than her daughter’s. She pushes the step stool away from the stove and grabs the thick wooden stick inside one of the giant pots of tomatoes. “You stir. You no need step. You big.” She holds her hand up above her head, indicating tall, so I nod in agreement. “You stir, and little by little, tomatoes break, and then you add more tomatoes.” She points at the tomatoes in the strainer on the counter. “These clean. Santino cut them, and they are ready. You wait until this boil before you add. Keep stirring. Stirring makes good.”
“Angela, go out and pick some basil,” Carlotta calls out to the living room. Angela sighs heavily before heaving herself off the sofa and walking out to the balcony where apparently Santino has plants? I feel like I’m in the middle of some elaborate prank, and any minute now, they’re going to all start laughing at me.
Nonna points at the pantry cupboard. “When these jars all full of sauce, it looks nice in there. Full. That makes me happy,” she says without cracking a smile. “You learn quick with me. I’m a good teacher.” She grabs my hand and stirs more aggressively. “You must stir a lot or it sticks on bottom. Gira, gira, gira.”
She leaves me to a job that I do not feel at all qualified for. What happens if the tomatoes stick to the bottom? Will it ruin the whole batch? When do I need to add more tomatoes? Do I have to do anything with that basil?
“Gira means stir,” Santino’s warm breath whispers against my neck as he appears out of nowhere behind me.
“I figured that one out,” I huff back, waffling between amused and nervous because Santino’s proximity has sent flutters in places I should not be feeling flutters right now. “Am I doing this right?”
Santino moves to lean on the counter next to me, watching me for a long moment. “You need to use more chest.”
“What?” I frown up at him, trying not to get mesmerised by his disheveled appearance that I’ve quickly realised is my favourite look on him. His dress shirt sleeves are rolled up, revealing his muscular forearms that I noticed when we had coffee the other morning. His dark hair is soft and wavy off to the side, and his eyes are practically glittering with mirth.
“Your chest swivels, and your stirring matches it.” He holds his hands up, pretending to hold a wooden stick to demonstrate.
I attempt the motion myself and feel ridiculous. “You’ve got to be taking the piss.” I narrow my challenging eyes at him.
The corners of his mouth turn down as his shoulders shake with laughter. “God, yes, but it was worth it to see you attempt that.”
“I’m being serious, though. Do you actually know what you’re doing with this? I am not a cook. I’ve somehow survived my entire adult life on takeaway.”
“You can’t come from an Italian family and not know your way around the kitchen. They disown you for that.” He crosses his arms over his chest and eyes me thoughtfully. “Sorry, but I’m still trying to comprehend the fact that you’re here…in my flat…in front of my stove, making sauce with my family.”
“I’m trying to comprehend the fact that you have a basil plant out there.” I gesture towards the balcony. “This really is your flat, right? Does your mum live here, too?”
“I’m a grown man, Tilly. No, I do not live with my mother.” He laughs and shakes his head. “I have a parsley plant out there too if you’re truly that fascinated by green things.”
“God, this is strange.” I bite my lip nervously and glance down at my torn jeans and white tee. I’d have certainly worn something a bit more respectable had I known I was meeting Santino’s family. I turn my focus back to my task and drag the wooden stick along the bottom of the pot. “I can make up some excuse to leave. I just couldn’t think fast enough when your mum grabbed me. This is most definitely not what I intended today.”
Santino’s eyes move up and down my body with a heated look in his expression that I really don’t want to notice right now. “What did you intend exactly?” He hits me with a direct gaze that feels as though he can read all the inappropriate thoughts I’ve been having about him the past few days.
I peer over my shoulder to see his family all working around the table and