Fighting for Us - Bella Emy Page 0,24

it’s chicken cutlets, potatoes, and stuffed and roasted red peppers.

All I can say is that Sunday dinners at my parents’ house are the best. Mom always makes sure we don’t ever run out of food. I leave here ten pounds heavier than I was when I arrived.

“Ooh, Ma. Let me help,” Marianna says, rising from her seat. She picks up empty dishes from the table to make room for the second part of dinner. The first dish is always some type of pasta. The second part is usually a type of meat, followed by whatever side dishes Mom decides to make. Her stuffed and roasted red peppers are to die for.

Marianna walks to Gianna, whose plate is now completely polished. Like I said, she never leaves food behind when my mother cooks.

“Good girl!” Marianna leans down and kisses the top of Gianna’s head. She takes her plate away and continues clearing the first round of dishes.

As soon as Marianna has swiped our finished plates from the table, Mom places new ones onto the middle of it. “Here we are.”

Max is first to fork a cutlet and place it onto his plate.

I shake my head but don’t make a comment. Unfortunately, my brother never did know how to let things go when it came to messing with me. You would think he would be wiser than to pick on me, since I am larger than him, but as kids, we wrestled all the time because of his mouth. I only let him win once, when I felt bad for him. His bike got stolen by some of the neighborhood kids. It was a sweet bike, one he had been wanting for months before my parents gave in and bought it for him for his birthday. While he was sad about it all day long, it didn’t stop him from starting a name-calling competition with me. I can’t remember what it was over, but most likely, it was what to watch on TV or whose turn it was to take out the trash.

As we were messing around one night after dinner, picking on one another, I let him believe I wasn’t able to win a match of arm wrestling. He was none the wiser, and I left it alone. It doesn’t need to be said that I got his bike back from those kids. It was the last time they ever messed with my brother.

Max, noticing I’m purposely watching him, places his fork down. “I am the middle child. Because of this, I get first dibs on Ma’s food.”

“That makes absolutely no sense, Max,” Marianna states as she fills her glass with wine.

Max nods and smiles. “Enz knows what I mean.”

My eyebrows narrow. “Sorry, Max. I have no clue as to what you’re referring to. I have to agree with Marianna. That makes no sense whatsoever.”

He rolls his eyes and smirks. “Growing up, I always had to make sure I got what was deserved. The oldest gets this and the youngest gets that. What about the middle child?”

“Massimo, you and Marianna are twins. There is no middle child,” my dad states, never lifting his gaze from his dish.

I chuckle. “Dad told you. Now shut up and eat.”

“There was too a middle child, and it was me!” Max exclaims.

“Cool your shorts, Massimo. Eat,” Mom states.

At this point, Gianna, Marianna, and I are cracking up.

My brother, refusing to relent, looks at me and says, “Don’t worry, big bro. In a few more years, Mother Nature will be my payback.”

Furrowing my brows yet again, I ask through a chuckle, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Quickly realizing what I’ve said, I shoot Mom a look, who is now glaring at me. “Watch your language, mister.”

I shrug. “Sorry, Ma.”

Max speaks again and points at Gianna without grabbing her attention. “Big blue eyes, gorgeous long, flowing curls… She’s going to be a heartbreaker, for sure. All the little boys will be lined up outside your house, waiting to take her out.”

This realization has dawned on me many times, but I always quickly threw it out of my head. I know my little girl is going to have guys calling her, asking to go out with her, but it’s not something I’m looking forward to—and not something I think I will ever be ready for.

Gianna is my little girl, my princess. These little boys my brother is referring to better look the other way and keep it moving. Her daddy doesn’t play. I’m ready to kill the first