Page 59 of Bitter Prince
I eyed all three of them, my attention straying back to Papà. “All that, huh?” None of them moved. “So what’s for dinner?”
A pause.
“Spaghetti,” Maria answered, confirming her ears were on alert after all.
I knew getting any information out of the others would be pointless, but I could work on Maria.
Twenty minutes later, we sat on the brick patio, right outside the dining room.
“Why do Italians always want to eat spaghetti?” Grandma complained. “Don’t they know it ruins their figure? Not to mention it’s unhealthy.”
Nobody commented. Grandma was always harping on about some diet, so we were used to her mentioning carbs, gluten, sugar, dairy—the list went on. She even went through a strictly vegan stage. I was never happier to be living away at boarding school than during that time. I’d ensure I left stuffed with beef and carbs before we visited her.
I shoved a forkful of spaghetti into my mouth and chewed. Papà slurped his noodles, his eyes narrowed on Grandma. I was fairly certain he did that on purpose. Immature? Yes. Did it stop him? No.
But at the moment, it was entertaining to watch.
“It’s hot as Hades out here,” she continued her complaints. “Should we go inside before we all melt and become spaghetti ourselves?”
I wore a short white dress with pink polka dots, my feet bare on the deck. I didn’t think it was so bad, but then I wasn’t wearing black pants and a light green sweater like she was.
“I wonder if we’d be edible,” Phoenix chimed in. “Or would that be considered cannibalism?”
There was an awkward pause. My sister’s eyes flitted my way and I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to burst out laughing. Her lip twitched and she rolled her eyes.
Grandma harrumphed, getting to her feet, shooting us all a look. “Well, I’m going inside. You can melt away.”
Her husband didn’t follow her, and I wondered whether that was the reason he was still around. He seemed to know when to leave her to her own devices.
Papà took a drink and set his glass down, looking satisfied with Grandma’s departure.
Grandpa Glasgow reached for the wine and poured himself a generous glass. “I’m gonna need it if I’m to survive the night.”
“And that’s the reason I’m never getting married,” Athena muttered. “Misery has a new name:marriage.”
I let out a small breath. “Or it could be life in general.”
“You girls are too young to be so jaded,” Papà remarked, drawing shocked glances from everyone. So far he’d mainly ignored our friends. Though in his defense, he didn’t know them well.
“Um, Papà, this might be a good time to re-introduce you to our friends,” I started, worried he might have forgotten their names. They hadn’t run into him since that first day with the snake. It probably helped that we stuck to the side of the house that he avoided. “Isla, Raven, and Athena attend the same college. Isla went to boarding school with Phoenix and me.”
He nodded. “I remember.”
“You do?” Phoenix’s expression clearly stated that she found that hard to believe.
“You three shared a dorm room,” he remarked dryly. “How could I forget?”
“That’s some good memory, Mr. Romero,” Isla commended, while Phoenix and I rolled our eyes.
“Okay, a test, then?” I challenged, sharing a smug look with my sister.
“You’re in trouble now, Tomaso,” Grandpa Glasgow teased. “Better run before they work you up.”
Papà leaned back into his seat, getting comfortable, and for a moment, he reminded me of the man he used to be. Before Mamma died. Before we left him to live with Grandma.
“Bring it on, girls,” he said and signed at the same time.
“Isla’s last name,” I questioned.
