Loved him.
Every damn day I imagined how bleak my life would be if Edward hadn’t forced me to step out of my golden circle to review the little unknown restaurant in Brooklyn called Mangia. What would I be doing now? Probably sitting in Presley’s store, listening to him wax poetic about his beloved, Nate.
I know what I wouldn’t have.
I wouldn’t have Torre’s warm body snuggled next to me every night and wake up with the sweet taste of him on my lips, my body sore from lovemaking but still needing him…always aching for him. I wouldn’t have Sunday family dinners filled with wine and food and pretend arguments and laughter well into the night. I wouldn’t have a mother figure like Maureen who called me just to say hello and see how I was doing, ending each conversation with an “I love you, Frisco.” I wouldn’t have a home away from home in Bello and Mangia, where I could finally create the food I dreamed of and give in to my passion.
I wouldn’t have anything.
Torre was the person who understood every part of me, even when I made it hard to figure out the pieces of who I was.
We put the dough aside to rest and Tina decided she wanted to draw. I gazed longingly at the bar and my bottles of Campari, gin, and vermouth.
“Can I watch television?”
I turned on the set to something colorful and she sat, happily engrossed for half an hour.
“Okay, time to make the pasta.” She sprang up like a rabbit and ran to the kitchen. I picked her up and put her in her seat, where she rolled out the dough under my instruction.
I wondered if my parents regretted having me and if Torre ever thought about having children.
“Uncle Frisco, is this good?”
Tina tugged at my shirt, jerking me out of my thoughts. “Huh? Oh, let’s see.” Her attempt wasn’t bad, and with a few quick rolls of the pin, we had the dough ready for cutting. “Perfect. Let me get the machine, and then I’ll let you turn the wheel. How about that?”
“Yay, yes.” She bounced in her seat. “I’m having fun.”
My lips twitched. “I’m glad, polpetto.”
She scrunched up her face. “What’s that mean?”
I hefted the pasta machine onto a clean part of the island and tweaked her button nose. “It’s a term of endearment. It means you’re my special girl.”
A smile spread across her face. “I love you, Uncle Frisco. Can we make the pasta now?”
Stunned, for the first time I found myself at a loss for words and needed a moment to take a deep breath.
“Yes, let’s do that.” I cut the dough and showed her how to feed it into the machine, and soon we had long strands of linguine. “You want red sauce or butter?”
“Red. Please.”
Her big brown eyes gazed up at me with so much trust, I couldn’t help but pat her cheek. “You like coming to visit here?” I took out a pot, filled it with water, salted it, and set it to boil on my stovetop. The day before, I’d brought home some sauce from Bello and put a generous helping in a saucepan to heat. Fresh pasta would only take a minute or two to cook once the water boiled.
“Uh-huh. Can we make cookies too?”
It was now closing in on two hours since Torre had left me. Where the hell had he gone? And when would that doctor’s appointment be finished?
“When your Uncle Torre comes home.”
A key sounded in the lock as I put the pasta into the boiling water. Fresh-faced with cold, Torre walked inside.
“Hey, you two. How did it go?”
“Me ’n Uncle Frisco made the pasta.”
“Looks yummy, honey-bunny.” He sidled over to my side, but I ducked away. “Are you mad?”
“What took you so long? I thought you went out shopping, but you didn’t come back with anything.”
Torre leaned in for a kiss, and because I couldn’t resist the damn man, I met him halfway.
“Miss me?” he murmured against my mouth. I had to remember a child was present, because he smelled so good, all I wanted to do was drag him off to bed. Would there ever come a time when he didn’t make me weak?
“Yes. Tina wants to make cookies.” I tested a strand of linguine and finding it ready and the sauce warmed, took down a bowl and made her dish, adding some fresh-shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano. I set the food in front of Tina and gave her a fork. “Here you go, polpetto. Your Uncle Torre can handle the cookie-making.”
With a fork full of pasta lifted to her mouth, Tina’s lips began to quiver. “I wanna do it with you too.”
“Tina, honey. Uncle Frisco had you all afternoon.”
And that was the moment I knew my old life was gone for good, because I took one look into those melting brown eyes and said, “It’s okay. I don’t mind. What kind of cookies do you want to bake?”
“I wanna make Christmas cookies. Like Nonna makes. With sprinkles.”
“We have the stuff for that.” Torre jumped in, possibly thinking I’d object. “I’ll get the ingredients together so when you finish lunch, we can bake them.” He smiled at me, mouthed Thank you, and began to busy himself with taking everything out of the cabinets.
I watched him measure the flour and sugar and chat with his niece at the same time, telling her a funny story. Little girl giggles burst out in the kitchen. He caught my eye and gave me a swift wink, then began to put the cookie batter together as she cleaned her plate of her pasta.
“I’ll be right back.” I didn’t wait for a reply and took the stairs to the loft two at a time.
About a week ago, after we’d shopped for all the decorations, Torre continued on home, but I stopped by Press’s store. Both restaurants had been insanely busy for the holiday season, and I hadn’t had a chance to sit down with him to talk. It was while wandering around, waiting for him to finish with a customer, that I spotted something I knew would be perfect, and I almost purchased it, but I lost my nerve.
Now I wanted it, but I had to call Press, and I knew he would give me shit.
None of that mattered. I had to have it.
I entered the bathroom, closed the door, and hit the speed dial for him. It took less than two rings for him to answer.
“What’s going on?”
“Not much. Torre’s niece is here, so we’ve, or should I say, I’ve been entertaining her, since he disappeared on me for hours.”
“Poor baby. And you survived.”
“It wasn’t so bad. She’s a good girl. We had a nice time.”
“Hello? Is this Frisco? Or are you an alien who invaded my best friend’s body?” He snickered.
“Oh, shut up.” From downstairs I heard Torre and Tina laughing. I don’t think I’d ever heard laughter in my home when I was growing up. “We made pasta together and…she said she loved me.”
I heard a little sniffling sound and had to smile. I knew that would get to a softie like Press. Surprisingly, my lashes dampened as well.
“That’s incredible. They’re such a wonderful family. Everything you deserve. Torre is one of the best men I’ve ever met.”
“He’s the best. That’s why I’m still afraid one day he’ll wake up and wonder why he’s with me.”
“You’re kidding me.”