The Woman at the Docks - Jessica Gadziala Page 0,85

around my age, possibly—due to the resemblance, likely Lucky's sisters with their long black hair tied up, big hoops on their ears.

"Ey yo, Ma," Lucky called, making me pull back, a part of me wishing to retreat back to the front of the house, back to Luca.

But Lucky's arm tightened around my shoulders.

And the women were all already turning, seemingly confused by the masculine interruption.

"Now, is that any way to speak to your mother?" the woman at the stove asked, turning, a giant wooden spoon in her hand that she placed on her hip.

Adrian was an average-sized woman dressed in tan slacks and a somewhat loud floral button-up blouse. Her graying hair was pulled back away from her oval face. She was pretty in a soft, understated way, with bright brown eyes and perfectly applied makeup, even after standing over a hot pot.

"Who is this? Did you bring one of your flings into my house?" she asked, waving the spoon at me. "She's pretty, but you know the rules, Luck. Serious girls only."

"She is pretty, isn't she? But she's not mine," he said, wiggling my shoulders. "This gorgeous thing here belongs to Luca."

"Luca?" Adrian asked, beaming, slapping her spoon down on the counter, moving around the crowded island toward us. "Well that is a different story then."

"Why's that a different story?"

"Because Luca would never bring a temporary girl to my house. You? You, on the other hand, don't know the meaning of serious when it comes to women."

"Well, she's got me there," Lucky agreed, dropping his arm, taking a step away.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Getting you that drink. Ma, this is Romina. Romy. And Romy, this is my Ma. Adrian."

With that, he was out the door, leaving me with the women.

"What do you have there?" Adrian asked, motioning toward the bowl in my hands.

"Asada Negro," I told her, letting her take it from my hands. "Shredded beef slow cooked with spices and carrots," I explained.

"Sounds delicious. I'm so happy you cook!" she added, giving my forearm a squeeze after putting my dish down. "It is so nice to meet you. How is your arm?" she asked, making it clear that everyone in this family likely knew every last detail about that night.

"Oh, it's fine. The stitches are out and everything."

"Luca deserves someone like you in his life, someone strong," she clarified, likely having heard about me pitching a fit at the hospital, single-handedly ready to take on the New Jersey mob in my mission to check in on Luca. "And who can cook for him."

"We ate a lot of the freezer meals you made for him before I got to the store to get supplies for cooking. They were delicious."

"They're better fresh," she said, beaming. "You will see tonight."

"Can I help with anything?" I asked, moving into the chaos of cooking.

"Sure, sure. We can always use an extra hand. Maybe Mel over there can show you how to roll the antipasto," she suggested, shooing me toward a woman who had to be her daughter.

"Hey Ma," another male voice called, making me look up to see another of Adrian's children standing in the doorway. He was tall and thin with dark hair and a handsome face, a younger version of Lucky.

"I am very popular today," Adrian said. "Yes, Milo?"

"I set the table," Milo declared.

"And you came in here for praise?" she asked, brows raising. "For doing what you are supposed to do?" she added, making Milo look a bit sheepish. "I'm raising men, not little boys who need their backs stroked and told 'Good boy' for doing what they are supposed to do in life. Now go. Go. Out of my kitchen. It's hot enough in here already," she added. Milo, chastened, went to walk past to head out the back door which I imagined led onto the deck. Adrian grabbed him, framing his face with her hands, kissing his cheek three times. "You're a good boy, Milo. Now get out," she shooed, him, slapping his cheek gently once before turning away, telling one of the other women that she was using too much garlic in the pasta sauce.

That evening, I learned to roll antipasto. And the proper cooking time for various types of noodles. And how to layer lasagna.

"This is a sausage lasagna," Adrian explained. "Luca's favorite," she added. "He loves the chopped meat one too, of course, but this is his favorite."

"That's good to know. He seems to enjoy what I make, but I would like to know