Love, Emma

Chapter Thirty-Five:

"And who might this be?"

An elderly lady stands in front of our table, her short figure adorned in a pencil skirt and button up blazer. With her tan skin- albeit wrinkled and weathered- and comforting eyes, she instantly reminds me of Helen, especially when she gets to our side of the table with introductions and hugs, and doesn't even hesitate to hug me, nearly breaking my back with her surprising strength.

"This is Emma Dawn, our family friend, she's here with Nathan." Helen smiles fondly at me, folding her cloth napkin back over her lap.

"Lei è bella! Bene per te Nathaniel." After winking at Nathan, she turns to me, her Italian accent hinting her words.

"Pleasure to meet you Emma, I'm Helen's mother, but you can call me Rosa." Folding her hands together over her plate, elbows kept specifically off the table, she smiles at us.

"How did you two meet?"

I glance at Nathan, waiting to see if he'd like to answer, before continuing, offering up a slightly censored version of the actual story.

"Nathan and I go to school together, so I knew him from a few classes, and then when I applied to work at the Belmonte, we started hanging out more."

"Oh how nice, lei è così gentile. Have you been working long?"

Helen answers for me, seeing my struggle to count how many months it's been by now.

"About six months by now, going on seven."

The conversation only ever stopped when a new plate of food was brought out; steaming Italian wedding soup, creamy, flawless risotto, Alfredo pasta, bottomless baskets of bread that the boys practically devoured, accompanied by garden salads, bruschetta and (my personal favorite) the bocconcini platter.

Noticing the waiters handing out the main course, I nearly faint at the mountain of food they set down, turning to Nathan in shock.

"How can anyone eat all of this?! I'm about to explode, are you even still hungry?"

"I-I c-could e-ea-eat." He shrugs simply, trying not to laugh as my eyes widen. I glance down at his slim figure, debating how he could possibly stay that slim if he's eating food like this.

"Where do you put it?"

He nearly spits out the water he was drinking, having to take a few moments to swallow.

"W-what?"

"The food! How can you stay in shape when you eat this all the time, I'm going to be a hippo by the time this is over!"

He nudges his chair closer to mine, brushing his leg against my own beneath the table.

"I l-li-like hi-hippos." His innocent expression makes me laugh, earning a triumphant smile out of him as he looks down at me.

"I'll e-eat wh-wh-wha-whatver y-you d-don't f-finish, ok-okay?"

He nods to the waiters reaching our table, and together we watch them set down heaping plates of food. The serving of parmesan chicken is nearly bigger than my face, seemingly even larger when accompanied by the spoon full of pasta, and the overflowing glass bowl they place on the table, filled to the brim with salad.

I'm not even half way through when I surrender my food to Nathan and Matteo, letting them devour the rest of my plate while I lean back, more than satisfied with the meal.

I take the time to admire the decorations, and how nicely it all came together; our hard work yesterday certainly paid off.

White curtains hang from the high ceiling, intertwined with fairy lights to give the impression of snow. Giant, balloon like light fixtures hang low over the dance floor, casting varying shades of blue into ever changing patterns along the sleek wood. The snowflakes Maria had spent so much time making are scattered throughout the mist of tables, hanging through the curtain sheets. It's beautiful, all of it; the kind of wedding you hear about in fairy tales, or see on the pages of magazines.