Page 70 of My Big Fat Shifter Wedding

I laughed along with him, not wanting to point out that Olivia rarely talked about him. She’d mentioned something about him being next in line for being the patriarch, which I didn’t quite get, and that he lived next door with his wife and four kids.

With a family so insular, it really was a miracle that Olivia and I had ever met at all. No wonder her family was a bit taken aback that I was some random suburban American with pasty white skin and a ginger beard.

It made me feel a little like an alien, but at the same time, it also made me envision something I never had before. Which was me, surrounded by dozens of cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts and uncles on a holiday, handing out presents and getting to see more smiles than I normally would in a month. I was seeing myself kissing boo boos and letting kids who had grown too big to ride on their mama’s back clamber onto my shoulders and pretend they were little again.

I saw myself helping with homework, volunteering to babysit when parents were sick. I saw full tables, overflowing cups, and all the laughs I could ever want.

Had I always wanted a big family? The thought struck me as Riccardo began to drone on about his recent work project and how glad he was the moment he could take off for a visit coincided with my visit.

Sure, when I was a lonely kid, I’d sometimes wished my mom and I had someone else in our lives so she wouldn’t be exhausted and have to do everything all the time, but I’d never really thought of it beyond that. Now that I was surrounded by people who were all smiling and talking to each other, I was beginning to understand that what I’d craved was a community.

And man, did Olivia’s massive family make a dynamic community.

“Did you hear me, my friend?”

I shook my head. Riccardo was looking at me with the same curious expression that Olivia, Rolando, and her uncle had all shot toward me. Yeah, they were definitely all related.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Do you mind repeating it?”

He clapped me on the back again, laughing, and this time it was hard enough that I had to shift my weight on my feet so as not to lose my balance.

“No worries! There have been so many of us in your face already. I can’t blame you for being overwhelmed. Ginger used to think the same thing when I was first courting her, and she’s known my family her whole life.”

As much as I appreciated his jovial tone, I wasn’t going to sit silently and suffer. Not when hanging out with Amanda had taught me that it was always possible that someone didn’t understand they were making another person uncomfortable. It was better to try discussing something first before assuming malicious intent.

“Hey, are you meaning to slap my back so hard?” I asked neutrally. “I don’t mind the occasional ‘atta boy,’ but it’s starting to feel a little sore in that same spot.”

The genuine look of shock on his face told me I was right to have chosen communication rather than silently stewing about it.

“Apologies. I didn’t realize. Sometimes I think my strength gets away from me. You know how it is!”

I did. As a teenager, I’d accidentally broken many delicate things because my frame was shooting up and filling out faster than my brain could adjust to. I recalled how Olivia had sent a chisel flying during her first class when I’d gone over to tell her she needed to ease up on her handwork.

It seemed absurd strength ran in the Rizoli genes.

Good to know.

“Riccardo! Stop hogging our honored guest all to yourself!” another said, and I looked over my shoulder to see Olivia’s sister approaching. She didn’t quite make it over to us before the doorbell chimed, and Rolando basically appeared out of nowhere.

“I’ll get it!”

He hurried off while I tried to school my face into a pleasant expression. The ringing doorbell meant more people were asking to come in. So the calm, casual lunch was about to be a full-on family reunion.

No pressure at all...

It wasn’t exactly what I hoped for, but Olivia was more than worth it, so I put on my metaphorical big boy pants and continued to socialize. After all, I wanted to make the best first impression to ease Olivia’s anxiety about how her family would react.

Just as Serafina was telling me about the twins she’d had a few months ago, a voice from the kitchen called out, “Food is ready! Everyone, come help yourself in the dining room!”

I’d been so preoccupied with the size of the room and all the people around me, I’d forgotten there was more to see. Like the dining room. Curiosity sparked anew, and I hurried along with the migration of Italians toward what I was sure would be a delicious meal.

Once again, however, my planned action was interrupted when Olivia gripped my arm and guided me through a different set of doors. I frowned, a little disappointed because I had caught a whiff of something that smelled truly delicious, but I didn’t object. And that turned out to be the right course of action, because instead of entering a grand dining room that could comfortably fit a dozen people, I found myself in a lovely kitchen that would have fit in perfectly in any of the Godfather movies. Other than the massive fridge, stove, and industrial looking hood, the entire kitchen screamed rustic Italian countryside.

My mind instantly went to how I would design a kitchen hutch to fit in with the theme, how I would refurbish the vaulted rafters above our heads, but I managed to pull myself out of woodworking mode when I noticed a more modest table set for five.

“Here you are,” Olivia said, sounding happy and nervous. “You can sit next to me.”

It looked like we were getting our intimate meal after all, and the red flags that had been popping up in the back of my head faded. Although I was guessing, it seemed someone had let it slip that I was coming, and a bunch of people started showing up without asking, so her parents had found a compromise to still be the social hub for their family but still honor their date with their daughter.