The Rocchetti Queen - Bree Porter Page 0,74

girls. I don’t know why it had turned out that way, but it had.

“What are you and your grandfather going to do in Evanston?” he asked.

“Evanston mall is the only mall in Illinois that currently has a complete Oxford Dictionary,” she said casually, like we all knew what that was.

Alessandro nodded. “Ah.”

At our blank looks, she added, “It has every English word ever recorded in it.”

We all nodded.

“That sounds awesome, baby,” I said. “You might have to bring a wagon to carry it home.”

Caterina smiled slightly. “Yeah, maybe.”

“What about you, Mr Enzo?” I asked.

Enzo was currently trying to smush all his strawberry into his pancake. He grinned up at me, knowing he was breaking the rules by playing with his food. Did he care? No.

“I’m gonna eat pancakes,” he told me.

“Very good. Anything else?”

“Nope!” He licked his spoon.

“What about you, Pia?”

My daughter wasn’t listening. She had spotted Polpetto and her eyes had narrowed. “Petto!”

Alessandro looked over his shoulder, spotting the dog. “Leave him alone, Pia.”

“Puppy!” she shouted.

Like it was a code word, all the children straightened in their chairs.

“Can we get a dog?” Caterina asked.

“A cool one,” Dante added. “Like a mastiff.”

Enzo nodded. “One we can ride!”

“Puppy!” Pia finished.

“No more pets,” Alessandro warned. “If you want to play with a dog, you head on over to your great-grandmother’s house.”

That was usually what we did, just sent them off for a few hours with Nicoletta to play with the dogs. I didn’t think Alessandro noticed that it only made them want another pet more.

“Noo,” Enzo whined.

“Nonna Nicoletta doesn’t even know my name,” Dante said.

“Don’t be rude,” I told him. “She knows your name; she just doesn’t know your face.”

He cut me a smile, identical to Alessandro’s.

When breakfast was over, I relaxed at the table while Alessandro and the children put the dishes away. Caterina even bought me a coffee, trying very hard not to spill it.

I watched them as they worked, my entire heart separated into five individual souls. They giggled and fought, throwing soap and bubbles at each other. When Enzo got jam in Caterina’s hair, Alessandro shut the whole game down.

“You went too far and now no fun,” he told them, but his eyes gleamed.

I heard the front door open, then, “Hello?”

“In here, darling!”

Adriano Rocchetti came into the kitchen, his dark brown eyes bright. “Hi, Auntie Sophia.”

“Hi, Adriano. There is leftover pancake, if you want some.”

My daughter piped up, “Uh, no, there isn’t.” I turned to see Caterina with Enzo. Enzo had thrown the leftover pancakes into the bin like a frisbee.

I shot him a warning look, but said to Adriano, “You can have some fruit.”

“It’s okay, Auntie Sophia,” he said, shoving at his dark hair. “I already had breakfast.”

“Okay, then.”

“We’ll leave in a minute, Adriano,” Alessandro told him.

Adriano straightened. “Yes, sir.” To Pia, he said, “Aurelia is outside.”

“Relly!” Pia chirped.

Dante cringed.

Aurelia di Traglia was the first girl born into the di Traglia family, meaning she was betrothed to Dante. They were both so little and chubby-cheeked at the moment, but one day they would be wed. Aurelia was a bit too young to understand but Dante knew.

“You should go say hi, Dante,” I told him.

He did not look like he wanted to do that.

Not a few moments later, my father-in-law came striding into our house like it was his own. Raffaele walked by his side, dodging his father’s playful strikes.

“Where is my granddaughter?” Toto the Terrible called as he walked inside.

Caterina waved. “Hi, Nonna.”

“Ready to go and buy some big ass book?”

“Language,” Alessandro warned.

Toto winked at his granddaughter. To his son, he said, “Say hi to your brother and Sophia.”

Raffaele greeted us, and I offered him some fruit, which he politely declined.

Getting the boys out of the house proved difficult, but soon I was standing on the driveway, Pia and Enzo by my feet. Alessandro took the three older boys, while Toto carried Caterina on his shoulders across the street, listening to something she was telling him.

As he went to go, Alessandro gave me a deep kiss, ignoring the disgusted cries of our children.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too. Drive safe.”

He nodded, leaving me with a smile.

Our marriage had been good, powerful, for the past ten years. We were happy, still devoted to each other. How strange to think so after what I had expected when I was much younger and a newly-minted wife.

I spotted Beatrice on her lawn, her two children, Elisabetta and Stefano, chasing each other. Sergio waved at Alessandro as he passed, holding