“Hmm, well! I think a taste test might be in order.”
The Benzinos welcomed us back with open arms, berating us vociferously for having stayed away so long. I made the mistake of mentioning that Sebastian had skipped breakfast and the little old nonna scolded him for five minutes solidly, rattling off her rebukes in quick-fire Italian while Sebastian wilted under her stern gaze – then she turned her attention to me, wagging her finger and telling me I was a bad wife for not feeding my man. I agreed with every word. If only she’d known.
Almost every item on the menu was soon delivered to our table and I couldn’t help smiling as Sebastian’s eyes bugged out at the vast quantity of food. But then I remembered the reason he was always so hungry, and my smile faded.
He ate everything in sight with the exception of one crostata that he insisted I have for myself.
“Oh wow, that was amazing!” he said, replete at last. “I’m going to get so fat when we go to Italy.”
“If you carry on eating like this you’ll be enormous long before we make it to Italy,” I laughed at him. “There’s nothing on the menu here that I can’t make.”
“You’re kidding? Wow, really? Jeez, I knew there was a reason I loved you!”
And he leaned forward to kiss me.
The little nonna clapped her hands together with feeling, then darted over and peppered me with questions, her quick, squirrel-brown eyes darting between us. I shook my head, more than a little embarrassed. She sighed heavily, pointed at her watch and shot off to serve some newly arrived customers, still shaking her head.
“Was that about what I think it was about?” said Sebastian, raising his eyebrows.
“How much did you pick up?” I asked, curious to know how good his Italian was getting – as well as avoiding answering the question.
“Something about babies and the time?”
“Well, yes,” I agreed, feeling flustered. “She wanted to know when we were going to start a family.” I tried to smile. “She was pointing out that time waits for no woman.”
He lifted my hand from the table and frowned as he stared at my wedding ring. “I’ll do whatever makes you happy, Caro. I reckon I could handle the idea of a couple of bambinos running around. We’d make a helluva better job of it than my folks, that’s for sure.”
I tried to smile but I didn’t want to dare let myself think that far ahead. What was the point? He was far too young to be talking like this. And when he was old enough…
The conversation was making me feel despondent so I thought quickly how to change it.
“What time are you working today?”
“Not till 4 PM,” he said, smiling again. “What would you like to do?”
“Not much,” I admitted.
“Do you want to go to our beach?”
My smile faded. “I don’t think that would be a good idea – I don’t want to get my feet wet or sand in my blister.” My words stalled, seeing the venomous look on his face.
He made a visible effort and reined in his rising temper.
“Maybe we could check out some of these rooms to rent that that you’ve seen advertised?”
“No, that’s okay, thanks. I’ll do that this afternoon while you’re working.”
He thought for a moment.
“There’s a jazz band playing down in the Gaslamp Quarter today. We could go listen if you like?”
“Jazz again!” I teased. “And here was me thinking you were devoted to opera.”
“I like both,” he said, looking a little sheepish.
I smiled at him. “Me, too.”
He stood up, stretching his tall frame and held out his hands to pull me up.