Sienna DiMarco
Salvatore cooked a delicate pasta dish; he was in his element, following his Nonna´s recipe. “It smells amazing,” I said, while nibbling on the snacks he kept placing before me.
“Good, I asked Santino to come… for dinner,” he said, and I looked at myself.
“Sal! I am not even remotely presentable,” I complained.
“You look beautiful,” he smiled, and I sighed.
“I know you say that because you love me, but… this is not the way I want to get to formally meet your family,” I sighed, and he smiled.
“He was the one driving you to the hospital, darling… He has seen worse.” Sal patted my hand, and I took a deep breath.
“At least let me shower,” I said, and he smiled.
“Of course, once dinner is ready, we can shower.” His voice was tender and caring. God! The past six mo
