Chapter 160

Raella's POV

“Maybe I should sit at the head.” I stood back and tried to imagine the place setting there. “Do you think it would be too formal to have the whole length of the table between us?”

Joey had endured an hour of my fidgeting and fussing already, so the poor man just shrugged. “Whatever you decide will be fine.”

That was nice and all, but I had never doubted my own decisions more than I did today. Raella or silver cutlery? Should I wear a pantsuit or a dress? Full face of makeup or keep it minimal?

“Your dad doesn’t care about any of that,” Vincenzo had told me that morning before he climbed out of bed. “He is just excited to sit down and get to know you. So let him see you. Be yourself.”

The trouble was, I didn’t know who I was.

A month ago, I had been a waitress at a cheap Mexican restaurant. I lived in a dinky one-bedroom apartment and spent my limited free time watching reality television until my eyes bled.

Then I was a target, bait, Vincenzo Marinelli’s fake fiancée, Dominic Falcone’s forced fiancée (again), and now… Now, I was building a life with the man I loved. I knew how to move forward with Vincenzo. I knew how to leave Damian and my mother and Dominic and Carmella behind me.

What I didn’t have a single fucking clue how to do was merge my past and my present.

My dad had been firmly in my past. Where did he fit in now?

My thoughts were spiraling out of control when Joey laid his hands on my shoulders. “If you want my honest opinion, Mrs. Raella, I think you two should take your dinner at the kitchen island.”

“What?” I spun away from the table and faced Joey. He was only a foot away, which was the closest we had ever been. He had always struck me as a rich, formal grandpa. You knew he loved you, but he wasn’t going to say it. “But you spent so much time getting the dining room ready!”

“I did. And then you spent twice as much time moving it all around and rearranging.”

I dropped my face into my hands. “Ugh. I’m sorry. I’m being the worst. You worked so hard and I undid all of it. You’re better at this than I am. I should have just left it the way you had it. Maybe I can move it back and—”

I was already halfway turned around when Joey stopped me. “No.”

I blinked at him, too stunned and frazzled to find any words.

“You need to take a deep breath, dear.”

I inhaled and exhaled slowly. “I’m freaking out.”

“You are,” he agreed. “Which is why you’re going to stop touching everything and trust that it will all work out. You like to eat at the kitchen island, so do that. Do what you are comfortable with and forget about appearances or what anyone else will think. Be yourself. That is enough.”

I was obviously teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown, because Joey’s little speech had me holding back tears.

“Joey, I—just, thank you. I appreciate everything you’ve done today. But therapy sessions are probably outside of your job description. You can go. I’ll figure this all out on my own.”

“Anything Mr. Marinelli asks me to do is within my job description.”

It took me a second to register what he was saying. “Hold on—did Vincenzo ask you to help me?”

“He was worried about you,” he said by way of explanation. “And he told me that if you were spiraling, I was supposed to grab your shoulders and tell you to take a deep breath.”

I would have been mad that Vincenzo thought I needed to be managed if it hadn’t worked so well.

“Did he tell you to give me a pep talk, too?”

He shook his head. “No. That was my choice. Did it help?”

I smiled. “Yeah. It did. Thank you.”

Sometimes, I forgot that along with Vincenzo, Giselle, Lucian, and Lorenzo, I had also gained an entire mafia. A family who would support me and take care of me. Including Joey.

I was almost at ease when the doorbell rang. As soon as it did, I stiffened and my anxiety ramped right back up to eleven out of ten.

Then Joey laid a hand on my shoulder once more. “You’ll be fine, madam. I’ll answer the door and escort him to the kitchen.”

I was too nervous to do anything more than nod and head in the direction Joey pointed. It was my own dad. No one should have been this nervous to see their own dad.

Then again, no one should have been forcefully separated from their dad and lived on the streets as a teenager. But shit happened.

Dinner was keeping warm in the oven and, as soon as I stepped into the kitchen and the swirling aroma of roasted meat and potatoes, I knew Joey was right. This was the gathering place. Where Vincenzo and I made coffee in the morning. Where Giselle painted her nails while Lucian and Vincenzo talked out on the patio. It was the heart of the house and I was comfortable here.

I was also very glad I had swapped out my dress for a pair of dark wash jeans at the last minute.

Be myself. I’m enough.

I repeated those words to myself over and over again, but I was still standing awkwardly by the island when Joey walked into the kitchen with my dad right behind him.