The Pursuit of Camila Cabello

Chapter Four: Lunch at the Morello's

Lauren couldn't feel her fingers and her cheeks were rosy from the cold. She had cranked up the heater but the cold had seeped into the car. Her teeth chattered but her eyes were focused intently on the changing landscape outside.

The long, twisting roads; the tall, barren trees that loomed over said roads; the familiar blues and whites of the neighbourhood houses — Lauren knew this place like the back of her hand. She had been invited for lunch at the Morello house, under the unspoken condition that she'd be sober.

She was definitely sober, considering she was nursing one of the worst hangovers she'd ever had. This was quite a feat, considering (on multiple occasions) she'd partied so hard that she has woken up in dumpsters or playgrounds, still clutching a bottle of liquor in her sleep.

Last night had been wild: she vaguely remembers table-dancing, doing body-shots, giving body-shots, and beating up at least three people — and that's only what she can remember.

Hopefully, none of her nightly extravaganzas would be mentioned at lunch.

Lauren had a horrible time trying to find a place to park. They lived on a very large estate but there seemed to be cars in every available area. She knew that there were a lot of Italians in the neighbourhood, but surely not all of them were related to Uncle Tony directly?

When she finally managed to squeeze in between two cars, she dreaded having to step out into the cold. Still, she grit her teeth and before she knew it, she's standing on the front porch in front of the door.

She didn't even knock before the door swung open and she was being engulfed by Mrs Morello. She was a rather plump woman, having birthed three children and having five grandchildren. Her eyes were warm blue and her brown hair was curly and short. She always smelled like lilacs, even then.

"Lauren, my girl," She said, squishing her to her chest, "Welcome home."

When she finally let go, Lauren flashed her a smile and said, "It's good to be home, Aunt Alma."

She was quickly ushered in and pulled through the house. It was more like a mansion, considering its' size and extravagant decor. It still had the Christmas decorations up, considering that Christmas was just yesterday and Christians were supposed to wait till the Three King's Feast to take them down.

Finally, she entered the dining room to find almost every adult member of the Morello family chowing down on Italian food. Lauren could almost taste the tomatoes from where she stood. Lasagna, pasta, spaghetti — you name it, it was there. In the corner of the room, a large Christmas Tree was strung up and heavily decorated with ornaments, tinsel and candy canes.

Uncle Tony sat at the head of the table as the man of the house. Luka sat on his left, sporting a fierce scowl that seemed permanently etched into his face. There was an empty seat to his right which was obviously meant for Aunt Alma. Beside her sat Junior, bright-eyed and grinning. Opposite him was his oldest sister, Apollonia, who sat beside her husband, Santiano. From what Lauren could see, she was sporting a rather large baby-bump. A number of aunties and uncles (the names of which escaped Lauren) filled in the other seats.

"Lauren!" Junior called, his smiling growing even wider, "You came."

"Of course she came," Luka snarled, "Papa summoned her, didn't he?"

"The word is invited, Luka," Uncle Tony said, a fierce look in his eyes, "And I'd mind your tone if I was you."

Luka held his tongue and sat back in his chair, obviously irritated with being treated like a child. Uncle Tony didn't seem to notice as he gestured towards the empty seat next to Junior. A seat that was reserved for her with great appall, judging by the nameless relatives glaring at her.