Giacomo rushes up to her and she picks him up.
“I’m making lasagna. He’s upset because we can’t have cake for dinner,” she explains.
“He can have cake later,” Tristan says from behind me.
Turning to face him, I take note of the appreciation in his eyes and guess he must have heard what I said to Isabella.
“Papa,” Giacomo blurts, almost jumping out of Isabella’s arms.
She sets him down and I chuckle at the sight of his little legs as he rushes to Tristan as fast as he can.
Tristan picks him up and I look them over.It’s nice, all of it. I just can’t help but feel like I don’t much fit in.It’s not anybody’s fault but mine.That’s the thing about time moving forward.It just does, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.
Giacomo entertains us with his chatter about cake while I help Isabella with the food.
Very soon we’re all seated around the table where I somehow get talking about Tibet.
When we start eating dessert, Massimo’s phone rings.From the guarded look on his face and the way he excuses himself from the table, I know that call is business.
Like me, Tristan stops eating, and we wait for Massimo to come back.Emelia and Isabella both look worried, and exchange knowing glances, knowing that business is business.Both are married to the mob. They know when the phone rings at dinner time it’s serious.When Massimo comes back and looks from me to Tristan, we know it is.
“We have to go, now,” he states and we get up.He looks to Emelia who now looks panicked.“Stay here.”
She nods. “Be careful.”
Tristan kisses Isabella and Giacomo, then we head out.