As was the norm, Sundays were reserved for family and when my pops put on a spread, he didn’t need to call us over. We smelled the invitation from down the street. Soon after we arrived, I saw mama’s navy blue, white speckled enamel pot sitting in the center of the table, and I could already taste what was inside.

When the entire family was seated, Giada opened the pots and I immediately began salivating. My mother’s rabbit ragu sat to one side of the big pot of polenta, and on the other was something I didn’t recognize. Whatever it was smelled great though.

While Vittoria loaded up plates for the boys, I watched her closely as she leant down and asked them each what they wanted. It caused an unexpected emotion to wash over me. Satisfaction. She fell into her role of stepmother fairly easily which spoke highly of her considering my kids were not always on their best behavior. I had to cut ‘em some slack though. They’d been through things other kids their age couldn’t possibly understand, and Vittoria’s own losses resonated with theirs.

I watched my wife and her gentle curves move effortlessly around the family table and part of me grew impatient wondering what the hell was taking so long. She was young, I was amorous and we weren’t using birth control, yet every month she got her courses.

My gaze fell to her stomach with a longing I thought had long passed.

The desire to see her pregnant was a needy one. I wanted her to swell with part of me. I wanted a son with my wife’s expressive eyes or a daughter with her soft heart. But more than anything, I craved another child to dote on.

Hers. Mine.

Ours.

While she provided for the kids, it was my job to provide for her. I took her plate and began to fill it. And I felt his eyes on me from across the table. When I glanced up at him coolly, Daniele simply looked down as I held my wife’s plate, shook his head slowly then lifted his hand and mimed a whipping motion.

My jaw tightened at the implication that I was pussy whipped. I would refrain from pouring a ladle of steaming hot sauce into his lap, if only because I could see my father’s health waning and another fight between siblings was not going to improve his disposition.