Page 211 of Love Me Stalk Me
I groan. “Nonna,no.”
Mama, ever the helpful interpreter, smiles sweetly. “She says you were such a little string bean when you were young. Couldn’t even tell you apartfrom the boys.”
Cal chuckles under his breath.
“She also says you’ve got good child-bearing hips now. A body ready for babies.”
I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
Cal nods solemnly. "I agree."
"Oh my GOD."
Mama shakes her head, moving to the refrigerator. She pulls out a bottle of wine, examining the label before handing it to Cal—who, notably, still hasn’t managed to escape Nonna’s grip. Not that he seems to be trying. She’s latched onto his arm like he’s already part of the family, and he just… lets her. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
"Here, open this. And Izzy, I wish you would've told me you were bringing someone. I would've made something lighter. You always said you didn't like the heavier dishes since you gained weight."
My cheeks burn. I'd forgotten I'd made that comment to her a few months ago, during one of Evan's worst "diet suggestion" phases. It stings even more because it wasn't even true—I love Mama's heavier dishes. I was just trying to explain away why I wasn't eating as much as usual.
Before I can respond, Cal steps in smoothly.
"Actually, ma'am," he says, his voice calm but firm, "I think Izzy looks perfect exactly as she is." His eyes meet mine across the kitchen, sincere and steady. "I've always preferred women with real curves. A woman should look like a woman, not a stick figure."
Mama pauses, her spoon hovering over the sauce.
Nonna claps her hands together in delight, rapid-firing something in Italian about how handsome Cal's babies will be.
"Well," Mama says finally, her eyes landing on Cal, then me. "It's nice to hear a young man with some sense." She turns back to her cooking, but not before eyeing Cal with what can only be described as maternal appreciation.
I duck my head, embarrassed but oddly touched. Cal moves closer, his hand finding the small of my back, a gentle pressure that grounds me. He leans in, his lips brushing my ear. "I meant every word," he murmurs, so only I can hear.
Mama flaps a dishcloth at us. "Out, out of my kitchen! Dinner in five minutes!"
"Dad," I say, suddenly appearing at my dad's side. "Can you please control Nonna?" Because she’s currently trying to grab ahold of Cal’s bicep again.
Dad just sips his wine, watching Tony Soprano and Lady Gaga battle over a scrap of prosciutto he definitely snuck them. "Controlling Nonna is like controlling the tides, sweetheart.Impossible."
Cal lets Nonna hold onto his arm again before he smiles and leans down to place a gentle kiss against my temple, whispering, "All is good."
We make our way into the dining room, and I grimace, because I know that the worst is yet to come.
Mama is yelling at everyone to wash their hands, Nonna is accusing Luca of trying to "steal" an extra meatball, and Dad is just standing off to the side, drinking his wine and letting the chaos unfold. The dogs weave between everyone's legs, barking at the slightest movement, and I swear I see Dad slip them both bits of cheese under the table.
Nico slides into place next to Cal, immediately flexing his arm. "So, you think you're strong, huh?"
Cal raises an eyebrow. "I'm alright."
"Arm wrestle. Now."
I close my eyes briefly. "Nico, not at the table."
"What, scared he'll lose?"
Cal shrugs. "I'm game."
Before I can protest, they've cleared a space, elbows planted firmly on the table. Dad edges closer, suddenly interested. Even Matteo looks up from helping his wife settle the baby.
"Hundred bucks says Cal takes him down in ten seconds," Matteo murmurs to Luca.
