Page 47 of Luca

“I’m glad to meet you, Luca,” he says, shaking my hand. I’m grateful he doesn’t pepper me with questions like my aunt did, though I’m sure he wants the answers just as much as she does.

Giada nervously stands next to me, and Cormac turns his eyes on her then holds out his hand. “Welcome to the family,” he tells her with a kind smile. She returns it, and he leans in, kissing both of her cheeks.

“I already said that,” Maeve tells him.

“Well, dear wife, it doesn’t hurt for the girl to hear it from me.” He winks and smiles wide at Giada. And just like that, I watch the tension fall away from her as she smiles back at my uncle.

“Thank you,” she replies, and I take her hand, squeezing it as if to say see, I told you they were different from what you’ve always known.

Early afternoon turns into evening as Giada and I spend the day getting to know my family. Maeve and Eoghan do most of the talking, keeping the conversation light, mostly reminiscing about family trips and funny moments they had together growing up. No one asks me about my life before coming to Boston, and I’m thankful for it. I know it’s not because they don’t want to know. Finn asked them to hold off on questioning me, understanding that all of this can be a little overwhelming and our day already started out on shaky ground, to put it mildly.

When Eoghan’s stomach lets out a loud growl, we realize that it’s well past dinnertime. Giada and I haven’t eaten today, but until now, I didn’t notice how hungry I am. It’s been a hell of a day and my nerves are shot, as I’m sure Giada’s are.

“Finn, do you have anything to eat here?” Maeve asks.

“I brought a few things with me,” Alessia answers before standing.

“Please, let me help,” Giada offers as Alessia walks past her into the open kitchen.

Alessia nods and the women begin opening cupboards and the refrigerator, pulling out all kinds of ingredients.

“You’re lucky your wife volunteers to cook,” Finn says. “Mine barely makes me a sandwich if I ask.”

“Finnegan Monaghan, you have two hands and are perfectly capable of making your own damn food. Not to mention, we’re hardly ever home for me to cook dinner, so you can shove it,” Alessia calls from behind the large counter that separates the kitchen from the living room. “And don’t act like I never cook. I wrestled that damn tiramisu recipe from my mother’s cook and made it for you last week, and what did you say?”

“I said it was delicious,” he replies.

“No, you said it was delicious, but my mother’s cook was still better and that I should practice more.”

Maeve gasps. “Finn!”

My cousin holds up his palms. “In my defense, I only said that because Alessia is as stubborn as they come, and I thought if I challenged her to be even better than her parents’ cook, I’d be swimming in tiramisu.”

I bark out a laugh. “How did that work out for you?” I ask.

Finn shakes his head and blows out a breath. “Not well.”

Cormac laughs, and we fall back into easy conversation. My uncle imparts his wisdom of staying married for the last thirty-five years and it basically boils down to happy wife, happy life. As I watch Giada and Alessia cook together, I wonder if I’ll be sitting with her in thirty-five years or if, once all is said and done, she’ll take me up on the offer I made her today before we said our vows. That as soon as she’s safe and her brother is taken care of, she’s free to move on and get out of this life that has brought her nothing but pain and heartache.

After eating a delicious meal of pasta with a light tomato sauce and garlic bread, the Monaghans say their goodbyes, Finn telling us he’ll be back in the morning and we’ll discuss our plans now that shit is sure to have hit the fan. Maeve hugs me long and tight before getting into the elevator with the rest of her family, a teary smile on her face as the door shuts.

Giada is cleaning up the plates from dinner when I walk back into the kitchen.

“Here, let me help.” She looks at me with surprise in her eyes. “You cooked, I can clean.”

Giada shakes her head, clearing her thoughts. “Sorry, I’m not used to a man doing ‘woman’s work.’”

I roll my eyes because that’s something I’m sure her father and brother said countless times about various things. “That’s some antiquated bullshit, Giada. We’ve both had a long fucking day, and there’s no reason any of this”—I sweep my hand over the pile of dishes in the sink—“should fall on you just because you’re a woman.”

She smiles and steps back, taking her glass of wine and sitting on the couch while I roll up my sleeves and get to work.

When I’ve finished, Giada is practically falling asleep where she sits.

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go to bed.”

Her gaze darts to me and she looks at the loft on the other side of the open space where the only bedroom is.

“I’ll take the couch,” I offer, and she nods. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of disappointment in her gaze, but she doesn’t argue with me as she trudges up the stairs.

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