Page 137 of Love Me Stalk Me
“Don’t need to,” Luca says. “Izzy dated him. That’s enough. She has terrible taste.”
“I could take him,” Nico announces, flexing dramatically. “One punch, down goes Evan.”
“Oh myGod,” I groan, rubbing my temples. “No one is beating Evan up.”
“Don’t take our Lord’s name in vain,” Luca all but shouts, clearly trying to attract the attention of our mother.
Nico leans back in his chair, casually sipping his wine. "I agree, Izzy. Taking our Lord’s name in vain is against the Ten Commandments. Decking Evan, though? Totally allowed." He shrugs. "Still, I was thinking something a little more refined—mild intimidation, a few well-placed threats, maybe a touch of psychological warfare."
Luca nods. "Or we could just key his car."
I gasp. "No one is keying anything!"
Nonna, who’s been silently observing with hawk-like eyes, suddenly leans forward.
“Isabella,” she begins in Italian, voice thick with emphasis, “perché stai ancora con quel ragazzo? Non ti ha ancora chiestodi sposarlo?”
I groan internally.
I stab my fork into my pasta, the tines scraping against the ceramic plate. “Nonna, it’s complicated. And no, he hasn’t asked me to marry him.”
She waves a hand like she’s swatting away a fly. “Complicato? Sciocchezze. Gli uomini sono semplici.”
“She says men are simple.”
“I know what she said, Luca.”
Nonna continues undeterred, turning to my mother and rattling off a rapid string of Italian. I catch enough to know she’s asking why Mama lets me waste time with “quel idiota.”
My mother sighs and responds in kind, something about me being too old to waste time on a man.
I press my water glass to my lips, trying to cool my face. “Mama, I’m not wasting my time. And Nonna, you don’t evenknowhim.”
She sniffs. “Non ho bisogno di conoscerlo.”
Nico leans over, all fake helpfulness. “She says she’s seen enough to know he probably tucks in his polo shirts and claps when the plane lands.”
“Stop mistranslating,” I snap.
“She didn’tnotsay that,” he mutters, shrugging.
Nonna points a perfectly manicured finger at me, her voice rising with conviction. “E ti tratta bene? Ti porta i fiori? Ti apre le porte? Ti guarda come se fossi la cosa più bella del mondo?”
I close my eyes briefly. Her questions are sharp as knives, aimed directly at the soft spots.
“Nonna—”
“Rispondimi, Isabella!”
I let out a breath. “He’s… fine.”
Luca scoffs. “Fine. Wow. That’s definitely what every girl dreams of saying about her boyfriend.”
Nico snickers. "I think I've seen Izzy talk about lasagna with more passion."
Just then, Lady Gaga darts under the table, her fur brushing against my bare legs. Tony follows, yapping excitedly, little paws scrambling across the floor. Dad whistles softly, but this time they ignore him, determined to cause chaos.
"Lorenzo!" Mama scolds. "I told you to control your dogs!"
