Gio

Before Celia lets Marilyn in, I storm to my bedroom and shut the door.

Fuck.

I can't do this right now.

I open the drawer to grab a pair of briefs and jeans. Put on a random shirt from the closet. Tear through my hair and groan behind my hands.

"Okay. Just a few hours of small talk. That's it. I can do that."

Why did we fight? Doesn't she realize I'm fucking dying over here? My dick hurts. My arm is sore. I wouldn't be surprised if the shower drain gets clogged any day now.

I want her.

So. Fucking. Bad.

"Gio, I'm leaving!" She yells. A moment later, she closes the main door.

Great. I'm alone with her grandma. Me. The guy who can barely form a full sentence.

"Hi," I smile, bending over for a hug. "Did Celia already leave?"

Dumb fucking idiot. No, she's still here. She's just wearing an invisibility cloak.

"You seem a little tense..." Marilyn laughs.

I chuckle and step back, then remember she has grocery bags by her feet. "Oh. Let me take these. Jesus. Did you carry all of these? You could've told me, I'd go buy whatever you need."

"I don't trust you." Marilyn follows me into the kitchen where I set the bags and starts to take the contents out. "I have a very sharp eye. I notice details that many people don't."

"With produce?" I smile, watching her line up the counter space with every vegetable possible.

It's like she's pulling the entire supermarket out of the bags. Tomatoes, eggplants, carrots, potatoes, bell-peppers, onions. There's a mountain of herbs. Fresh bread and butter. Eggs and milk. Ground beef, chicken. Canned tomatoes and pumpkin.

"Wow." I scratch my head. "Uh... Ari's at Chanel's. She's watching the parade with Liam. She should be back soon."

"I'm not here for Ari... I'm here to hang out with you, silly goose!" She laughs at my reaction and ambles close, grabbing the blue towel from the dishwasher beside me.

"I don't really... cook..." I rub my neck, leaning against the counter.

She stares at me with an intense gaze. Her weary eyes squint and her lips pull into a smirk, but it's intelligent, if that even makes sense. There's an arch to her short and dark eyebrows, like she's truly dissecting every detail about me and I don't like that.

But she's a fascinating woman— okay, maybe a little intimidating. Same height as Celia. Dresses nicely too. The thick, green blouse reaches her white pants and flares around the elbows. Her short, silver-gray hair is wavy and swept back. She has a red necklace on that seems to be made out of seashells.

"Then what do you cook for Ari, dear?"

"Not much, to be honest..." My voice is disturbingly deep compared to her soft one.

"That won't do." She turns to the grocery bags and folds them. "A growing woman needs healthy, homemade food, Giovanni. I should teach you how to cook."

"Yeah. Thanks."

What did Celia need to buy from the grocery store? Was she just trying to get away from me?

"How'd you celebrate Thanksgiving when you were little?" Marilyn twists to look at me.

"Oh." I reach for the fridge to grab a can of coke. "We never really made a big deal out of it." I flip the tab and chug, hoping to ease my dry throat.

"What'd you eat at home?"

"A bunch of stuff." I shrug.

She faces me fully and steps close, tilting her head with patient curiosity. God.

I back against the counter once again. Square my shoulders and clear my throat.

I focus on the sink to my right, remembering Celia standing there at 1 AM last night. She was in a yellow shirt and her hands were stained with pomegranate juice. I was drying the dishes as she washed while we quietly discussed the theories of feeling alone.

"What type of stuff would you eat, dear?" Marilyn pulls my attention back.

"Oh you know, she'd buy all kinds of those packaged meals. The ones you microwave?" I force a smile. "Yeah, they'd be on discounts, so she'd splurge on Thanksgiving."

She looks away, but doesn't hide her deepening frown.

"I don't do that with Ari!" I reassure her. "She eats at Oscar's every Thanksgiving. His wife is an amazing host."

"What about you?"

"Me? I eat too."

"Has anyone ever cooked a homemade meal for you?"

I'm sure someone has... Vivien? No. Ari? She makes me peanut butter sandwiches.

"Yeah. They have." I nod, amused by her concerns.

"So what's your favorite meal?"

"Anything." I laugh. "I'll eat anything."

"What's your favorite one, though?"

"I don't really have a favorite meal. Every meal is my favorite."

"Aw..." She cooes, laughing softly. "You know what, dear?" She lifts her palm to cup my face and I lean into it. "You're so fucking stupid!" She slaps me.

I hold my cheek, frozen in place. "Ow." She starts pulling my ear. "Ow! What are you—"

"Punishing you, you stupid giant boy." She hits my face with the towel, stabbing me in the eye. "You think you can fool grandma Marilyn with your nice bullshit? No! Shame on you!"

