Joe shrugged. “She’s not wr-wrong.”
Luca was still laughing. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“It smells good.”
Luca walked slowly beside them as they made their way through the staff portion of the restaurant and toward the grotto.
Franny ran their way, dodging a waiter.
Luca stared at her.
She blinked those big brown eyes of hers, and he shook his head. God help him when she asked him for a car.
She stopped in front of Joe. “Hi.”
“Dad, this is—”
“I know wh-who this is.” He smiled. “You’re Franny.”
Franny looked between father and daughter. “You look like Brooke.”
“I couldn’t de-deny her.”
“Dad!” Brooke’s voice held a warning. And if that wasn’t enough, she flicked him with a finger.
“Hey. Elder abuse.”
Luca swiped a hand over his face and down his jaw. This was going to be a very interesting night.
“C’mon. Everyone is waiting.” Franny walked ahead of them.
Brooke whispered something to her father that Luca couldn’t hear.
Luca glanced at her, mouthed It’s okay.
They stepped into the grotto and his mother moved in. “Mr. Turner. Finally, we meet you. I’m Mari D’Angelo. Mother of this clan.”
Joe smiled. Looked around the room. “A pl-pleasure. I don’t speak as well . . . as good.” Joe shook his head. “I had a stroke.”
Luca’s mother smiled. “We know. Take your time. We have all night. And many more, I’m sure.”
Joe moved the walker aside and used the backs of the chairs to walk beside Mari.
“Dad.”
“I’m fine.”
Luca moved next to Brooke, who watched her father like he’d watched Franny taking her first steps.
“He’s stubborn.”
“Hmmm. I know where you get it now.”
Brooke stopped. “Wait.”
“Kidding.”
“No, you’re not.”
Luca shrugged.
She flicked him with the same “elder abuse” she’d delivered to her father.
“My daughter, Chloe, and son Giovanni.”
Mari pulled out a chair. “Here. Sit next to me so we can talk.”
“Zio Gio e Zia Chloe,” Franny said.
“That’s Uncle Gio and Aunt Chloe, Dad. Franny practices her Italian at Sunday night dinners.”
Luca winked at his daughter. “We can make an exception tonight.”
“Okay.” Franny bounced into a chair opposite the one pulled out for Joe.
The entire grotto was cleared for their family dinner, not something they normally did, but considering the occasion, Luca and his mother agreed.
Brooke was tense, shoulders up to her ears, her attention hyperfocused on her father.
Luca’s mother made him comfortable and asked what he wanted to drink.
He went along with the wine on the table . . . all the while Brooke watched like a nervous mama.
“Cara, can you help me with the plates from the kitchen?”
“What?” Brooke looked at him. Then her dad. “Oh, okay.”
They walked out of the grotto together, and he stopped her once they were out of sight of the family.
“Breathe.”
She hesitated, then did what he said.
And again.
“It’s going to be okay. Whatever happens.” Luca leaned down and kissed her.
“This is killing you, isn’t it?” Chloe leaned over and whispered the question in Brooke’s ear.
They’d eaten dinner and all night her father had come dangerously close to saying all the wrong things.
“I’m dying.”
Luca chuckled beside her, hearing their conversation.
“He’s adorable.”
Brooke nudged Luca. “I told you.”
Both Gio and Mari were taking their time talking with Joe, realizing that it took him a while to respond and letting the conversation slow down.
Franny’s voice rose from the other end of the table. “If Papa and Brooke get married, you’ll be my nonno.”
“That’s right. A-as soon as y-your daddy makes an honest wo-wo—”
“Dad!” Brooke said in warning.
Mari grinned.
“Oh,” Joe said.
“I’m going to kill him,” Brooke said under her breath.
“I’m not Italian. You can call me G-Grandpa.”
Okay . . . some of the edges were wearing off of her.
Brooke nudged Luca. “Don’t let him get in your head.”
“About what?”
Chloe laughed.
Brooke rolled her eyes. “Seriously, the man’s been married four times. He rushes everything in his life. He has mentioned or implied marriage no less than four times tonight.”
Luca shrugged. “If I was having dinner with Francesca’s boyfriend, I’d do the same.”
Brooke looked at Chloe.
Chloe nodded. “Well said, brother.”
Her father pulled their attention. “Luca?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Show me where the bathroom is.”
Franny jumped up. “I can show you.”
Joe shook his head. “No. That was code for . . . I want to t-talk to your dad.”
Franny giggled.
Luca pushed his chair back.
Brooke did everything she could to sit still.
The two of them slowly made their way out of the grotto, and Gio started laughing. “Your dad is a riot.”
“Delightful,” Mari said.
They were amused, and she was stressed out.
Brooke reached for her wine.
Luca attempted not to hover as he and Joe slowly made their way toward the restaurant bathroom.
“I-I like you,” Joe admitted only a few feet from the grotto.
“The feeling is mutual.”
“The l-last guy was a real sh-shit.”
Luca smiled. “That worked to my advantage.”
Joe stopped walking, smiled up at him, and then continued the slow crawl to the restroom. “I know she . . . that Brooke thinks getting married is, is stupid. That’s my fault. And her mother’s. But she deserves a good . . .” He shook his head. “A real man to step up.”
They stopped in the hallway to the restrooms, and Luca turned to him. “Brooke told me you’re Catholic.”
Joe nodded once.
“So are we. Am I. If your daughter and I are on the long road, we’re doing it with my last name, not yours.”
Joe lifted his chin, his half smile reaching his eyes. “Glad we had this little ch-chat.”
Luca opened the door to the bathroom so Joe could walk in.
It took a while, but her father and Luca returned. Instead of sitting, her father smiled and looked around the room. “This has been . . . wonderful. But I need to get home.”
Brooke scooted her chair back.
“I’m driving,” Luca said beside her.
“I can . . .”
Luca shook his head. “We’ll take him together.”
She nodded while everyone stood.
Mari hugged her father. “Such a pleasure, Joe. You’ve raised a lovely daughter we love having with us.”
Joe shrugged. “I-I can’t take credit for that.”
Mari narrowed her eyes.
“I didn’t raise her.” Her dad looked over at Brooke. “I don’t know why she . . . why she puts up with me sometimes.”