M A R C O
Of all the experiences life taught me, there was a valuable lesson which I never forgot, and that was: when a Romano shows up at your door, unannounced, it means trouble. T-R-O-U-B-L-E in capital f*****g letters.
And right now I was staring at the epitome of trouble—Samantha Romano. Hurricanes and typhoons might as well be named after her.
Beaming, she stepped up and raised her arms, revealing the takeout bags. "I brought Indian."
I eyed her head-to-toe before frowning. "You also brought yourself."
"Hmmphf!" Sammy, the shorter version of her name as we called her, pouted. "Where are your manners, Marco? Move please, and let me in!" As expected, she shouldered her way inside the house and trotted into the kitchen.
"I am not sure you care much for manners," I muttered before
