Chapter 30

"Amore Mia," I gasp as my dad's voice climbs up the stairs which feels like a smack to the face. What the hell is he doing here? Not that I care he stopped by because it's been forever since the two of us have been in the same room at the same time, but of all times it has to be after Cody and I finally had sex.

Oh god, my shirt.

Glancing down, I remember what I'm wearing. Thinking that Cody was alone in the house, I grabbed the first thing I saw which was one of his shirts that I had slept in the night before, sans underwear. Snapping my hands to the hem of the shirt, I try tugging it down to gain a few more inches. While it gives me a couple more inches to make sure I'm not baring myself to my dad, it, unfortunately, stretches the material causing it to tighten against my chest exposing a very detailed image of my nipples pressed against the cotton.

"Hi, Daddy."

Scott's eyes snap to Cody where he takes in his half-dressed appearance, his lips pursing during his perusal before bouncing back to mine where he knows doubt is putting two and two together right now. "Would the two of you please put some clothes on, and we can all cook dinner together?"

Fuck my life.

Cody doesn't hesitate before he's bounding up the stairs. Taking them two at a time to quickly get away from my dad.

Scott Mariano is a fun guy. He loves to joke and make people smile. But he can also be an intimidating asshole. He has to be. In his line of business, being a head chef and restaurateur requires him to put his foot down, letting people know that he's in charge.

The same energy I've witnessed in his kitchen as he yells at chefs for providing mediocre food in his restaurant is the same energy he's directing at my boyfriend. I do not doubt that he's doing it on purpose. Dad knows what happens in college. I'm a testament to what college students do. If I had to guess, he's trying to challenge Cody to see if he can withstand the heat. He wants to make sure Cody's cut out for his favorite daughter. But it won't be long before he's cracking jokes and making Cody feel like he's a part of our little family.

Or I could be completely wrong.

After Cody and I quickly change into our clothes, and I smoothed down my sex-mussed hair by pulling it back up in a messy bun, the two of us enter the kitchen, nervous energy radiating from both of us. I've been wanting Cody to meet my dad but not under these circumstances

While we were changing, Dad set up the kitchen. He must've stopped at the store on his way over because my countertops are piled high with fresh ingredients. I know for a fact that our fridge was looking a little bare.

Standing at the opposite counter, I reach for a knife and begin dicing vegetables to add to the green leaf lettuce I've washed and spun dry. With each cut, I try to listen in to the conversation taking place behind me as Dad is trying to show Cody how to slowly incorporate the flour from the makeshift well where the egg yolks sit inside.

"Nice work, now take the dough and place it on the flour-covered counter," Dad instructs Cody. "The dough is going to feel pretty dry, but as you knead, it'll start to come together and feel smooth."

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as Cody's strong back flexes and relaxes each time he presses into the dough.

He lets out a frustrated groan. "It's sticking to my fingers."

Poor Cody. I know he enjoys being in the kitchen, but that usually extends only to his Monday meal prepping before the busy week. Otherwise, he's all for ordering a greasy pizza from Cousin Jimmy's.

"That's okay, it happens. You simply need to add a little more flour to the surface." My chest warms as I hear Dad's calm, teaching voice instruct my boyfriend.

Forgetting about my task, I watch my two favorite guys. With a harsh exhale, Cody does as instructed, and I watch as a gleaming, prideful smile spreads across his face as he watches the dough form into the perfect consistency. Dad notices too, and the corner of his lips tip up.

"It's all about patience and staying calm while in the kitchen." Dad's attention turns my way. "Amore Mia, have you not had him in the kitchen with you while you cook?"

"We've been a little busy," I answer as I continue chopping vegetables. I'm not sure why Dad is having him even make pasta, I saw the bag of fresh pasta he must've brought with him.

I watch Dad's eyes squint, glaring daggers to his left where Cody stands wrapping the dough into the plastic wrap to chill. His beaming smile spreads across his face but quickly morphs into a neutral expression when he realizes Dad is eyeing him. "Yes, I see that the two of you have been busy."

Dumping the vegetables in the salad bowl with the leafy green mixture, I walk over to the fridge and find a bottle of chardonnay toward the back. Wine will fix everything. Pouring my dad a glass, I hand it to him, and he winks at me as he takes the glass from my hand.

