Page 209 of Love Me Stalk Me
Matteo cuts in smoothly. "Actually, Iz, that's perfect. Why don't you help Mama? Poor woman doesn't get nearly enough help these days."
“Wait, what?”
Nico claps a hand on Cal's shoulder. "We're just gonna borrow your boyfriend for a second."
I narrow my eyes. "Absolutely not." I don't even have time to clarify that he's not my boyfriend. Or, is he? I'm not even sure, but I definitely don't have time to figure that out right now.
Luca grins, grabbing Cal's other shoulder. "Oh, come on. He's gotta pass the test, right?"
Cal allows them to lead him toward the back door. "It'll be fine," he says to me with a wink.
"I don't like this!" I call after them.
"Noted!" Luca yells back, laughing as they disappear outside.
I turn, desperate for backup, but my dad just claps me on the shoulder.
"Don't worry, sweetheart." He sips his wine. "Boys will be boys."
I glare at him. Then I groan. And then I storm into the kitchen.
"Where'd the boys run off to?" Mama asks, shoving a pot holder into my hand before turning back to the pot of sauce—or "gravy" as she insists on calling it—simmering on the stove. Three other pots are bubbling away, and something in the oven smells like it's about to burn.
I glance out the window, squinting at the backyard.
"You really don't want to know."
"As long as they're not breaking my furniture."
I snort. "They're outside. Luca andNico kidnapped Cal."
Mama hums, stirring the sauce. "Mm. Hope he survives." She thrusts the wooden spoon toward me. "Here, taste."
I automatically do what every Italian child has been trained to do—take the wooden spoon, fling a dot of hot gravy into my palm, and lick it off. It's scalding, but years of practice have made me immune.
Before I can protest, Nonna’s already shuffling toward the back door, muttering something in Italian about "testing his worth" and "seeing if he knows his herbs."
Mama and I exchange a look, then trail after her.
Outside, the backyard has turned into an unofficial Roman coliseum. Cal is shirtless—because of course he is—playing a completely unhinged game of flag football with Nico and Luca. Only it’s less “flag” and more “blatant attempt at legal assault.”
Nico straight-up body checks him. Luca dives like he's trying to snap a rib. Cal just... laughs. He's bleeding slightly from the elbow, grass in his hair, and still grinning like he’s having the time of his life.
“C’mon, boys,” he calls out, breathing hard but tone still cocky. “Is that all you’ve got? Thought Italians were supposed to be passionate.”
Luca lunges at him again, and Cal spins out of the way. “You sure you’re not the backup dancers? 'Cause I’m not seeing anyactualdefense.”
Nico growls something in Italian that isn’t a compliment.
Cal winks. “Aw, did I hurt your little feelings, Nico? Don’t worry—I’ll still let you be the flower girl at the wedding.”
That earns him a full-body slam into the grass.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath. “He’s going to die.”
“He’s enjoying this,” Mama says, sipping her wine like this is normal.
I cross my arms, shaking my head. "Seriously?" I call out.
