Page 47 of The Woman in the Garage

“My cousin Luca, yeah. And, technically, my Uncle Antony,” I said, gesturing over toward where Uncle Ant was standing beside a table, a woman’s hand clasped between both of his.

You wouldn’t know by looking at him now—the friendly, outgoing, warm restaurateur—that Antony Grassi had once ruled our Family with an iron grip. Times had been different when he’d been coming up. Harder. More unstable. Our Family name didn’t have the same respect back then. So he’d needed to force everyone to know they couldn’t fuck with us. Word was, itwas violent and scary times, culminating in Antony’s wife—Luca and Matteo’s mom—being murdered in their own home.

Antony had been a ruthless and fierce boss in his day. But once he’d handed over the reins to his eldest son, he got to relax into retirement, becoming the warm and lovable patriarch of the family, instead of the boss of the Family.

“That’s your uncle? You know, I can see a bit of a family resemblance,” Dasha declared. “He’s aged really well.”

“Quit eye-fucking my uncle,” I demanded, making a surprised laugh escape her.

“Hey, if you age half that well, you’re going to be a real silver fox one day.”

“I’ll keep that… oh, we’re spotted,” I said, seeing Uncle Ant making a beeline for us, stopping only to scoop a bottle of wine off the wall. From a high shelf. Uncle Ant always did like to show off a bit.

“Santo!” Uncle Ant declared as he got close to the table, tucking the bottle under his arm as he raised an arm.

I slid out of the booth, letting him grab the back of my neck as I gave him a quick hug. “Uncle Ant. How you been?”

“You know me,” was his answer, releasing me. “But I don’t know this lovely young lady.”

I barely managed to hold back an eye roll.

“Uncle Ant, this is Dasha. Dasha, this is my uncle, Antony. Dasha is Phil’s niece,” I explained. “From Phil’s Autos.”

“Of course! Phil. I heard about him. I’m sorry for your loss, honey,” he said, practically shoving the bottle of wine at me so he could hold Dasha’s hand between both of his.

“Thank you,” she said, giving him one of her megawatt smiles. “It’s so nice to meet you. This place is fantastic.”

“Wait until you try the food!”

“Santo was telling me it is even better than Lucky’s food. Which is hard to believe.”

“Best around,” Uncle Ant said, too proud to be humble. “Save for your mother’s cooking, of course,” he added, looking at me. “And Adrian’s as well. Have you brought her to Giulia’s table yet?” he asked, making me almost groan.

“Uh, no,” I admitted. “I haven’t seen Ma in a bit,” I added. I wouldn’t say the silent part out loud: I haven’t told my mother about Dasha. Though, I knew how information traveled in my family. She’d likely know by the end of the night.

Then, fuck, then I would never hear the end of it.

I could just hear my mother already.Who is this girl your uncle saw you with? When am I going to meet her? Bring her to Sunday dinner. Does she want children? Can she cook?

“I can’t believe he’s been keeping you from us,” Uncle Ant went on.

“Oh, no. It’s not… we’re…” Dasha tried to defend me.

But whatwerewe?

What were we doing?

Clearly, neither of us had any idea.

“Oh, you’re alwaysnotuntil you are,” Uncle Ant said with a gleam in his eye. “Well, I won’t keep you from this lovely lady. Please enjoy your meal. Santo, you need to go see your mother,” he said, tone just shy of scolding.

“Um, can he be my uncle?” Dasha asked when I slid back into the booth. “He’s… a lot. But in a good way.”

“That’s pretty much how you can describe my whole family,” I admitted, spreading the napkin on my lap as the server came up to pour our wine. “Do you drink?” I asked.

“I don’tnotdrink,” she said with a shrug as she reached for her wineglass.

All I could think about as I watched her take a sip was how good that wine would taste on her lips.

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