I’d tease him about suddenly turning into Eddie Haskell. “More importantly, I was pretty insufferable in my younger days. I teased Violet a little too harshly, and I’ll be honest with you, sir. I won’t repeat the things I said back then for fear of catching three or four rolling pins in the head, and then you’d rightfully start in on me. But never fear, Violet held her own and got me back time and time again.”
He smiles at me like the awful things we used to do each other were cutesy and flirty. To be clear, they weren’t. Not even a little bit. But it seems to be playing well to my family.
Papa hums while Nana smirks a little. “So, how did you end up here, then?”
“It seems that all those bad acts, and again, I am sorry,” he says, kissing my knuckles, “were an immature teenage me not being able to recognize that I was head over heels for Violet. And Friday night, seeing her and hearing what she said, it felt like everything just clicked into place and I had a second chance with her that I never even knew I wanted. Even before I drove Violet home that night, I knew I wanted to marry her . . . and by some miracle, she saw me the same way.”
Nana looks unconvinced as her suspicious eyes flick from Ross to me, but it’s Mom who speaks first. “Oh, Violet, why didn’t you tell us? I mean, for Colin to break it off so quickly after getting engaged—”
“I know, Mom,” I say, feeling Ross squeeze my hand. “I guess I was so shocked when Colin broke it off, and then when Ross and I saw each other and things . . . well, like he said, clicked so hard . . . everything’s been happening so fast, but I’m so happy. I’m sorry, Mom. I just didn’t know how to put it in words.”
“You could have told us,” Aunt Sofia scoffs, making me laugh. “What, girl?”
“Aunt Sofia, I tried to tell you guys today. Several times, in fact. But every time I tried to say something, you and Nana would start cursing at each other in Italian and invoking Susan Lucci. You know how hard it is to get a word in edgewise with you Italian women when you’re arguing over cooking?”
Papa laughs. “Eh, benvenuto nel mio mondo,” he says. “I’ve been trying to get a word in for over fifty years without much success.” He leans over and places a liver-spotted hand on Ross’s shoulder. “You will learn, son. Best to keep your mouth shut until it is time to say ‘Dinner is delicious.’ and ‘Thank you.’”
“Oh, hush, Papa,” Nana admonishes him, but she’s smiling. “I guess we did sort of talk over you the whole time, Violet.”
“Please,” Ross says in a voice dripping with sincerity, “I know this is sudden. And it might just be a little crazy on the surface. But Violet and I . . . just give us a chance?”
It’s just right, and Nana nods, getting up. “I’ll give you enough of a chance to eat some of my lasagna . . . provided Sofia didn’t ruin it with her salt.”
“Don’t make me say her name again. I swear I’ll do it . . .” But then she looks over at our new dinner guest and makes the decision to behave, for once. “Never mind,” Sofia says, following Nana into the kitchen.
As Nana plates the lasagna, the inquisition really starts. “So, Ross, what do you do?” Nana asks. “You have a good job?”
Ross grins, nodding. “Yes, ma’am. I’m an executive vice president at my family’s company.”
Nana nods, and while her voice remains pleasant, I see the glance she exchanges with Sofia. They might fight like a couple of drunken Marines and they may say absolutely vile things about each other . . . but they’ve been sisters for seventy years. They’re a unit. They’re family.
And more importantly, when they want to, they can unleash a torrent of questions that would break a Mafia boss on the stand. Frankly, the Supreme Court’s got nothing on my Nana and Aunt Sofia.
It’s not that they ever raise their voices or that they’re insulting or intimidating. It’s just that their questions are confusing, bouncing around from subject to subject seemingly randomly. But it’s not random, not at all. It’s calculated and strategic.
I’ve faced this from Nana alone, and it’s both comforting and confusing. You’re answering questions about