Page 86 of Shades of Grey & Gold

“Absolutely not,” he states it like it’s final.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s fine, she’s only here a week.”

“You haven’t seen the damage Nico can do in a week.”

“He gave her one look, it’s fine.”

“Nico’s looks are a whole situation.” He gently steers me away from the kitchen by the elbow.

He takes me to the table and we find our seats. He tells me about Christmas as a kid and how his mom would make a literal feast. He says she’s pared it back considerably, which surprises me because based on what she is doing tonight, I can only imagine what we are in for tomorrow.

At dinner, Nico and Becca argue about whether the pasta water was salty enough, a subject on which Becca has extremely strong opinions that she is willing to defend at length. Nico argues back with equal commitment. Becca insists it tastes perfect, while Nico plays with fire criticizing his own mother’s cooking. But neither backs down from their opposite sides of the table.

Becca catches my gaze when Nico looks away and she winks. That’s when I know for sure that she’s arguing just for the sake of getting Nico fired up.

Sophia watches them with her chin in her hand and a smile she’s trying to hide, and Carmela says something in Italian that makes Maggie laugh and Nico go silent.

I peek at Cal.

Cal looks at his plate.

Becca finds me in the family room later, when dinner is winding down. Everyone is drifting between the kitchen and the living room, and Gio has finally, mercifully, accepteda plate of food from Carmela. He refused to eat at the table and started walking back to sit in the car when Carmela yelled something in Italian and he immediately did an about-face to sit down at the table.

Becca sits on the enormous green sectional and doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“He’s it for you,” she tells me.

I don’t ask who she means.

“Yeah,” I offer back. “I think so, too.”

“No, I mean—” She looks at me carefully. “I’ve watched you fall in love before—from afar, but it counts—with Patrick, and it always looked like something you were managing. Like love was a project you were running, and trying to make work.” She pauses. “This doesn’t look like that.”

I know she’s right.

“This looks like—” she searches for the word. “Easy. Like breathing. Like you forgot to be anxious about it because you were too busy just being in love and happy.”

I think about the kitchen this morning, making his coffee. I think about the café; the way he sits across from me and argues about cases he’s still working from afar and means every word he says. The reading chair in the corner of his living room with the good lamp. The pamphlets on my desk. So many years of a story I kept thinking was finished.

Becca leans her head on my shoulder.

We sit there for a minute in the quiet, Christmas lights twinkling around us.

“Also,” she lifts her head to continue, “your future brother-in-law is extremely attractive. And extremely annoying and I’m not entirely sure what to do with that information, but I think we might fu—”

“No,” I counter immediately. “You do nothing with that information.”

“Obviously,” she tosses back, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “Obviously I know that. I’m just—noting it. For the record, telling you what could happen if I didn’t know better.” She heads for the door. “But yeah, the mafia thing probably doesn’t translate well over a long distance.”

She flips her hair and squares her shoulders, probably preparing to go pick another fight with Nico as she leaves.

I sit for another moment alone in the room.

Then I go find Cal.