Break In My Heart

32. Replacing Memories

"How do you make cooking look so...majestic?" Tyler asked as I guided his hands over the frittata, putting my hands over his to help him fold it.

"Years and years of practice," I confessed. "And there. We're done." I wiped my hands off and Tyler followed suit. The morning had started off lazy, and as the minutes inched higher and higher, no one seemed willing to get the day started. My fathers had yet to come downstairs, Azalea was still holed up in her room, and even the two younger ones who usually harbored an abundance of energy seemed to still be asleep. It was weird to be in such a silent house, but it was a welcome weirdness. It gave me a better opportunity to introduce the boy I was madly in love with to another side of me–my Italian side and all it entailed.

"Say it again," Tyler asked as if he were a kid.

"Ty–"

"Please? I like the way you say it."

Knowing that I couldn't say no to him I sighed as a playful grin tugged at the edge of my lips and slung my arms around his shoulders, causing our bare chests to press against one another. "It's called a frittata. There, are you happy?"

Tyler's eyes rolled back as he slightly bent his knees, leaning into me. "I could listen to you say that word for like a week straight without getting bored," he gushed with a groan. "It's heaven to my ears."

I chuckled. "Don't make it weird."

"I'm not, I'm just telling the truth. Say something else."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, anything."

"Babe, you know I can't just say stuff on the spot. You gotta give me a moment to think."

"I'll wait," he said as he started gently running his thumbs along my hips.

After a few moments, a phrase finally popped into my head. "Okay. Here's one: La famiglia e la patria del cuore. It's an Italian proverb that means 'family is where the heart is'. It's kind of the saying that we have in this family. Not only because we're a literal mixing pot of different ethnicities and races, but also because it's a reminder that in hard times, we can choose who we consider our family. Blood isn't concrete, therefore neither is family, you know?"

He nodded. "That's beautiful, Addi. I might steal that from you. Now, say something else."

"Tyler–"

"This is the last one, promise."

"Fine," I relented before I searched my brain for something fun and meaningful to say. "Sei la coso più bella che mi sia mai capitata. Mi sono perso nei tuoi occhi. Farei qualsiasi cosa per te. Ti amo, il mio re. (You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I've lost myself in your eyes. I would do anything for you. I love you, my king)." To seal it off, I gently pressed my lips to his. His fingertips felt like feathers against my hips and his lips tasted like pure heaven and honey.

"What did that mean?" He softly asked, looking down at me since I was a bit shorter than him.

I bit my bottom lip and shook my head, breaking our gaze. Even though I'd told him countless times how much I felt for him, that confession that I'd made in my native tongue felt...different. Even those words couldn't accurately capture how I felt about him, no language or symbols could. So, I simply crossed my fingers and hoped that my actions could convey my love in a way that syllables and consonants couldn't.

He chuckled as he let me go. "To think, I found the man of my dreams and I can't even understand what he's saying half of the time."

My heart fluttered at his words as I followed him over to the other frittatas that still needed to be folded. "Wait, Ty, I'm the man of your dreams, or...?" I said in a teasing tone as I looked around as if looking for someone else. Although I was teasing him, my heart was beating out of my chest. My ears ached to hear him say it again.