Page 33 of Give Me a Chance
Turns out, the closest bar is a mangy, old place with a faded sign, a distinct smell of aged wood, and stale beer. The seating isworn, with cracked leather upholstery, but nothing can dampen our mood.
“To our clinic!” I toast with my beer, clinking her gin-tonic glass.
“To us.” Her dark eyes glow with happiness and my chest swells.
“I never thought having a job could be so rewarding.” I shake my head, making her chuckle.
“Yeah, well, we’re probably one of the lucky ones.”
“That we are. So, have any plans for the weekend?”
“Lunch at Nonna’s tomorrow and I’ll probably hang out with Eric on Sunday—take him to the park or something. So, big plans.”
“That boy is crazy about you.” I chuckle.
“Can you blame him?” She jokes, but no, I certainly can’t blame him.
“Damn, I wish my nephew is closer so I could hang out with him more.” She wants to know everything about Benji, so I show her the pictures.
“He’s adorable,” she coos, and I couldn’t agree more. “What’s he holding?”
“It’s his current favorite toy. A tissue box.” Her laughter fills the room. “You can joke all you want, but you take it away from him and he’ll make you regret it.” Wrinkles still surround her eyes from laughter as she listens to me ramble on about him. It’s so effortless, hanging out with her.
Well, my dick probably wouldn’t agree since he’s straining my pants to get to her, obviously not agreeing with the friend decision. But he’s not the one in charge.
I order another beer, but she decides on a Coke. By the time we’re leaving the bar to head home, we decide to take advantage of the sunny forecast for Sunday and call up the guys for a barbeque at my place. I do them from time to time, but Natalienever showed up. Now, she’s helping me organize it. Funny how things change.
“It was my idea. You have to let me help and bring some things,” she says, but I’m not having it.
“Nope, I’m the host, so I’ll be hosting.”
“Fine, but I’ll bring my mom’s salad. Well, I’ll make it, but it’s her recipe.”
“Deal.” Other than grilling, I’m not much of a cook.
This weekend just got a whole lot better.
17
NATALIE
“What do you need the recipe for?” My mom asks me in Nonna’s kitchen.
“I’m going to a barbeque at a friend’s house tomorrow.”
“Ooh, a friend, you say?” My nonna interrupts.
“Yes, a friend, Nonna.”
“Who is that friend, Natalia? When do we get to meet him?” As nonnas usually do, mine is constantly expecting I bring home a man that will make her some grandbabies.
“He’sjusta friend. Rina and Anne will also be there. And my favorite man—Eric, of course.”
“That boy is cute, but you should have one of your own.” Mom gives me a sympathetic look. At twenty-nine years old, I’m almost geriatric in Nonna’s eyes.
“Mamma, let her be. She’ll settle down when she feels like it.” I give mom a thankful smile, though she’s also expecting it at some point. Which I don’t plan to.
At least once a month, we meet up for family lunch. My sister is in college halfway across the country, but my brother and his husband live close by.
