"Daddy, that's kind of a touchy subject," Drew said.
Mr. Carnevale lifted his hands and gestured to Heath. "He's a man, sweetpea. He don't need to you answer for him. Heath, is that a touchy subject?"
Heath glanced at her. "It's okay," he said. He turned back to her father. "He's a retired Marine. He trains me occasionally, he trained me for Ultimate Warrior. He's a recovering alcoholic."
"That's good," Mr. Carnevale said with a nod. "Very good. How long?"
"Three years," Heath replied.
"And your mother?"
"She's passed away, sir," he answered quietly.
"Sorry about that," Mr. Carnevale said sincerely.
"Yes, very sorry to hear that," Mrs. Carnevale added, shooting him a sympathetic look.
"Thank you, ma'am," Heath said. "She had been sick. In a lot of pain. It's a good thing she went when she did."
"And your brother?" Mr. Carnevale said. "You two had to fight each other. You have a good relationship?"
"We didn't, sir," Heath said honestly. "But we're working on things now. I have a sister-in-law, two nieces. Never would have got to know them if I didn't give Connor a chance."
"That's right," Mr. Carnevale agreed. "That's good. Family is the most important thing."
"Yes, sir," Heath said.
"Dessert? Coffee?" Mrs. Carnevale said, getting another chorus of groans.
"Yes, yes, sweetheart," Mr. Carnevale said. "If it makes you happy."
"Drew, help me with your tiramisu," her mother said, patting her knee. Drew got up and followed her into the kitchen. "It's been in the fridge this whole time, along with the chocolate shavings," her mother added. "If you want to add those and serve it up."
Drew got down the dessert plates as her mother began on the coffee. She dished out portions of the dessert then carefully sprinkled the chocolate shavings on top.
"You know, sweetheart," her mother said, drawing her attention. "I really like that boy. He's so polite. Seems so quiet and respectful. He's good to you?"
Drew smiled. "Yes, Mom," she replied. "He is."
"Does he…" She stopped and swallowed. "Does he know?"
Drew sighed quietly. "He knows," she said softly. "I told him."
"Oh, honey," her mother said emotionally, and Drew turned around.
"It's okay, Mom," she said gently. "He was really understanding, really nice about it."
Her mother nodded and patted her again, tears glistening in her eyes. Drew knew her attack had hurt both of her parents to their cores, possibly more than it had hurt her, if it was possible. She realized it had to be excruciatingly painful for a parent to have to witness their child being brutalized in that manner and be completely helpless to it. She knew that it had been an enormous struggle for them to watch as Drew had healed physically, but not emotionally. Her father had been the one to pull the plug in New York; she needed a change of scenery, he'd said, and they had family in Pittsburgh. Drew had been too damaged to care where they went or if they stayed, but she had found herself growing fonder of Pittsburgh than she could ever have imagined. She liked her comfortable little life, living in Little Italy, working in the café. She would be happy to spend the rest of her days in this city—if she could only get her studio. Her parents had been ecstatic when she'd seemed like she was coming around after the move, perking up and coming back to life. But she knew they still had their moments, usually in private and not around her. At this stage, seeing her mother still so hurt and upset by what had happened to her hurt her more than thinking about the actual attack itself. She grabbed a couple of plates and leaned in to kiss her mother on the cheek before heading back into the dining room.
"Looks good, hon," her father said approvingly. "Looks very good."
"Nonie's recipe," she said, referencing her father's mother. "It's never failed me."
Although her dessert was delicious, Drew was so full she couldn't properly enjoy it. Heath, however, ate it as though he hadn't just eaten two enormous plates of food less than an hour before. The man had an empty leg, she decided.
They sat around for another hour, chatting and laughing, drinking the wine Heath had brought, until the children began to doze from full bellies and early mornings at church.
"That's our cue," Nik said, watching her son and daughter as they nodded off.
"Ours, too," Toni said.
"All right, all right," Mrs. Carnevale said. "Let me get the food packed up."
It was another half an hour before that task was completed, Mrs. Carnevale divvying up the remaining mountain of food between each of her daughters and their families. It went without saying that Drew typically found herself with the smallest portion. She didn't have a husband or children to feed, so the majority of it went to the families and to Uncle Gino. For tonight's meal, knowing she was going to have a new guest and that that guest was an "athlete", Mrs. Carnevale had made enough food for a small army. Drew watched with amusement as her mother set to work on Heath's package, shoveling into several cartons an enormous portion, enough to last him at least half the week.