My sight flickers between the two of them, and then I concentrate on the chicken dish that Lucca is patiently holding out for me.

“So, Amelia, why couldn’t you make it on time?” my mom asks.

Everyone at the table points their attention to me. You’d think someone was getting married, and I ran in after the bride reached the altar.

“I got hung up.”

I pass the dish to Todd, and he snickers.

“Who did you get hung up on?” Lucca jokes next to me.

My dad throws a roll at him and it bounces off his head.

“We don’t need your funny comments tonight,” my dad growls from across the table.

My dating life is a moot subject, even with me being twenty-seven. The first time I brought Todd home, the poor guy went through the third degree from my dad, even though he was just being my friend.

“Oh, come on. It’s funny, right?” Lucca holds his hands up.

My baby brother, Enzio, fist-bumps him.

I roll my eyes. “I just lost track of time. I was in the studio.” My head hangs down to my plate as I wait for the usual lecture.

“Camera.” My mom waves her hand in the air, the one movement speaking volumes at the table.

“Photography, Ma,” I remind her with a soft voice.

“What a waste,” she says while maneuvering two dishes in different directions.

My mom has never shied away from communicating her displeasure of my dream. When I spent my savings on my very first camera, she lectured me for two hours on responsibility and how undependable a career in photography would be. She doesn’t even know my artwork is in the form of nudes. I think she might pass out and disown me if I told her that.

“She’s good, Ma. You should see her work,” Marco, the oldest, speaks up.

I smile over to him.

“She really is talented, Mrs. Fiore. Have you seen her work?” Todd asks.

I bang my knee to his under the table. He’s still a newbie here, and I don’t want him to be kicked in his ass by Mom’s size eight.

“Dreams. It’s not about what you want to do. It’s about what you need to do. Do you think it was your father’s dream to work ten-hour shifts, six days a week, making fortune cookies?”

Her sarcastic comment receives no verbal rebuttal, but my dad’s eyes fixate on mine.

“Amelia, you need to find someone who will take care of you and make that photography dream a hobby.” She points her finger my way.

I concentrate on spinning pasta on my fork.

“Stop it, Bianca,” my grandma chimes in. “She’s young. Let her live her life how she wants.”

I smile at my grandma, and she matches it before occupying herself with eating. She’s never been an overly emotional person, and I’m surprised she was willing to go to bat for me.

The table remains quiet for all of five minutes. The only sound comes from forks scraping against plates. No one dares to bring up anything about their lives, fearing that my mom will offer unwelcome advice or pick it apart.

“Todd.” My grandma’s stern voice carries over the table.

Todd straightens against the back of his chair. “Yes, ma’am?” He places his fork down, wipes his mouth, and gives the elderly lady all his attention.

“Do you like the sauce?”

Everyone’s eyes turn to Todd.

His eyes widen in response. “Yes, very much.”

Isn’t he just the cutest?

“I added something special in it tonight.” She winks, and her mouth widens into a big smile. “Can you guess what it is?”

Todd grabs his spoon and scoops the sauce from his plate. He eats it, and his eyes ping from corner to corner. I can tell he’s trying to figure out the hidden ingredient.

“There’s basil, oregano . . .”

My grandma nods.

“Gram, why would you mess with it?” Bruno takes the ladle and spoons some for himself.

The reason Todd is here clicks in my head. Bruno, the investor. He’s the ‘we need to invent something to present to Shark Tank’ guy. He’s Mr. Let’s Get Rich Quick.

“Peppers? Peperoncino?” Todd nods, knowing he’s right.

All our heads shift back to my grandma, and she laughs.

“Oh, Amelia, he’s a keeper.” She points her finger at him. “You got it.”

“Did you put those in there just to test him, Gram?” I ask her.

She nods, grabbing some bread. “He calls himself a chef, and I wanted to see how good he is. He might have attended that fancy culinary school, but he hasn’t been around a kitchen his whole life.” She grins over to Todd. “You know your stuff, though.”

“Should I expect this at every meal each time I come over here?” Todd asks her.

“Until I stump you, yes.”

Everyone at the table laughs. When I look up, my mom’s eyes are on me and then they flick to Todd. Her face is stern, showing no signs of amusement, like the others at the table. I know what she’s thinking. If Todd is my boyfriend, how will he ever support a bum like me? Not to mention, he isn’t Italian. I have no clue what nationality Todd is, but all that matters to my mom is what he isn’t. In my mom’s eyes, I’m amounting to nothing. I’m only a liberal girl with a dream of taking pictures. I actually think she’d be happier if I sucked my body into a white dress and married an Italian man.

“I accept the challenge.” Todd winks at my grandma.

I swear a pink flush fills her cheeks.

“Stop flirting with my grandma,” I whisper over to him.

His hand falls from the table, and he squeezes my knee as he leans over. “Would you rather I flirt with you?” he coyly asks.

I’m surprised by the flutter in my stomach. “No,” I lie, even though I’ve always enjoyed the flirting between us.

“You aren’t a good liar.” He squeezes my knee one more time, and then his hand disappears to his own side.

A rush of cold shoots up my leg. Grabbing his fork, Todd begins eating again.

The rest of the meal is consumed with talks of waiting lists and admissions into preschools for my two nieces. Bruno speaks in hushed tones to Todd, who incessantly nods like a damn bobblehead. I’m curious about how Todd will react when Bruno asks for money. I can guarantee he’s going to.

After dinner is over, Lucca elbows me to start clearing the table. I narrow my eyes at him and stand to clean up the dishes.

I lean over to retrieve his, and I whisper, “Don’t forget about that time I helped you.”

He chuckles. “Like, four years ago?” he sneers.

It’s not that I didn’t already assume he wouldn’t be assisting me. What does surprise me is when Todd stands from his seat and picks up the dishes on the other side of the table.

We meet up in the middle where my parents are, and he takes my mom’s plate as I do my dad’s.

“You don’t have to help me.”

He raises a shoulder. “I want to.”

“Thank you.” I step into the kitchen, and the dishes almost drop out of my hands when I see the piles of pots and pans. “We’re going to be here for forever,” I say, exasperated.

Todd places the dishes piled in his hands down onto the side of the sink. “We’ll get through it. You forget, I was a dish boy once upon a time.”

He turns on the faucet then takes the sponge and soap, as though he’s armed for duty.

“I have this, Todd.” I bump my hip with his to scoot him out of the way.

He bumps me back. “Go clear the table, and then come back and help me dry.”

“You’re such a dictator.”

“You don’t want to find out how bossy I can be.” His head peers over his shoulder.

“Maybe I do.” I sway my hips, adding an exaggerated effect, on my way out of the room.

He doesn’t say anything back, but when I give him a second look before breaking through the doorway, I find his eyes on me. There goes that stomach flipping.

“Keep swinging that ass, and you’ll find out.”

A low heat slowly rises up my neck.

“Amelia!” My mom’s voice booms next to me when I step into the dining room.

I startle. “Mom!”

“Why is your face so red? Do you have a fever?” She places the back side of her hand to my forehead. “You feel hot.”