As far as Moretti family dinners went, everyone was on their best behavior. Mostly. Sure, Elena checked her phone under the table, and Vincent was short on smiles, and his mom and grandma dropped a few too many hints about wishing Luca had a nice girl like you.
But all in all, it was as good as Luc could have expected.
And yet still, Ava was nervous. Not that she showed it outright. She was perfectly pleasant, smiling at all the right things, making all the appropriate small talk. But more than once he’d caught her fingernail sneaking up to her mouth where she nibbled it lightly before catching herself and taking a sip of wine.
It broke his heart a little. This confident, successful woman who was so clearly out of her element in a family setting. After meeting Miranda, he’d definitely suspected that they weren’t exactly one big, loving family, but seeing how uncomfortable Ava was around hugs and compliments and laughter confirmed it.
Luc sincerely hoped he never met the Sims family, because he’d be hard-pressed not to give them a piece of his mind.
Ava was sitting to his right and fidgeting so much that Luc longed to reach under the table and touch her…just to calm her. But he wasn’t sure that wouldn’t make her more jumpy.
There was a rare silent moment at the table as everyone devoured the food, and Ava jumped to fill it. “Mrs. Moretti, this roast is amazing. And the pasta—”
Nonna broke in. “You like this, you should come to my place for some good cooking. I don’t dry out my meat.”
Maria Moretti ignored her mother-in-law and smiled warmly at Ava. “I’m glad you like it, dear. And please, call me Maria.”
“Okay,” Ava said, her smile quick and shy. “I’d like that.”
His mom caught his eye and winked.
“Ava, you said you’re from Ohio?” Luc’s father asked.
“Oklahoma.”
“Okay no offense,” Vincent broke in, “but aren’t those like the same thing?”
Elena made no efforts at subtle as she kicked her brother under the table. “Seriously? Don’t be a douche bag.”
“Yeah, don’t be a douche bag,” Nonna chimed in.
“We all remember how we feel about name calling at my dinner table, yes?” Maria asked quietly, taking a sip of her water.
Elena gave her mother an exasperated look. “But—”
“So, Ava, you’re from Oklahoma,” Tony Moretti interrupted.
She smiled. “Yes. Darrington. And don’t feel bad if you’ve never heard of it. Most people haven’t.”
“Trust me, I don’t feel bad,” Vincent griped.
Elena tried to kick him again, but he dodged this time.
Tony quieted his squabbling offspring with a single look before he continued his talking. “So Darrington’s a small town?”
“Very,” Ava said.
“New York’s a big change. Did you come specifically for your career?”
Luc’s chewing slowed as he caught the too-casual note in his father’s voice. Warning bells went off in Luc’s head. He knew that tone. It meant his father was after something. And what Tony Moretti wanted, he usually got.
Ava seemed to sense the danger, because she set her fork aside. “Yes, I came for my professional development. New York is definitely the hub of broadcast journalism.”
“Hmm,” Tony said. “It’s the hub of a lot of things. Why this profession?”
“Dad, you’re making her sound like she chose prostitution,” Elena said, giving her father a scolding look.
Tony merely lifted a shoulder and took a bite of pasta, and Luc glared.
“You don’t like reporters, Mr. Moretti,” Ava said, picking up her fork and resuming eating. It wasn’t a question.
“Well now, I don’t know that I’d say that,” Tony said with a quick grin. “I’m just not convinced of their purpose.”
“Dad!” Elena said at the same time Maria exclaimed, “Tony!”