to his car and then to my hair.
“Both beautiful classics.” Nonno kisses his fingertips and smiles proudly as he takes my small weekend bag and tosses it in the back seat.
“You washed it already, Nonno?” Santino asks, walking to the front of the vehicle to take it in.
Nonno scoffs. “You have lady friend…Cherry needs to look her best.”
Santino laughs and walks over to open the passenger side door for me. “He named her Cherry, in case you didn’t pick up on that. And he usually makes me wash her when I borrow it so he must really like you.”
I smirk over at Nonno. “Well, I am really charming.”
“Cherry one…Cherry two,” Nonno replies, pointing at the car, then to me before he slides into the driver’s seat.
I beam proudly. “I think I just got a nickname from your grandfather.”
“Just get in the car, Trouble,” Santino growls and tweaks my arse as I slip into the tiny back seat. He hands me his backpack to sit beside me and then folds himself into the front. I can’t help but marvel at how two tall Italian men can even fit in this little rig because I have to sit with my legs off to the side on top of our bags back here. This must be why Santino told me to pack light. Had I known I would be wedged into a cute tin can today, I maybe wouldn’t have chosen to wear a dress.
However, last time Santino’s family saw me, I was wearing ripped jeans and had spilled sauce all over my white top. Meeting them in an official girlfriend capacity today means I wanted to look nice, which also means Freya helped dress me this morning. She found a floaty little spaghetti strap maxi dress in the back of my wardrobe that I hadn’t worn in years. It’s cream and a bit girlie, but I styled it with an oversized flannel and brown hiking boots to be more comfortable.
The journey is quiet as I sit in the back and try to quell the anxiety needling my belly. Last time I saw Santino’s mother, we had a moment of frank honesty in front of everyone when I asked her about being a teen mother. I hope it didn’t leave a sour taste in her mouth about me, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m a curious person by nature, and when it comes to Santino, I want to know everything. He certainly knows everything about me. I’ve been more open with him than I have with most of my family. Hopefully this trip will deepen his trust in me, and we can schedule a little trip to Scotland next. My parents would be thrilled.
We pull into Bourton-on-the-Water, and I can’t help but gaze wide-eyed at how beautiful it is. It’s a quaint British village full of traditional stone houses that remind me of places we’d visit in the Highlands when I was wee. The village got its name because the entire town centres around a gently flowing river with several low arch-stoned bridges crossing in different places. Their high street runs parallel to the river and features several ornamental shops, restaurants, and artisan bakeries.
Nonno glances back at me. “Have you visited here before?”
“No, it’s beautiful, though,” I reply as he brakes for several ducks to cross the cobblestone street.
“Bourton-on-the-Water is the Venice of Cotswolds.” Nonno points at a bridge where someone is rowing beneath. “It will never come close to our beautiful Italy, but it’s home now.”
I notice Santino stiffen in front of me, so I reach forward to touch his shoulder. He turns his head to look at me, forcing a smile that doesn’t seem all that natural.
Moments later, we park in an alley beside a large brick building, and Santino holds my hand as we follow Nonno towards the street entrance of the deli. When Nonno rounds the corner out of sight, I pull Santino back and force him to look at me. “Are you alright?” I give his hand a hard squeeze.
“Of course,” he responds, frowning. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I peer up at him, trying to see through those dark, masked eyes of his. “You seem off.”
“Don’t be silly.” He pulls me close, wrapping his hands around my waist, offering me an easy smile. “I’m fine.”
My head tilts. “Are you nervous for me to meet your family?”
He huffs out a laugh. “You’ve already met my family.”
“I know, but not as your girlfriend.” Insecurity niggles in my belly. “Do they know