Page 190 of Love Me Stalk Me
"I would like to keep this relationship alive. I would like to keep this man alive. My brothers meeting him is a direct threat to both of those things."
Amanda snickers, taking another gulp of her wine, her lipstick leaving a perfect imprint on the crystal rim. "I dunno. He's a big dude. I think he could take them."
I snort, shaking my head at the mental image of Cal squaring off against my brothers. "Physically? Probably. But my family doesn't attack physically, Amanda. They attack psychologically."
Amanda squints, her brow furrowing as she processes this information through her wine-induced haze.
"They're like... the Mafia, but with guilt instead of weapons. They don't break kneecaps; they break spirits. They don't shoot you; they just make you wish they had."
She points at me, her finger slightly unsteady. "That's the most Catholic thing I've ever heard in my life."
I laugh, rolling my eyes at her assessment. "You're not wrong."
And yet...
As much as I know throwing Cal into that lion's den is a questionable decision at best—there's a small part of me that wonders if she's right.
My brothers are my family.
For all their faults, all their overprotectiveness, all their judgment, they're mine. And their opinion matters, even when I pretend they don’t. Even when I roll my eyes and act like I don't care what they think.
And tomorrow is technically Easter.
It would be... nice. To have someone there with me, someone in my corner, someone who might understand why I tense up around my family even though I love them. Someone who might see me differentlythan they do.
Even if he doesn't come to Catholic mass at the crack of dawn—which, honestly, I wouldn't even wish on my worst enemy, let alone someone I actually like—he could still come to dinner. Could still meet them, still be part of this aspect of my life.
“Are you coming to dinner tomorrow?” From time to time Amanda invites herself to Sunday dinner. She claims it’s because being around the chaos that is my family makes herself feel better about her own level of insanity. But, in reality, I know she likes being around a big, over-the-top family. And my family, while insane, always has more than enough love to spread around. They often call Amanda their extra daughter.
“Absolutely not,” she shoots back. “My own monthly dinner is Wednesday, and that’s too much whiplash for one week.”
“Your family dinners can’t be that bad,” I say. “Your parents seem like perfectly normal people.”
Amanda barks out a laugh. “Normal? Baby, they’re uptight. We sit at the table like we’re in a Victorian séance. No one talks above a whisper. The wine is always room temperature, which is a crime, and someone inevitably mentions stocks.” She shudders. “Meanwhile, your family’s trying to feed me to death and Nico is offering me a ride on his Vespa like it’s the eighth deadly sin.”
I smirk. “You’re just mad he likes you.” “Denied.”
“I dunno,” I tease. “You two did go on a date.”
“That pity date was once, and I only went because I was bored and there was free pasta. The man still texts me memes like I’m gonna fall in love with him because he found the right SpongeBob GIF. As much as I would love to be your sister-in-law, as well as in spirit, it’s never going to happen. Besides, Raven is moving across town tomorrow. I promised I’d help her get settled.”
“Your sister?”
“The one and only.”
I’ve met Amanda’s sister once. The two have polar-opposite aesthetics. Whereas everything Amanda owns is pink and loud, Raven dresses mostly in black and has an attitude that could freeze time, space, and the will to live.
“It’s weird you two are related.” “One of us is probably adopted.”
I laugh, tilting my head back against the couch, considering the possibility of Cal meeting my family.
Amanda narrows her eyes, studying my face with surprising focus for someone who's had as much wine as she has. "I see the wheels turning. You'reactually thinking about it."
I huff, trying to sound dismissive. "I don't know. It's stupid."
"It's not stupid." She nudges me with her foot, her toenails painted a bright hot pink. I’ve never seen Amanda in anything but hot pink nails. "It's a good idea. You're serious about him, Iz. It makes sense to see how he fits into your world."
I chew on my lip, turning the idea over in my mind.
