Page 84 of City of Wind and Lies

Corrine shifts me toward another woman closer to her age on Rocco's left. "This is Bowie's Zia Lisa. Rocco's mother."

Bowie told me about her on the way over, not that he thought I'd stare, but because Lisa is sensitive about her looks. She was out in their front yard when the car bomb that killed Rocco's dad went off, leaving her with some nasty scars and a prosthetic leg.

"Nice to meet you," Lisa greets with a reserved smile.

"You as-"

"Sorry, I'm late!" a female voice yells as a door slams shut.

"And that would be Nicky, Bowie's little sister."

Heels clip against the tile as Nicky comes down the hall. "Had a meeting with a distributor and it ran late, then the till wouldn't balance, and man, it was just a day." She runs a hand through her caramel highlights as she approaches Sal, kissing his cheeks and turning to do the same to Bowie.

The fitted white top and high-waisted black slacks with a flared leg accentuate her figure and leave me feeling severely underdressed. It's easy to see that the Sorrentino genes are like winning the lottery around here.

"Nicky," Corrinne waves her daughter over. "This is Wren, Bowie's girlfriend."

"So, she does exist," she muses, tilting her head to the side. She gives me a once over before swiveling her head toward Bowie and offering him a fist bump. "Nice, bro."

Bowie shakes his head at her as he crosses the room towards me. "C'mon ma, stop hogging my girl."

"Fine," Corrine sighs, squeezing my shoulders. "We're so glad to have you here, Wren. Make yourself at home."

"Thank you."

'Twenty-minute timer is up,' an electronic voice announces.

"Oh! That's the ziti," Corinne claps her hands together. "Nicky, come help me bring things to the table."

"Well," Sal grunts, pushing to his feet. "Let's eat."

Bowie's hand rests at the small of my back as he guides me towards a formal dining room. Everyone filters in, taking their seats as Corinne and Nicky bring out dinner. I take a look around, still in awe of the place. The large table probably cost more than my car. Bowie puts a generous helping of baked sausage ziti on a plate along with some salad and places it down in front of me as everyone else helps themselves to the various platters.

"Wine, Wren?" Corinne asks.

"No, thank you,” I reply shyly. “Water’s fine."

"Oh, nonsense. My cooking is even better with wine."

"Not true, Amore mio," Sal says with a warmth in his voice that surprises me. "My Cori is an excellent cook. So don't be shy here, Wren, eat up."

Sal is right, the food is delicious- and I'm quick to dig into it as the family falls into what seems like an easy conversation filled with Italian curses that has Corinne admonishing them and playful banter that makes everyone laugh.

The entire night, Bowie's hand rests on the back of my chair while he engages with his family, and it's adorable to see him like this. A pang of jealousy echoes in my chest when I start to think about all the family dinners that I missed out on growing up, but the phantom pain quickly ebbs when I realize that my baby is going to have this. Not just with Bowie and I, but they will have extended family as well.

"So, Wren," Sal's gravelly tone gets my attention. "Are you from Chicago?"

"Yup, as far as I know, born and raised."

A large hand with platinum rings strokes the stubble of his chin as he eyes me in contemplation. "As far as you know?"

Letting out a breath, I give the same spiel I do every time my origins come up.

He hums in response, while others offer me gentle smiles and thankfully no one tries to pity me.

"How old are you?" Sal asks.

"Twenty-three," I answer, suddenly feeling like I’m under interrogation.

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