I'm blind and I'm falling on my knees, shielding myself. "What are you talking about!"

"I don't have a favorite meal." She mimics sarcastically and whips the towel again, this time hitting my ear. "Give me whiskey!"

Oh my God. The women in this family are crazy.

"Sure." I rummage through the cabinets to get a glass and twist the whiskey bottle open, pouring her a shot. "Here."

"What is this shit, pour me some more."

"Got it!" I pour another shot.

"More, Giovanni. Pour like a man!"

"Fuck..." I whisper, then freeze and hope I don't get hit again. I pour two more just in case.

"Good." She smiles then goes blank again. "Now drink."

"Me? No, I'm okay—"

"Drink!"

"Okay!" I lift the rim to my lips with one last 'do I really have to do this?' look.

"Until. The last. Drop." She raises her eyebrow.

"I probably won't... be able to do that..." I say under my breath before I drink. She watches me, which is so unnerving. I end up drinking the whole thing on an empty stomach.

"Wonderful." She smiles as I wipe my mouth and groan, turning back to her veggies. "Now, why did you and Celia get in a fight?"

"That's kind of personal." I put the glass by the sink, staring out the window above.

"Was it about sex?"

"Huh?" I whip my head over my shoulder.

"Love, intimacy, sex. Same thing." She shuffles beside me, dumping a pile of potatoes in the sink. "You guys must have some wild arguments in this house." She smirks at me with a side glance. "Two stubborn people with anger issues..."

"I don't have anger issues." I try to sound firm, but it comes out like a question.

"Oh honey. You do. Suppressed anger is an anger issue." She scrubs the dirt off of the potatoes, running them under water. "You'd be an idiot if you weren't angry, and you're no idiot."

"No. I've just learned not to expect anything." I defend myself. "It's easier this way."

"And you expect Celia to be okay with that." She gives me an amused glance.

I scowl, wondering what the hell she's talking about. Also realizing I contradict myself.

"Ah, so you do expect things, Giovanni." She grins, turning the water off. "Then let me ask you a question, dear. If you're going to suffer either way, why not suffer from expecting the best?"

"I don't think you understand." I mutter, picking up the glass again. "Or maybe I don't understand, which to be honest, is kind of your fault. You made me take like four shots, so..."

I step away to pour myself a few more shots. "I am loving this bonding session though. Talking about our problems and all. I am thrilled."

"Oh boy." She carries the potatoes to her cutting board. "Alright, dear. How do you feel about casserole?"

"I've never had it, but I've seen it on TV and honestly..." I close my eyes, envisioning the golden crust with butter and cheese... "Mmm."

"That's funny, because I'm making my special potato casserole." She suppresses her laughter. "I guess it's your lucky day."

This whiskey must be hitting me, because it's getting my chest all warm.

After some time, the stovetop is crowded with simmering pots. The kitchen is wafted with cozy smells of meats, tomatoes, garlic and herbs. I learn how to caramelize onions and mix various spices. So long story short, I'm a fucking chef.

Marilyn suggest we don't tell anyone that I made the mashed potatoes, so when they compliment how delicious it tastes, she'll announce that I made it. I laugh it off, saying she shouldn't—

I can't wait.

When the food's ready, I go change. I put on the slim, black turtleneck Celia got for me last week. She said we should match. She said I look chic. I said I look like Gru from Despicable Me.

But fine. If it makes her less mad, I'll wear the damn outfit. I'll put on the gray— no, charcoal pants— with black suede boots and silver watch.

I keep looking out the window to see if Celia's home. At some point, Luna perches on it to help. But she's glaring the whole time, so I'm not entirely sure if she wants Celia to come back. The two have always had this cold war going on.

Eventually, Chase and Oscar come over with cake and red flowers. I wave at them from the window and ask how they are, not really paying attention until Oscar says that his wife is pregnant.

I almost jump, then remember I'm 6'4. So I go for a bro hug. He does the jumping and gets teary eyed, saying we must celebrate at their place tonight. The original plan was to eat here and go over there for drinks and games, but I assume Oscar is so stoked, he won't be able to sit still.

It's 5 PM and Ari's already here. In fact, Liam, Arthur and Chanel too. Arthur's like a nervous kid with a crush. Chanel's still a little fake, but has the same sparkle and blush on her face.

It's kind of disturbing. But, whatever floats their boat. I don't care. Where's Celia? The appropriate time for shopping has long passed.

"What if something happened?" I ask Marilyn who stands behind me by the window.

"I talked to her an hour ago, Gio. She'll be home."

"You talked to her?" So she's just ignoring me.

"Yeah, she's alright. Sometimes people need space, don't take it so personal." She pats my shoulder.

"What's up, Gio? Why are you crying?" Chase pops beside me.

