Page 157 of King of Obsession

Mia brought out platters of frito misto—crispy fried vegetables, calamari, and shrimp. Every bite was a burst of flavor, the crunch of the batter giving way to the tender sweetness of the seafood.

‘Eat! Eat! There’s more to come!’ Mia teased, noticing my hesitation as I reached for another piece. ‘This is just the beginning.’

The table became laden with dishes, each more enticing than the last. We eagerly dug in, starting with the gnocchi ina rich, savory scampi sauce. The dumplings were like little pillows of heaven, complemented by the deep, garlicky relish.

‘Oh, Mia, this is divine,’ I couldn’t help but murmur.

Next came a tender and flavorful osso buco dish, the meat melting off the bone. It was paired with steamed spinach, and its earthy bitterness was a perfect counterpoint to the meat’s richness. A simple salad of mixed greens followed, a refreshing pause between the more indulgent courses.

During the meal, the room was filled with laughter and conversation. The mix of Italian and English created a lively, warm atmosphere as everyone tried to translate for me, often speaking over each other.

‘Now, this is what I call a feast!’ Alessio exclaimed, leaning back in his chair with a contented sigh.

Throughout the evening, the boisterous chatter and the sharing of food and stories were a revelation to me. Having lived alone for so long, I hadn’t realized how much I missed the energy and connection from a meal shared with others.

We ate surrounded by affection and conversation.

To everyone’s amusement, Lorenzo, Mia’s husband, recounted anecdotes from his childhood, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he mimicked his father’s stern voice.

I gained insight into Alessio’s family and witnessed their devotion to each other. Their banter and soft gibes told of a deep, familial bond.

‘Alessio is so in love with you,’ Mia stated as we prepped the decadent dessert dish in her beautiful kitchen.

‘He’s everything,’ I said. ‘I adore him just as much, if not more.’

She hugged me spontaneously. ‘I’m so happy you’re in his life, in our life.’

I squeezed her back, sensing her genuine acceptance and soaking it up.

‘Grazie, for the welcome. I didn’t know how much I needed this.’

Mia smiled, reaching out to squeeze my hand. ‘From what Lorenzo shared, you’ve been through the wringer. Processing it all can be difficult, so call me anytime, honey, if you need to chat.’

She winked; I beamed back, knowing I’d gained an instant sister.

We reappeared at the table with the pudding: a refreshing sorbet and a lovely tiramisu. Its layers of coffee-soaked ladyfingers and creamy mascarpone were the perfect sweet end to the feast.

ALESSIO

Just after dinner, my brothers and I, Mauri, Mia, and Cleo, lingered around the expansive table.

Our faces lit with the warm glow of the chandelier above us.

The centerpiece of the evening was the bottle of grappa that sat in the middle of the surface. Its color caught the firelight, reflecting a thousand tiny flames in the tulip-shaped glasses that stood waiting.

Lorenzo reached for the carafe, his hand steady as he poured the spirit with practiced ease.

The liquid flowed, filling each glass to the curve, where the aroma would be most intense.

Lorenzo lifted his own when the glasses were filled, and we followed suit without hesitation.

The crystal chimed as the crystal pinged together, a sound that resonated with our shared history.

‘Famiglia,’ Lorenzo began, his voice rich and deep, carrying the echoes of our father. ‘Per tutto quello che abbiamo superato insieme. To the family. For everything we’ve overcome together.’

From losing our parents and our aunt in recent times to forging a new path, this was a night of remembrance.

We nodded, our eyes meeting over the rims of our glasses. Vitto, the youngest, grinned, his usual mischievousness tempered by the gravity of the night.

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