Page 88 of My Big Fat Shifter Wedding

How could I with Olivia by my side?

Speaking of which, it was time to find my fiancée.

19

KEITH

PRIDE COMES BEFORE A FALL, BUT MALICE COMES BEFORE A PRANK

“And you must be the Miss Angela we’ve all heard about!”

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” my mother asked, giving me a teasing look over the heads of one of Olivia’s uncles, or maybe a great-uncle. I really had tried to remember them all -including several flashcard sessions with my fiancé- but there was such a number of similar-looking family members who shared similar features and even the same name (like my Olivia, Olivia-Two, and Olivia-Three), that I found myself drawing a blank almost as often as I successfully remembered a moniker.

But what I did figure out was why pet names and terms of endearment ran rampant with the Rizolis. Because anytime I forgot, it was perfectly okay to say Auntie, Uncle, Zia, Zio, or Vecio and Vez. Those six words covered most of the bases.

“You and your son are quite the talk of the pa—town!”

“Uncle Luigi,” Olivia said, her tone a warning. “I think I might have forgotten to mention a certain skill you have.”

The older man’s kind, dark brown eyes widened. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“That I am. Knock ’em dead.”

I had no idea what was going on, but my answer came when the old man hurried off to a younger woman and proceeded to ask something excitedly.

“What’s going on?” my mother asked but Olivia merely smiled into her glass of punch.

“You’ll see.”

Sure enough, the woman sighed, then reached into her purse and removed a small pouch, handing it over to the excited uncle. A moment later, he was back over to us, beaming.

“That was my wife,” he said, sounding as dopey as I often felt when bragging about Olivia to anybody who didn’t know her. “Gorgeous, isn’t she? She’s a lawyer. Looks, brains, and a heart the size of Piazza del Colosseo! Makes ya wonder what she’s doing with a schmuck like me, eh? I’m not even the head al—of the family!”

“It’s because you make her laugh,” Olivia chimed in fondly. Her gaze flicked to me. “A man who can keep you laughing and entertained is the best match you can ask for.”

“Si! You got that right! Now, for the main event!”

The man opened the pouch with a flourish and removed four small balls. My brain immediately panicked at the idea that we were going to play an absurd game of catch, but then he started juggling.

“Not bad for an old man, eh?” he asked, going through several cycles with the projectiles without dropping one. He lifted his leg and tossed the balls under it without so much as batting an eye.

“Old man?” my mother objected while lightly applauding. “Please, you’ve got to be at least fifteen years younger than me!”

He squinted at my mother and looked like he wanted to say something, but Olivia made a choking sound that was much more real than my mother’s had been.

“Are you okay?” I asked hurriedly.

“Went down the wrong pipe,” she rasped while I patted her back. “Miss Angela, Uncle Luigi here is my father’s younger brother. He turned sixty-three at the start of the year.”

“I was almost the world’s best Christmas present, but I decided I didn’t want to share the holiday of my birth with any religious figures. Less presents, ya know?”

It was a funny enough thing to say, sure, but I could tell my mother was just as hung up on his age as I was. Did the Rizolis have the fountain of youth tucked away somewhere in this large house? He was only a couple years younger than my mother, whose hair was almost completely white, and all he had was some fine wrinkles, a receding hairline, and pepper at his temples.

“You’re kidding!”

He seemed perplexed at her response, but that didn’t stop him from adding spins to his juggling routine. “No. I was born in January…”

“No, I mean—” My mother shook her head. “You look great for your age.”