Page 84 of Shattered Oath
We arrived at Elena’s at six, armed with multiple bags of ingredients, and she instantly made me wear an apron.
"The secret to good pasta is patience," she said, measuring flour onto the wooden board. "And eggs from happy chickens. Matteo, go get the eggs."
"Yes,Mamma."
He disappeared obediently, and Elena turned to me with a conspiratorial smile, lowering her voice. “Now. While he's gone. Tell me everything."
"Everything?"
"How you met. What you think of him. Whether he's being a gentleman." She cracked an egg into the flour well with one smooth motion. "He better be treating you properly, or he'll answer to me."
"He is." I watched her hands, the way they moved with decades of muscle memory. "He's been... wonderful, actually."
"Good. He gets that from me." She winked. "His father was useless in the romance department. Matteo had to learn from somewhere."
Matteo returned with the eggs, and the cooking lesson began in earnest. Elena guided my hands through the motions—forming the well, incorporating the eggs, kneading until the dough was smooth and elastic. She corrected my technique gently, praised my efforts generously.
"You're a natural," she declared after watching me roll out the dough. "Much better than Matteo was at your age."
"I was eight,Mamma."
"And you made a terrible mess. Flour everywhere, even on the ceiling somehow. The dog was white for a week."
I laughed—a real laugh that came from my belly. Matteo groaned dramatically.
"Bella, amore."He came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist as I rolled out another sheet of dough. "Let me do this for you. You should sit, relax, and enjoy the wine."
"I want to learn."
"You can learn by watching."
"That's not learning, that's spectating."
Elena chuckled, sipping her wine with obvious satisfaction. "I like her, Matteo. She doesn't let you get away with anything. You need that."
"I've noticed, Mamma. Believe me, I've noticed."
Dinner was served on the terrace as the sun began to set. The pasta was simple and perfect—fresh noodles coated in sauce that tasted like summer itself. We ate and drank and talked until the stars came out.
Elena told stories about Matteo as a child. The time he got lost in the vineyard and was found asleep under a vine. The summer he decided to become a professional soccer player and broke three windows practicing. The girl he'd brought home at sixteen who'd turned out to be terrified of dogs, which was unfortunate given the three they'd had at the time.
"Mamma, per favore."Matteo's face was red. "She doesn't need to hear all of this."
"She absolutely does. How else will she know what she's getting into?"
I laughed until my cheeks hurt. Matteo pretended to be mortified, but I could see the warmth in his eyes. The way he looked at his mother—with exasperation and love tangled together.
This was what family could look like. Easy. Warm. Full of teasing and laughter and stories passed down like heirlooms.
After dinner, Elena hugged me goodbye at the door.
"You'll come back," she said. It wasn't a question.
"I'd like that very much."
"Good." She kissed both my cheeks. "Take care of my boy."
"Mamma, I don't need taking care of?—"
