Page 31 of The Dominator

He nodded, then he spoke Italian to the waiter.

“I heard you’re half Italian. You speak it?” he asked after the order was taken.

“No, my mom was Italian, but she never taught me. She only spoke it in the house when she was yelling at my dad or using it to keep some secret from me talking on the phone. We never understood her, but knew when she spoke Italian someone was either about to get something good or get in trouble.” I laughed a little, and then I knew my face sobered, thinking about her, about my dad.

“I ordered us the lasagna. The lasagna here is to die for.” Tommy tried to change the subject. “The only lasagna better was my mother’s. She never passed the recipe on before she died, but my sister Tessa does pretty good.”

“I think my mom was the only Italian woman in the world who couldn’t cook,” I said, smiling, but Dad could cook. Between Dad and Rose, I’d learned to cook, too.

Dad had shown me how to make meals seemingly from nothing. When the fridge and pantry had been nearly bare at times he’d come up with gourmet concoctions. I’d watch and had started to make suggestions for spices or additions to the meals based on what I could find in the cupboard or freezer. We joked that we could make anything taste gourmet with a little of Dad’s secret spice blend.

The waiter brought warm bread and an antipasto platter. It smelled mouth-watering and for the first time in days I was actually hungry. It all tasted as good as it smelled, “Oh, this is so good!” I exclaimed and Tommy looked happy. He kind of smiled like ice cream parlor guy, looking insanely attractive. He wore jeans but with a black button-down dress shirt today under a blazer and the top few buttons were down. I could see a little of his chest. There was a thick silver chain on his neck with a crucifix of about two inches long on it. I felt a pang in my gut, reminding me that it was just wishful thinking that this wasn’t what I was pretending it was, that this wasn’t a real date with that guy that I’d daydreamed about.

After it was over, he wouldn’t walk me to my door at my new apartment and kiss me goodnight before we’d go our separate ways. If only. If only after tonight I could dream about our second date. I’d call my friends and we’d talk about the date for hours. If only…

Watching her eat was a beautiful thing. Sarah had complained that she’d barely eaten anything since arriving. She was talkative, too; nothing too in-depth, but we conversed about the food, the restaurant, and the mood was light. She seemed carefree.

But then staring into her dessert, she started to take on the look of someone with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

My phone rang just before I delved into my dessert. I answered.

“Tommy! We’ve got a huge problem. Huge!” It was Luciana, my sister.

“Is it the baby?” I exclaimed into the phone. Tia looked up at me from her tiramisu.

“No; we have a big problem because I’ve just heard the news, news that did not come from you. You’re engaged! I’m going to punch you in the nuts for letting me find out from someone else. How could you?”

I let out a little huff. “Seriously, Luc?”

“Yes, seriously! Q’uest que fuck, Tommy?”

“It’s not official yet so no nut-punching, all right? I’m not alone. Tia and I are out for dinner. I’ll call you later.”

“Bring her Sunday for dinner to Pop’s. We need to meet her. I’ve got Tess here. She agrees.”

“That was already part of the plan,” I answered. “Gotta go.”

Tia was looking at me curiously. I shrugged. “My sisters just found out about you. They’re anxious to meet you. Sunday there’s dinner at my Pop’s. We’re expected. You get to have the whole Ferrano experience all at once.” I rolled my eyes.

Her eyes widened fractionally, then she said, “Tell me about them.”

“Well, there’s Contessa - Tessa, she’s, ah, 22, has two boys, aged one and almost three. There’s Dario - Dare, you met him, he’s 24 and single, then there’s Luciana, Luc, she’s 22 also. She and Tess are like 10 months apart, and she’s pregnant with her third. She has two-year-old twin girls.”

“Uncle Tommy? You’re the oldest?”

I smirked at her, feeling a twinge at my name on her lips. That might’ve been the first time she’d said it. “That’s me. Thomas Vincent Ferrano Jr. 29. The three of them are my half siblings. Pop remarried after my mother died. That marriage didn’t last though, so he got married again. That didn’t last either. Now he’s on wife number four. Lisa is the same age as Dare. She’s good friends with the girls.”

Tia winced.

“Yeah. That didn’t go over well at first. Everyone’s over it. Pop’s a real ladies’ man.”

She shuffled uneasily in her seat. I looked at her curiously.

“I’m so full,” she said, putting her fork down.

I signaled for the waiter to bring the bill. “Wanna take a walk? Walk off all these carbs?”

“Great idea.” She smiled at me. Her smile seemed genuine. She was a damn fine actress so far. This was good to know.

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