Page 29 of Books and Hookups

“I have some complicated feelings about parents,” I said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take them out on you.”

A tentative smile creased his cheeks. “It’s okay. I’m sure we both have a lot of fuckups in our future.”

I squinted one eye at him. “For example, did you propose to me in the office of a bar?”

His chuckle came deep from his chest. “It’s not the last mistake I’ll make, I promise. Let’s agree to give each other a little grace?”

“Deal.” I held out my hand, and he shook it. “We’ll figure it out, together.”

12

A Good Time

Whiskey (straight up)

Pour two ounces of Jack Daniels into any glass you can find. Try to keep your hands steady as you drink it. People are depending on you.

DANNY

By the time Leo backed his truck into the driveway of our mother’s house in San Bruno, I had so many emotions swirling in my chest that I couldn’t tell if my sigh was relief that he was on time (ish) or dread about his reaction to my news. Thrilled or disappointed, in our Italian-American family, the response was sure to be loud.

The door of my ancient Toyota creaked as I got out. I jammed the key into the lock and jiggled it the way my uncle had taught me when he’d sold it to me ten years ago, then I met my brother on the driveway.

“What’s up?” he asked. “What couldn’t you tell me over the phone?”

I cuffed his shoulder. “You think I’m going to tell you in the front yard where old Mrs. McIntosh might hear? Come inside like a human. I’ll tell you and Ma together.”

I trudged up the steps, pulled open the door, and walked into the smell of meat sauce. “Ma?”

“In the kitchen. I’m making food.”

“Food?” I stepped into the familiar kitchen with its white-painted cabinets. The countertops overflowed with dishes. “It’s 10:00 a.m. on a Monday.”

She lifted the heavy lasagna pan out of the oven and set it on a folded towel with a grunt. “You said you had news. News goes best with food.”

Careful not to let her see my eye roll, I kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Ma. But this is enough food for twenty people.”

“Good thing we’re here to eat it.” My sister Giuliana walked into the kitchen holding a bottle of prosecco in one hand and a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. “Are we celebrating or commiserating?”

I kissed her cheek. “Ma, I said I wanted to talk to only you and Leo.”

“We’re family.” Ma pulled a foil-wrapped loaf of bread from the oven. “We share news.”

I’d promised Lucie I’d keep it quiet for a while. Still, Giuliana didn’t know anyone Lucie worked with. Her secret was safe.

“So, which is it?” Giuliana held up the bottles.

Grimacing, I pointed at the prosecco.

She tilted her head. “You sure?”

“No. Can we sit?” I pulled out a chair for my mother at the small, round table that was more often used as extra prep space than a dining space. My mother never hosted fewer than six people for meals, so we usually ate in the dining room at the table she’d inherited from her parents.

The front door slammed. “We’re here. What’d we miss?” My sister Elena bounded into the kitchen, followed by her twin, Tony, who went straight to the pan of lasagna.

“It’s not done resting,” Ma warned. “You can eat after Danny tells us his news.”

“Ma,” I said, “the twins? Really?”

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