.

“I’ve created a PB and J monster.”

She hasn’t created a monster, but she’s gone a long way in calming the one that’s been living inside me for the last six years.

After finishing our grilled sandwiches, it only takes another thirty minutes for her to pass out on the giant couch in the living room. I consider leaving her there, but if her brother comes home and finds her passed out drunk on my watch, I know he won’t be particularly happy with either of us. The last thing I need is to ruin my chances of getting off babysitting duty. So I take her to bed, lay a trash can next to her just in case and shut the door behind me before going back to my own room.

The next morning, when I step into the bright kitchen, I find Giada sitting at the small table next to the large bay window. She has sunglasses covering her eyes and her dark hair is in a messy bun on top of her head. At some point in the night, she must have gotten up and changed into sleep pants and a sweatshirt because that's not what I put her to bed in. A small smile plays on my lips at her disheveled appearance. I’ve never seen her less than completely put together, even when she was a teenager in high school. This is the look of a woman who had far too much alcohol coursing through her veins the night before and is paying the price this morning.

“Morning,” I say cheerily, grabbing myself a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” she croaks out, raising her glasses from her bloodshot eyes. She scrubs a hand over her makeup-free face, something else I don’t think I’ve ever seen and clears her throat. “Umm, thanks again for putting up with me yesterday. And for putting me to bed. I was…not in a good place.”

“Don’t mention it,” I reply, waving off her concerns.

“I was thinking about something I told you yesterday. About how I used to take dance lessons.”

I nod, not only remembering her telling me but also her dancing around the bar and then the living room last night.

“I think I’d like to start again. There’s a studio—”

“You look like shit, Giada.” Carlo walks in and sneers at her disheveled state.

“Fuck off, Carlo,” she throws back.

He stops and looks her dead in the eye. “You’ll need to start thinking twice about how you speak to me. Remember, Dad’s not here anymore to protect his little princess.”

It takes effort, but I manage to hold in the eye roll. That man never protected Giada from anything.

“You can go jump off—” she starts.

“Giada was just telling me she wants to start dance lessons again,” I cut in. It’s too damn early in the morning for the Cataldi siblings to start World War III. Plus, Giada doesn’t know it, but Carlo’s patience with his sister is thinner than it’s ever been, and I don’t know what will happen if he lays a hand on her in front of me. Not after last night and seeing another side to the girl sitting at the table trying to hold the remnants of her life together.

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