The Return of My First Love novel Chapter 55

Emily

I almost ran from the table when Stefano Fanucci sat on the opposite side of me, but it turned out to be a good thing—because I didn't have to escape Domenico's glance for much longer.

The two were engrossed in their own conversation while I kept busy with Alessio. He couldn't keep his hands by himself, and managed to touch my thigh every five minutes.

Of course I had to push him away because he was unaware what he could do to me. Just one touch was enough to make me a hopeless waterfall.

He rEmilyoved his hand from my thigh and transferred some food from his plate to mine. "Eat," he commanded softly as a warm smile appeared on his lips.

"I am eating," I said, looking down at my already full plate. If I ate any more, I was afraid I would explode.

"Yes, but not enough," Stefano chimed in. I gasped, unable to say anything because I didn't want to disrespect him. Although I felt comfortable around Alessio, for some reason, I had already decided that this man didn't like me at all.

He leaned over the table to cut a piece of cake, and then he added it to my plate. It was an unexpected act of kindness, one which was not needed.

Domenico chuckled, and I turned to look at him. "When someone gives you food, it means they care about you," he explained.

I gave a quick nod, not wanting to get on his bad side. The right thing to do was to show how much I appreciated it, so I did. First, I took a bite from the food Alessio had given me, followed by the piece of cake from Stefano.

"Thank you, Sir," I smiled at Stefano, struggling to keep my lips from trEmilybling.

I hadn't forgotten the way he looked at me when I bumped into him on the stairs. He seEmilyed like someone who would say what was on his mind without caring if someone got hurt.

Ever since that day, I had been determined not to be that someone.

Stefano let out a quick scoff, "You don't call your uncle sir."

So now he was my uncle?

I was puzzled by the sudden change of behavior. Maybe that day on the stairs was just one of his bad days. Maybe he wasn't as cold as I had initially thought.

Alessio cleared his throat, "I've never seen you put any food on my plate before," he told Stefano.

"It's not like you do much for me," Stefano shot back, then glanced at me. "This one doesn't even give me gifts for my birthday. Always keeps saying, ‘I haven't forgotten about you," he called him out.

"That's not true," Alessio defended himself, but their bickering only escalated from there. As the two were arguing back and forth, Domenico tapped my hand, trying to get my attention.

"These two? Always going at it, but it's because they're alike. He might as well have been his son," Domenico shared.

I laughed, watching Alessio's small smirk as he provoked his uncle. He was clearly doing it on purpose, and Stefano was too serious to realize.

"Look, look!" Alessio clicked his tongue, rEmilyoving the expensive watch from his arm. He grabbed Stefano's wrist and wrapped it around him. "This will make up for the presents you claim I haven't gotten you."

Stefano smiled proudly, raising his wrist to take a better look at the golden watch. "This will do."

He then locked eyes with me once again, "This spoiled behavior was bound to happen when we had to grow up struggling, while those after us were born into this."

I was shocked by his confession. "So you weren't born rich?" I asked as it was hard to believe that not all Fanuccis were born into wealth.

Domenico and Stefano looked at each other as their laughter filled the table.

"Thanks, Emily," Alessio leaned in, whispering in my ear. "Now we have to sit through their whole life story. Good job."

At first I didn't understand what he meant, but it didn't take long for Domenico to begin his story.

"We moved to this country with nothing. Mom, Dad, and all twelve of us..." he paused, noticing Alessio's eye-roll. "I'll keep it short because Alessio is getting tired again."

"No, he isn't," I said, giving Alessio a light elbow, feeling bad for the way he was treating his dad. I would've wished for my dad to tell me stories like these, especially if they were inspiring. A family that came from nothing and built something. "Please, don't stop. I want to hear everything."

Domenico's eyes sparked as I told him to continue. "My father's name was also Alessio," he began. "Alessio Fanucci."

I smiled at the thought of Alessio sharing the same name as his late grandfather. A small but beautiful detail he had never shared before. "Then I'm sure he was a good man."

"Oh, yes," Stefano agreed. "The best Alessio Fanucci there was," he took a jab at Alessio who had released an exhausted breath.

"Dad worked at a factory, got treated terribly because he couldn't speak the language, and was ridiculously underpaid," Domenico shared.

"He must've had a hard time," I felt a sadness in my heart, thinking about his hardships.

"Yes. There were days there was not much to eat. My mother and father used to starve, just so they could feed us—but till this day I have never heard her complain," Domenico spoke. He respected his mother, and I could hear it in his tone.