Page 111 of What About Love

“She knows I’m joking, Ma.” He looked at his step-dad and lifted his chin in greeting. “Hank. Didn’t mean to leave you out of the greetings. My only excuse is the sauce was calling to me. You know how it is.”

“I do, son. I married your mother for her sauce.”

Sophia cast them both an exasperated look. “Stop it, you two. I’m trying to make a good impression on the girl and you're making us seem coarse.”

“It’s fine, really, Sophia,” Angie assured. “I work with T, and the Rossi men cut up and tease constantly, as does my family. It makes me feel right at home, honestly.”

A buzzer sounded. “That’s the bread. We’re ready to eat.” Sophia shooed them toward the dining room as she opened the oven and the heavenly aroma of garlic and browned bread wafted out.

The evening was very enjoyable. The food was delicious, the conversation lively, Sophia was charming, and Hank was a hoot. His hand was clear in his raising of T because he had certainly instilled his sense of humor in him. T was relaxed and affectionate with her, which never seemed to pass Sophia’s notice. Following dinner, they retired to the wide front porch that ran the length of the house for coffee and dessert, Sophia’s mint chocolate chip cannolis.

The older couple took two of the wicker rockers, while T guided Angie to the porch swing. There, they gorged themselves on the sweet cream pastries before settling back to sip theirPerfetto, a dark Italian coffee blend with a hint of caramel. With his long arm resting along the back of the swing, T pushed them gently with his foot.

“This has been nice,” his mother murmured, her eyes cutting to her only child. “We should do it more often.”

It was a not-so-subtle hint that T let slide. He deftly turned the conversation to other things. After an hour of easy conversation, they said their goodbyes. T engulfed his mother in his arms for an affectionate squeeze while kissing her cheek. When he released her, Sophia surprised Angie by pulling her in for a motherly hug.

She waved them off from the porch steps, beaming brighter than the full moon when T took her hand. Hank slipped his arm around her shoulders and said in a whisper that carried, “Don’t print the wedding invites just yet, sweetheart.”

Walking her to her car, T sighed. “Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize for your parents. I like them. I mean Hank and your mom.”

“You can call Hank that, I do. He raised me since before I started school.”

“I’m glad you had him after your dad died. Raising you alone would have been hard on your mother.” With keys in her hand, she leaned back against her car door, wondering what came next.

He didn’t make her wonder for long. “Your bed or mine, darlin’? Your choice. But either way, you’re sleeping in my arms tonight.”

She had no problem with that. “I’d like to see where you live.”

“Good choice. My back will thank you in the morning, short stuff.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and lowered his face for a brief kiss. “Follow close. We have to head farther out of town to get to the farmhouse.”

It took about twenty minutes down several dusty back roads until they pulled onto a winding tree-lined paved drive. At the end, when she climbed out of the car, she stood in the open doorway, staring at the white stone and brick two-story Cape Cod-style house with three steeply pitched dormered windows on the upper floor.

“This is your idea of a farmhouse?” she asked when T approached.

Glancing over his shoulder, he turned, walking backward the last few steps until he came up alongside her and stared up at it, too. “It was Gram’s idea sparked by a trip to New England a few years back. She fell in love with the style and did some renovation. Structurally, it’s the same house built back in 1927, although you can’t tell from the outside.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Let me show you inside.”

Without waiting for an answer, he slung his arm around her shoulders and walked her to the front door. The house had a wide porch like his parents did, a swing conspicuously absent. Inside was as modern as the outside with gleaming hardwood floors, neutral colors, and tasteful décor. The living room had an impressive wall of brick that made up the fireplace.

“That’s the original brick, restored. They updated almost everything: wiring, plumbing, and all the flooring is new. I’m glad they kept the high ceilings and wide doorways while they brought everything else up to code.”

He led her through the open-floor-plan lower level to the back of the house and a set of double doors. These led out to a huge stone patio shaded by tall trees with several benches scattered about. He took a left, pulled her through the kitchen, and out an arched doorway that led to another flight of stairs.

“I’ll give you the full tour tomorrow. Tonight, I want to show you the master’s suite.”

Her steps slowed but his didn’t and she had to hurry to keep up. “What was that?”

“My bedroom.”

“Oh. The way you said that I thought...”

“Nope, my home dungeon is in the basement.”

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