Or maybe I’m screwed.
But at least I’m being screwed by a real man for a change. Screwed long and hard and every which way but upside-down. Actually, we may have done an upside-down thing last night too. “Can I help with anything?” I blurt out before I start moaning Declan’s name in front of his mother and grandmother.
They’re in the middle of arguing about how much marinara sauce they’ll need, so my question goes ignored. But when Declan walks in, they both shut up and start grinning. Even his own flesh and blood are not immune to his handsome face.
I can tell immediately that his mood has changed, though.
“Ciao, bella,” he says to his nonna, kissing her on the cheek. “When do we eat? I’m starving. Why do my pants still fit me, huh? What a rip-off.”
“Ciao, bello,” she mumbles. “It’s time,” she announces, still scooping deep-fried calamari into a bowl. “Time for antipasti. Get back out there, uh! Andiamo andiamo!”
It’s not even four o’clock yet, but I guess it’ll take about three hours to eat all of this food.
Declan puts his arm around my shoulders without looking at me. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You ready?” Something tells me he isn’t asking me if I’m ready for dinner.
“As I’ll ever be.”
He pushes the swinging door open, and I walk out to the dining area. There are a bunch of people in the living room all of a sudden, but Declan goes straight to the table and takes a seat with his back to the living room. Hunched over, like a moody teenager. Like the Little Bummer Boy. With Dean Martin singing “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” and all the decorations around him, his gloominess is almost comical. He gestures for me to sit next to him, but when I notice the couple in the corner who are staring at me, I can’t move. That must be Brady and Hannah.
Hannah is a petite blonde who somehow looks stunning, elegant, and adorable in an oversized blouse and overalls with a Santa Mickey appliqued on the front pocket. I don’t know what I was expecting—a Disney witch or a Sophia Loren type—but I wasn’t expecting a midwestern Tinkerbell. She’s all glow-y and smiley. She’s the opposite of me, and I want to hate her, but I can’t. I can’t even hate Brady, who’s a lankier, artsier version of Declan. They’re both touching each other in that gentle, instinctive way that couples do when they’re in love.
I’m starving too, all of a sudden, and it’s not for antipasti.
It’s Eddie who finally introduces me to the people I haven’t met yet. Aiden must be the oldest—handsome and starting to go a little gray around the sideburns. He has a wife and two kids. Casey’s husband looks like a TV high school football coach. This family may be a little loud, but they look like the stock photo of a family that comes with a picture frame. When Eddie introduces me to Brady and Hannah, they look a little tense. Like they’re expecting me to tear them a new one or something.
“Merry Christmas” is all I say. “Congratulations.”
Hannah seems relieved, but Brady says, “Thank you. I’d congratulate you too, but you snagged yourself the worst brother.”
Hannah smacks him, somewhat playfully.
“Hey, I’ll take what I can get.”
“It’s really nice to meet you,” Hannah says, giving my arm a friendly little squeeze.
“All right! Everyone sit down!” Tony orders as Nonna carries a tureen out to the table. “This is not a drill! Kids—you’re eating in the family room. Stay out of trouble.”
“Come and get your dinner, love,” I sing into Declan’s ear as I take the seat beside him.
“Smartass,” he whispers into mine. He’s not happy, but at least he doesn’t look miserable anymore.
Casey makes a joke about Hannah’s wedding dress, and Hannah tells her she scheduled the final fitting for after Christmas for a reason. And then everyone looks at Declan, who’s frowning at the empty plate in front of him, and it’s really, really awkward. I want to give him a verbal spanking, but I also want to give him a hug. And I also want him to give me an actual spanking later, maybe.
Tony Cannavale rushes through grace. “Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive Thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord, Amen.” He barely waits for everyone else to say “Amen” before continuing, “And I just wanna say…” He smacks one hand down on the table, shaking the whole thing. “I’m just gonna say this once… This tension here, between certain someones, and the taking sides and the bickering and the angry awkward silence and the what have you. I will have none of it. Not tonight. No more. We’re all family here. All right? All of us. We celebrate love in this house. For everyone. That’s all I’m saying about it—everybody eat.”
“Mangia, mangia,” Nonna grumbles.
I place my hand on Declan’s thigh under the table, and his hand is immediately covering mine. He doesn’t look at anyone, but he’s touching me, and that’s enough.
Tony explains the menu to me, since I’m the only one who’s never been to Christmas Eve dinner here before. “Traditionally, Italians don’t eat meat on Christmas Eve, which is why all the fish—seven kinds of fish. But my mama makes her own rules, and she also makes three different kinds of meatballs in honor of my pops, who loved meatballs.” Tony and Nonna cross themselves without pausing their eating. “The meatballs are secondi. So leave room for them.”
“Hey, do we know how you and asshat met?” Casey asks me.
I swallow a calamari and then tell her, “Asshat convention.” Declan rubs my
