Page 101 of Forty, Flirty & Fake-ly Yours

"Actually," Grayson says before I can respond, "I might have some insights about some dating strategies?—"

"Don't you dare start calculating anything right now," I warn him.

His kiss is answer enough.

Behind us, I hear Nonna Flora shout out: "Like my special Sunday gravy – sometimes best recipes are ones you can't measure. Just have to feel." She pauses. "Also, everyone come to dinner this Sunday. Is time to celebrate!"

It’s true. Some pattern really are better when they're broken.

But Sunday dinner sure as hell isn’t one of them.

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One monthlater

GRAYSON

Sunday family dinners are supposed to be straightforward—a wholesome ritual involving food, laughter, and bonding. Roz and I planned this one with military precision: Merge her half-Heart & Soul family/half-big Italian clan with my somewhat buttoned-up family, serve a feast, and showcase the triumph of our "hybrid matchmaking approach." Nothing could go wrong.

Or so we thought.

One month after crashing Roz's singles group, and my perfectly ordered world has descended into beautiful chaos.

Seattle's record snowfall has finally started to melt, but my mother’s dining room is generating enough warmth to thaw a glacier—mostly because it’s currently hosting what has to be the most eclectic family dinner in the city's history.

"CORA," I mutter, watching Nonna Flora teach my mother the "correct" way to plate pasta, "please tell me you’re recording this for posterity."

"Of course, sir. Though I feel compelled to note that your heart rate suggests elevated stress levels. Would you like me to compile a thorough analysis of?—"

"Mister Gray!" Bianca tugs at my sleeve, bouncing with the kind of energy that suggests Nonna Flora’s been sneaking her cannoli. "Can you teach me more binary code? I want to write a love poem for your AI!"

"CORA doesn’t need?—"

"Actually," Roz appears beside me in the kitchen doorway, holding a glass of wine and looking beautiful in another retro dress that makes her look like she’s rationed sugar in a past life. "I think that’s a great idea. Very ‘statistically significant’.”

"You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

Her smile makes my breath catch. "Not a chance."

Before I can respond, chaos erupts from the direction of the dining room.

"So," my sister Natasha’s voice carries clearly, "tell us more about your job in finance, James. Any interesting... quirks we should know about?"

"Oh God," Roz mutters. "They’re interrogating Dani’s new boyfriend."

"I give him ten minutes before he cracks," Connor calls from the living room. "Grams already has her relationship questionnaire ready."

"Questionnaire?" Roz raises one perfect eyebrow. "Should we rescue him?"

I lean into the doorway of the sitting room only to find James—Dani’s supposedly “normal” boyfriend—try to explain derivatives trading while Connor’s grandmother takes suspiciously detailed notes.

Through the archway, I can see these two families merging in ways my algorithms never could have predicted.

Mia’s teaching Mac and Alex some kind of K-pop dance.

Derek’s deep in conversation with Natasha’s fiancé Mark about hospital gossip, while Olivia and Natasha appear to be plotting something that probably involves my relationship’s emotional wellbeing.

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