Page 156 of Rosetti Family New York
I can’t keep up, but I can’t stop smiling.
“Dom,” I call. He’s watching from the doorway, taking it all in like it’s his own private kingdom.
“Yes?”
“Get over here.”
I make room for him, though it’s tight. He slides in next to me, and Carmela claps her hands in triumph.
“Finally!” She passes him a giant plate. “We can eat!”
He nods to the chaos around us and leans in close, saying, “And you thought you wouldn’t be welcome.”
I fill my plate. Antipasto, roast pork, polenta, lasagna, potatoes. Everything delicious.
Beside me, Carmela fills my glass. “Is this your first Italian Christmas?”
“It’s my first Christmas,” I tell her.
Her eyes widen. She looks as if she doesn’t know whether to be excited or sorry for me.
Dom leans in to whisper. “She’s finally speechless.”
I chuckle. “She’ll get over it.”
The room explodes with laughter as Sal spills red wine on Leo’s head. Everyone is talking at once, trying to be heard over the clatter of plates and the sounds of a too-big family. It’s everything my world never was, and I can’t get enough of it.
Carmela never stops moving, never stops chattering. She tells stories between bites and fills my plate as often as she fills my ears. My only break is when Leo and Eleanor get in a loud, good-natured fight over who got each other the worst gift.
“We should open them now,” Eleanor teases.
“Yeah,” Leo says. “So we know who’s sleeping on the couch tonight.”
“I think I will.”
“No way.”
“I thought you liked couches,” Matteo says. “Or am I confusing that with rugs by the fire?”
“You told them about that?” Eleanor demands of her husband, blushing furiously.
Leo put an arm around Eleanor. “Of course not,” he says, but we all know he’s lying.
“Just the highlights,” Leo grins.
Eleanor whacks her husband’s chest, but she leans into him happily while the conversation flows.
It’s impossible to be afraid when there’s so much warmth. Impossible to feel like an outsider when Carmela keeps pulling me into her world. I get lost in the food, the stories, the noise.
This is what belonging feels like.
The meal stretches into dessert, then more presents, more madness. Everything seems to multiply. Every gift is too much, and every laugh is a reminder of what I’ve spent my life missing, but won’t have to anymore.
Domenico pulls me aside for a moment, and I take a deep breath. I can still hear them in the other room. Their voices carry, bright and wild, as if they’ll never stop.
“Hey.” He brushes his fingers along my cheek, feather-light.
“Hey.”
