The tissue paper she’d used to keep the glasses from breaking was piling up on the island, and every time a gust of wind drifted in from the open doors, paper flew in all directions.
The guys strained under the weight of her dresser. “Where do you want this?” Gio asked.
“Bedroom.”
“Show us where.”
Emma jogged in front of them as they maneuvered around a corner and eventually into her bedroom.
She pointed to an empty wall. “There.”
They set the bulky furniture down and huffed out a breath.
Both of them stood there looking at her.
“That’s good, I think.” Emma glanced around. The primary bedroom was huge. Plenty of wall space for big items.
She found Gio staring.
“What are you waiting for?”
“For you to change your mind.”
“No. This is good.”
Gio and Dante shrugged and walked out.
Emma considered the traffic flow through the room to the massive doors leading out to the backyard.
When they returned, they both held two of the drawers that filled the empty slots in the dresser.
“You know . . . maybe this wall over here will be better.”
Gio grinned. “You sure?”
“Yeah. That way I won’t run into it on the way outside.” She walked the desired path as if they needed a demonstration.
Gio and Dante both lifted an end of the chest and huffed it to the new location.
Yeah . . . that was better.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes narrowed.
The guys walked out.
Now the room felt lopsided.
Back they came with more drawers. “Actually . . . this isn’t working. Can you move it back?”
Dante laughed, pointed at Gio. “You owe me a beer.”
“I’m sorry,” she told them.
“Don’t be.”
“It doesn’t really matter. In a few months all of this furniture will end up in one of the spare rooms.”
Gio walked by, kissed her. “It matters for the next few months, then.”
She walked out of the room before she could change her mind again. It was getting close to noon. Lucky for all of them, Gio’s mother had sent him with trays of food that only needed to be heated up.
Emma pulled the lid off one of the catering trays and marveled at the amount of food. “I hope your mom doesn’t expect us to eat all this,” Emma told Gio as he walked by again.
“Speak for yourself. I’m starving,” Dante said.
Following Mrs. D’Angelo’s instructions, Emma put the tray of pasta into the oven and set it to the right temperature. There was a container filled with freshly grated parmesan. The caprese salad was enough to feed ten people. There was bread and a bottle of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Another small tray had asparagus that looked like it had been seared and now rested in a garlic butter sauce.
Emma’s mouth watered.
It was Italy all over again.
Food like this deserved wine, so she found a bottle she liked and removed it from her wine fridge to open and let breathe.
While Gio and Dante continued to lug in every last box of belongings she owned, Emma set her small round dining room table that filled a breakfast nook area of the kitchen. A bigger dining room table was on the list of things to buy, but for now, this would do.
She found everything she needed, including wineglasses, before the oven timer went off.
“Lunch is ready?”
“Yes!” Dante dropped the box in his hands in the middle of the living room and moved to the sink.
Emma laughed.
“Slacker,” Gio called him out and walked down the hall with the box in his arms.
A few minutes later they were sitting around the table, filling their plates. “I appreciate you coming to help,” she told Dante.
He winked and shoved a piece of bread dipped in oil into his mouth.
“Everyone wanted to come,” Gio said.
“Like, the whole family.” Dante talked around the food in his mouth.
“They can’t wait to meet you. I thought we might hold off until you’re unpacked. Or for a time you can come to us.”
She felt nervous just thinking about it. “It will be a while before I’ll be set up to entertain here.”
Gio scoffed. “You don’t need anything fancy to entertain my family.”
“We’ll find two sawhorses from a shed with a piece of plywood to make a table, and boom, done.” Dante made it sound easy.
“Owning a restaurant that does the occasional catering means we come equipped with everything you need for a party.” Gio winked her way.
Twenty minutes later Emma placed a hand over her stomach and called it. “I can’t take another bite.”
“I saw you put away more food than that in Italy,” Gio teased.
“In Italy all we had to do was eat and drink. Any more and I’ll need to crawl into bed for a nap.”
Much as they all hated to get up from their break, Dante had a deadline to get back to San Diego.
It was just after three in the afternoon when Emma and Gio stood on the porch, waving goodbye to Dante.
He’d stayed long enough to move everything bulky and helped empty out a few boxes and then promised to return with a swimsuit and a cooler full of beer.
By seven in the evening every box had been unpacked and items distributed around the house. Gio had connected her television and moved her speakers around the room until it provided the sound he felt she needed.
Then, after several trips to the dumpster that sat on the far side of the house, close to the cellar, they both fell onto her sofa like deflated balloons after a party.
The house still felt empty, but they were done.
“I’m wrecked.”
“You’re a beautiful wreck,” Gio said, grasping her hand and putting it in his lap.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Yeah, you could have. It just would have taken you longer.” He kissed the back of her hand, put it back in his lap.
She stared at the blank walls and empty corners of the room. “I have so much to learn about being a homeowner.”
“Like what?”
“Maintenance stuff. What does a water heater need? Do I have to have that kind of thing serviced every year?”
“No, but your air filters need to be changed annually.”
She looked at him. “What are those?”
He smiled. “I’ll help you.”
“I should probably invest in some power tools. Things went faster today because you brought them. And a decent toolbox for the garage. I’ve never had my own garage.”
“Your garage makes me drool,” he admitted.
It was fit for three cars, with plenty of storage for all the things men put in garages.
“And what about the fountain outside? The sprinkler system? I was gone most of the day on Wednesday, and when I came home it looked like someone had been here to mow the lawn and clean up the leaves. Is my mother paying him? Does Raul see that things are picked up around the house? His job is the vines, not the house.”
Gio twisted around to look at her. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Jumping to the next thing and making it feel bigger than it is.”