Page 213 of Love Me Stalk Me
Mama keeps going.
"But, Lord, we also thank You, because perhaps—perhaps—there is hope for one of them."
I internally groan.
Cal’s hand slides beneath the tablecloth, fingers brushing up my thigh. It starts slow, a stroke, then a heated touch, before he finally curls two fingers into amonkey bite—that brutal tickle attack right behind the knee that instantly short-circuits your entire nervous system.
I jolt in my seat, choking back a laugh and a scream all at once. My knee jerks. The table rattles. My whole body tenses in mortified restraint.
He doesn’t even look at me. Just keeps his face perfectly neutral, like he’s deep in reverent reflection.
"And if it is truly Your will," Mama says, voice rising with spiritual conviction, "let it be known that I see the signs."
I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my lips together so hard they tremble.
"Let it be known," she continues, hand dramatically lifted toward the ceiling, "that I will remain vigilant for further confirmation. That I will not waver, nor turn my eyes from the truth. That I will?—"
Cal’s fingers dig in just behind my knee, pinching mercilessly. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, trying to hold it together, but it’s no use. The pressure builds until I can’t take it anymore. My leg jerks forward, slamming into the underside of the table with a loudthud. Plates rattle. Silverware jumps.
Mom gasps, eyes flying open. “A SIGN!” she cries, clutching her chest and crossing herself like we’ve just witnessed a full-blown miracle. “Did you see? The Lord hasspoken!”
“Mama!”
Everyone bursts into laughter. Dad is chuckling into his wine glass. Luca and Nico are full-on losing it. Matteo at least has the decency to look apologetic—but that's probably just for show.
And Cal? Cal is just watching me squirm, like he's enjoying every goddamn second of this.
Mama simply folds her hands together, looking pleased.
"And let us all say?—"
"Amen!" Matteo interjects quickly, clearly trying to save me.
"Amen," everyone echoes.
I am going to die. Right here. Right now. Of pure, unfiltered embarrassment.
And Cal? Cal just leans over, a whisper meant only for me—"Your mom is relentless."
I pinch the bridge of my nose, groaning. "You have no idea."
The first ten minutes of dinner are almost normal, which makes me extremely uncomfortable, because I know all hell is going to break loose.
Plates are being passed around, wine glasses are clinking, Nonna is sneaking an extra serving of pasta onto Cal's plate while muttering something about him being a "strong man" who needs "more food." Cal thanks her in perfect Italian, and I swear to God, I see her swoon.
Then my brothers get their opening.
"So, Callahan," Luca starts, twirling his fork between his fingers, his expression pure menace. "What are your intentions with our sister?"
I take one sip and immediately regret it. Coughing, sputtering, dying. Excellent. Death by wine and overprotective brother.
Cal doesn't even blink.
"My intentions?" he echoes smoothly.
Matteo nods, serious as ever. "Are you planning on sticking around?"
Cal is completely unfazed by his question. He doesn’t even hesitate. "Yes," he says simply. "I am."