I knew it.

"Yes, Dad, we've been very busy. What with all the traveling and hotel stays." I chuckle as Cody's head snaps in my direction, his eyes widening at my comment.

"Alright, Amore Mia, don't push it."

Dad turns to Cody and claps his hand on Cody's shoulder. "Thanks for being a good sport, but you can relax now son."

A deep exhale leaves Cody as we both watch as his body completely relaxes. His shoulders drop from the tense position up around his ears to a neutral, normal location.

"Thank God. I'm so sorry you met me under those circumstances."

"Don't sweat it. I was a twenty-year-old once upon a time. Although at twenty, I had a one-year-old." Dad pauses, finding me watching their interaction. With a wistful expression, he says, "I'm not ready to be a grandpa yet, just remember that."

Cody's eyes bug out, and I shake my head. "Yes, sir. We are uh—"

"I don't need details." Dad shivers. "Now the two of you go sit. I'm glad I brought a batch of my fresh pasta though."

Thirty minutes later, the three of us are sitting down at the kitchen table with lobster pasta in a cream sauce in front of us. Before I eat, I reach for my phone to snap a picture of my plate.

"Okay, everyone, squeeze together." Dad is holding his wineglass up, Cody is leaning forward, and I'm smiling from ear to ear. My two favorite people are together around my table, eating a home-cooked meal. I'm so happy that all feels right in the world.

Cody twirls the pasta on his fork before taking a huge bite. "This is delicious."

He moans, and I clench my thighs together because it's the same moan he makes when he goes down on me. And I should not be thinking about him eating something else right now with my dad sitting across from us.

"You two need to come to the restaurant sometime. Let me know what works in your schedule, and I'll make sure to have a table ready for you."

"Yes, sir. We'll definitely have to take you up on that offer."

Dad nods. "So, Cody, tell me a little more about yourself. What are your inten—"

"Dad!" I cut him off as Dad chuckles. He knows exactly what he's doing. And I know he's protective of me, it's only ever been just the two of us, but we don't need to do the whole "what are your intentions" convo.

"As you know, I'm a pitcher for the baseball team. I'm studying psychology with the idea of becoming a sports psychologist—someone who works with athletes and their inner workings. Most athletes when they struggle with their game are facing some kind of mental block, and I want to be the one to work with them to move past that blockade and get them back into their game."

Dad nods as he sips on his wine. "That's a really great career aspiration. Mental health is as important as physical health, and I think in today's society more and more people are starting to understand that connection."

"I completely agree. I know that when I'm in a good headspace, I can accomplish so much. Our bodies are temples, and we should treat them as such. That means starting with our mental health. With a strong mindset, nothing can keep us down."

I watch as my father sits back in his chair, fork in hand from when he took his last bite, as he stares at Cody with an inquisitive look creasing his forehead. Pointing his fork at Cody, Dad starts nodding his head before turning to look at me. "I really like this kid. Good work, Amore Mia."

Before there's a chance for me or Cody to say anything, our front door bursts open and in walks my roommate with Quinton right on her heels. The two of them stop, and I watch Brynn's nose point in the air before she's spinning on her heels as her eyes widen at the three of us at the table. "Daddy Mariano!"

Bringing my elbow to the table, I rest my shaking head in my hand with embarrassment. She did not just say that. Cody chuckles softly, and I remove my head from my hand in time to see my dad's cheeks reflect the same pink shade I get when I'm embarrassed.

He clears his throat, gathering his silverware onto his plate. "Brynn. Quinton."

"We're sorry to interrupt," Quinton says as he follows Brynn, who has an extra bounce in her step.

"You're not interrupting anything. Please, help yourselves to lobster pasta, we were just chatting."

And that's how I find myself on a Thursday evening having an unplanned dinner with family. We might not all be blood, but family doesn't have to come from blood. Family can be those who have your back no matter what. The people who pick you up on your hardest days. Or cheer the loudest on your best days.

Family stems from love, and when you love someone with your whole heart, you cherish each moment that you spend with them because you never know when the day may come when you find yourself alone.

I didn't know how accurate those words would feel.