Page 95 of The Great Dating Fake Off
“Is there a purpose to this surprise visit other than to pass judgment on my clothing?” He does a crunch to take a sip.
“We’re playing poker tonight at Sebastian’s grandma’s house.” Alessia looks at her watch. “She’s preparing a feast. You have five minutes to change before you make us late.”
He sits up. “I didn’t— I don’t— Wait, what?”
“You know better than to keep an Italian grandmother waiting. Let’s go.”
“Since when does your grandmother play poker?” he asks me, as if that’s the point.
“Since Truman was in office, if I had to guess. I invited you multiple times. You were busy.”
This gives me a nice segue into but you were mysteriously busy due to a secret relationship with Ro, and speaking of, how are you feeling about all that?
He chews the inside of his cheek. “I guess that’s accurate.”
Alessia and I stand there waiting.
“Will there be booze?” he asks.
“An abundance,” I assure him.
“Fine.” He sighs and strips off his shirt. “Are you going to watch me take my pants off, too, pervs?”
“Ew, you aren’t wearing underwear, are you?” Alessia stalks across his living room toward his bedroom. “Stand by, Man Child. I’ll help you get dressed like an adult human.”
“Do not go into our dresser unless you want to see a lot of Rosalina’s stuff,” he yells after her.
Her voice gets quieter as she moves deeper into their bedroom. “Please, we’ve all got— oh wow. That’s a lot of stuff. So many colors.”
Enzo’s expression shifts from smug to distant.
I clasp a hand on the back of my neck. I’ve apologized no less than five times in text but doing it in person seems like the next step. “Listen bud, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t, Rossi. I’m fine. And I’m about to be even better after I rob you silly in poker.” He rises to his feet. “Now excuse me while I put on some underwear hand-picked by my twin sister because that’s totally fucking normal.”
…
Nora’s car pulls up to my curb right as I park in the driveway. The distraction of adult-napping Enzo from his couch and then picking up Eloise almost allowed me to forget that I’m breaking my own rule and inviting a woman to Nella’s house.
A woman who, historically, I have difficulty not looking at, talking to, or touching.
Nella buzzed around the kitchen like a worker bee all afternoon, treating the meal more like Thanksgiving than poker night. Manicotti, cucumber salad, three apple pies. I told her it was just two extra people compared to usual, but she was not deterred.
Nora is new to us! We have to show her our best so she feels very welcome in our home.
Did I tell Nella what happened between me and Nora at the wedding? No way.
Did she find out anyway when Alessia came over and blurted the whole story to her while I was mowing the grass, unaware that I hadn’t mentioned it myself?
You bet.
Nella is living her best life, knowing I invited a woman over and gleefully misinterpreting what it means.
I am in hell. This won’t end well.
“Nora’s here!” Alessia shoots me a shit-eating grin before turning her baseball hat backward, which she deems the appropriate way to wear hats in the house. “Can’t wait to watch you stare at her like a lovesick teenager.”
“Shut up,” I utter miserably. “That’s not what this is.”