"Aw, is he waiting for Celia?" Chanel cooes, then laughs. "That's adorable."

Luna hisses, then slowly blinks at me. I pet her head to say thank you.

"Take a shot with me, bro. Come on." Chase nudges me with a shot glass of tequila.

"I'm good."

I might need to drive soon and look for her.

"Take a shot! Don't be such a baby—"

"I said I'm fine!" I throw him warning look.

"Okay." He backs away, lowering his voice. "My bad."

The doorknob twists and we turn in that direction, watching Celia open the door.

"There she is!" Marilyn sighs, returning to the kitchen. "Safe and sound."

"Where have you been?" I ask quietly. She already seems spooked from everyone's attention.

"Excuse me, I need to wash up." She tucks her hair behind her ear, mumbling at the ground before dashing down the hallway.

I start to follow, but Chase grabs my arm. "Give her space, man. Calm down. Take a shot."

I take a deep breath, noticing the tension on everyone's face as they try to ignore me.

"Yeah." I take the shot glass. "Let's do it."

"Dad, look!" Ari runs up to me with Liam. "He's your minion too!"

"Banana." Liam imitates like the cartoon character, making Ari snicker.

"Oh yeah, I meant to ask." Oscar approaches, checking me out from head to toe. "Who's responsible for this fabulous transformation?"

"Isn't it obvious? If it's not me, it has to be Celia." Chase grumbles, rolling his eyes. "If it was up to this animal, he'd walk with leaves around his crotch. He has no respect for himself—"

"Can you shut up?" I throw my arm around his neck. "I'm not in the mood for your jokes today!"

"L-let me. Go..." He chokes, then elbows me in the gut. I bend over and he jumps on my back, dropping us on the ground. "Down, you dog! Save your hormones for somebody else!"

"Son of a ..." I toss him back and turn to punch his face, but Arthur quickly pulls me back.

"Aww... " Ari and Liam complain.

"Drinks? We need drinks." Marilyn brings a tray of cocktails and Chanel cheers.

"Let's go out for fresh air, huh?" Arthur pats my chest while Oscar helps Chase to stand up.

"No." I head down the hallway, ignoring their protests.

Her bedroom light is on when I quietly knock. "Celia, you in there?"

She doesn't respond for a moment. "Yeah..."

"Can I come in?"

"Okay..." she says softly.

I step in, closing the door behind me—

She's wearing a white sweater.

I look down at my black turtleneck, feeling like a complete idiot. "Should I just change?"

"I don't care. Wear whatever you want." She shrugs as if this wasn't her idea.

I slowly approach. "Is everything okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we had a fight..." I stand close enough to reach my arm and touch her, but I don't. Not with the way she's looking at me so distant and cold. "I've been waiting for you to come home this whole time so we could talk."

She crosses her arms and laughs, looking away. "There's nothing to talk about. We're fine."

No, we're not. Why is she acting like this?

She gives me a smile that doesn't reach her lips. "Let's go. They're waiting."

Fuck that. I hold her hip as she tries to slip by and pull her into my arms.

She sucks in a sharp breath. Her lips part, drawing my attention on them and before I can stop, I'm crashing my mouth on hers.

She moans softly and that's all the encouragement I need. I pick her up, wrap her legs around me, needing her close. She squeezes in return— thighs, arms, lips, as tight as possible. I hold the back of her head and walk us towards the bed, laying her down. I climb between her legs and pull her up high, deepening the kiss.

Just like this morning, except angry, along with something else. Something that tightens my throat like a creeping snake. I need it gone. I dig my hands into her thighs and slip under her skirt, focusing on how hard she breathes, how she curves her soft, small body under mine.

I kiss her neck, sucking her skin between my lips. Groan when she whimpers and rolls her hips. I cover her mouth, remembering the house is full. Angry that it's Thanksgiving. Angry that she was gone all day and now we have zero privacy.

"Guys, we need to get started on dinner—" Oscar opens the door and screams. "Ah! I'm so sorry!"

"Fucking hell..." I get up and throw the blanket over Celia. "Do you want to get hit, Oscar? Knock before barging in!" I growl out, blocking Celia.

"You sick bastard, lock your doors. There are children in this house!" He holds his chest, then calmly addresses Celia. "Are you okay, honey? Do you want Gio to leave you alone?"

"Please." She whispers, face red and hair wild.

"Really?" I ask, sobering up.

"Mhm." She purses her lips, trying not to laugh.

"You heard her, let's go." Oscar grabs my arm and drags me out of the room.

"But—"

"No buts, you need to say the prayer so we can eat then go to my house. Chop chop. Celia hurry up!" Oscar yells, taking me down the hallway.

~ A/N ~
Hahaha I think Gio's slowly losing it, guys xD