Page 68 of Rosetti Family New York
She’s fierce. Tiny. And bossy. The house isn’t large, and she fills it with her voice, with her lipstick and her pearls and the smell of her baking. There’s a storm of graying curls above her head. Her bright eyes flash around the table, and she mutters in Italian. We’re all trying to keep up, everyone talking, shouting, laughing. She shoves a plate of sausage in front of me and winks.
“You got him trained yet?” Carmela giggles as the dog buries itself in my lap.
“Leo or the puppy?” I say, ruffling its floppy ears.
“Both, hon.”
Juliet’s warm, hazel eyes sparkle. I don’t know how I got used to seeing her this way—happy, laughing, herself. She helps me keep the animal in check as it squirms all over the place, licking syrup from our plates. “Have you decided on a name?”
Leo shrugs. “We’re calling him Paz. For Vinny Pazienza.”
“The boxer?” Rafe says. “Isn’t that a little—”
“What?” Leo says. “Violent?”
I expect the room to go silent, but it doesn’t. The laughter is good-natured, and I don’t feel like an outsider. Not anymore.
“We can always change it,” I say.
Leo shakes his head. “Hell no. It’s a good name.”
Nanna Toni turns from the counter, finally sipping on a cup of coffee. “Good dog, bad fighter. Sounds just like you, Leonardo.”
The room explodes. I grin at Leo, and he glares at them, scowling like a little boy. “Assholes,” he mutters, but he’s laughing too.
“Then you fit right in,” I say. Leonardo catches my eye and smiles. I’m shocked at how warm I feel. At how easily this family has become my own.
Everyone’s talking and eating and calling each other names. Rafe and Matteo take turns teasing Leo, and Carmela gives them hell for it. Sal sits at the head of the table, smug and satisfied, like he’s orchestrated the whole damn thing.
“Eat, eat!” Nanna Toni shouts, and the noise swells around us. She downs her second cup of coffee before I finish a pancake. “What are you all looking at?” She pours herself more and sits. The table shakes as she cuts her waffles, half a stick of butter on each. “It’s no good cold. Go on!”
“We’ll never finish it,” I say, eyes wide as Carmela pour orange juice into my glass.
“Better than you getting too skinny and Leo leaving you,” she says.
Everyone laughs again. Even Rafe smothers a grin behind his napkin.
My sides hurt from laughing, from trying to keep up. The old woman talks and eats at twice my pace, giving orders and demanding answers.
Juliet leans over, and I can see the mischief in her eyes. “Better than dinner with father, isn’t it?”
I shiver dramatically. “There are no accountants,” I say. “No business partners.”
“No cold silences.” She looks at me, smiling.
It’s not just me. Juliet has slotted into this family too, finding her place helping Sal and Leonardo assess the quality of rocks. Nobody has a finer eye for cut, color and clarity than my sister. “You keeping busy?”
“For now.” She gives a soft smile. “You know it’s not what I want.”
“What’s that?” Nanna Toni interrupts. “I better hear no secrets at my table.”
Juliet looks at her, playful and defiant. “I was just telling my sister I won’t be staying here forever. I’m going to travel the world, see the sights.”
Nanna Toni squints and wrinkles her nose. “You going to Sicily, you tell Anna and Carmine to give you the bed by the window. Tell Lucia her kids need a smack and a better father. Tell Franco and Tiziana they better write before they’re dead, the ungrateful brats.”
My sister laughs, catching my hand under the table. “That’s an awful lot of telling,” she says. “And I’m only thinking about going.”
“You will,” Nanna Toni says. She looks at me, then at Leo. “When is this boy buying Eleanor a place already?”
