“Maybe someday I’ll get to see that side of her,” she said. “For now, don’t let it get to you this much. It’s just dinner, right? You never know. She might even surprise you.”
“I seriously doubt it.” Not after the way she’d reacted when she’d found out Addy was American. “But you’re right. It’s only dinner. How bad can the next few hours really be?”
“That’s the spirit.” I heard the smile in her voice, but my eyes were suddenly fixed on my mother’s house. Outside of her front door was a figure dressed in the same inky colors I was, and she wasn’t happy.
Even from this distance, I could tell Mom was upset. It was there in the hunch of her shoulders and the rigidity of her spine. When we got closer, I saw the scowl on her face.
Yeah. The next few hours could get really, really bad.
The protective urge I’d always felt toward my mother warred with the knowledge that what was about to happen was on her. On the one hand, I wanted to leap out of the car and tear the city to pieces until I’d destroyed what had upset her, and on the other, I just wanted to take her by those hunched shoulders and tell her to snap out of it.
My stomach dropped as I parked, and my eyes connected with hers through the window. There was a storm swirling in those black depths, and it was headed right toward Addy.
Chapter 26
Addy
Oh holy mother of—well, Marco.
The calm and even excited facade I’d managed to hold on to came crumbling down when the car slowed and eased into a narrow parking space.
An older woman, who I assumed was his mom, was waiting for us outside. Her gaze zeroed in on the car, and a chill ran down my spine.
For an older and surprisingly frail-looking woman, the expression she wore was formidable. I took the brief time I would have to survey her while Marco parked the car. There was no way I would risk getting caught staring at her once we got out.
Her small body was wrapped in black cloth, which seemed to have been the Ricci go-to for this dinner. Marco also rocked all black, leaving me to wonder about my bright purple maxi-dress. I’d chosen it because it was conservatively cut and Elena had said it made me look wholesome, but now I thought I should have gone with a more somber color.
Since it was too late to change, I decided not to obsess about it. Just because they’d dressed as if they were going to a funeral didn’t mean I had to. I opted for embracing the uniqueness of the color I’d chosen instead. I was going to stick out like a sore thumb in this family anyway. Wearing black wouldn’t have changed that.
Plus, I had it on good authority that this dress brought out my eyes. If eyes were the windows to the soul, I was practically daring this woman to peer into mine and see me for who I was.
I couldn’t say the same for her level of openness, though. Her expression was guarded and her jaw was so tight I worried she might crack a tooth.
She had the same arrow for a nose as her boys, and her dark eyebrows were knitted so closely together that they formed a single slash above her eyes. I couldn’t make out the exact color of them from here, but they seemed to be much darker than theirs.
With agility and grace I hadn’t expected from someone who was dressed as the Grim Reaper, she moved toward the car. Marco got out first, gave her a hug, during which I saw his lips moving, then pasted on a forced smile, and came around to open my door.
“Mama,” he said once he’d helped me out of the low-slung car. “This is Adaline Tidwell. Addy, my mother, Grace Ricci.”
“You can call me Mrs. Ricci,” the woman bit out. She made no move to shake my hand, hug me, or brush those European kisses to my cheeks.
Instead, her gaze dropped to look me over from head to toe. When it came back to mine, it seemed she’d already found me wanting.
I followed Marco’s example by forcing a smile and held up the dish in my hands. “Thank you for inviting me tonight, Mrs. Ricci. It’s an honor to have the opportunity to dine with you and your family. I brought some lasagna. I hope that’s okay.”
She expelled a sigh through her nostrils. “It’s fine. I suppose you should come inside.”
Yanking the food out of my outstretched hands, she spun on her heels and marched into the house. She hadn’t thanked me for bringing it, but I didn’t take offense. I had known this was going to be a challenge, and I was determined to do my utmost best to rise to it.
The house looked very much the same as the others on the street from the outside. On the inside, it was clear that it was a family home and that they’d been there for a long time.
Every surface was cluttered, the walls were heavy with framed photographs, and the furniture was worn. It smelled like spice and cookies with an undertone that was a little musty.
I would never tell Marco, but I was surprised as hell to see where he had grown up. It was one thing knowing that he was a self-made man and another entirely to see where he had made himself from.
His large hand rested on the small of my back, and he guided me farther into the house. When we entered
