Dramatic, Mushy, Complicated Love

chest.
“Okay, let’s see,” I hummed, “Brecken is … a child, basically. He is the youngest and the only boy, so he lives like an entitled turd. He has a job working with our dad, somewhat. He still lives at home, and he has no idea what he wants to do with his life other than sleep until noon every day.”
“What does somewhat mean?”
Lifting the lid on the toaster, I poked at the bread and decided it needed another few minutes.
“Twice a week, he has to get out of bed at eight a.m. and go wash the trucks at the transport company. That is what Brecken classes as a job.” Then feeling bad for trash-talking my baby brother, I added, “But, he does help out at the shop when we need heavy lifting done. So don’t take my criticism for more than a sister dissing lovingly on her brother. Please.”
“Absolutely. And he is twenty-two, right?” Luca asked. Grabbing the jug of iced tea, he poured two glasses, putting mine next to my plate, which he set while I was making the sandwiches.
A man who doesn’t see kitchen work as the woman’s domain only. Tick!
“Yep. Why, do you know of a job for him?”
“I might, yeah, Ace is looking for a few labourers. No particular requirements other than a willingness to work hard and not being late to arrive.” His eyebrows raised comically, making me giggle.
“Um yeah, maybe I can mention it to him at family dinner tomorrow.” Not sounding convinced or confident that a job like that was for Brecken, but then again, stranger things have happened. Not all that many came to mind.
Checking on the sandwiches again, satisfied that they were perfectly cooked, I plopped them onto the plates, then went around to the other side of the island bench and took a stool next to Luca.
“Dig in, and while you do, tell me about your family. That is, more than what I already know.” Taking a big bite, I moaned at the deliciousness that was my famous corn beef toasty.
“Okay,” Luca hummed, “you know I have four sisters, and my mum is French.”
“Yup!” My mouth full, so it came out more like up.
Nodding thoughtfully, Luca absently picked up his own lunch, opened his mouth around the bread, and took a huge bite. It was the action of a man who was not afraid of food or trying something different. There was no hesitancy, no small tentative taste, just in with both feet.
“Damn, woman!” Luca suddenly moaned, “This is the best toasty I have ever tasted. The second best thing I have had in my mouth in a very long time.”
Giggling, I bumped my shoulder to his, “The first being what you were doing to me fifteen minutes ago?” I asked, already knowing the answer because he told me several times while devouring my pussy just how it was his new favourite flavour.
“Definitely,” Luca replied firmly, his eyes darkening as they swept over his shirt, covering my bare breasts.
“Oh no, you don’t, Spunk. Start talking, tell me about your sisters.” Giving Luca a mock glare, I picked up my toasty and took another bite. It wasn’t that I didn’t want his hands and mouth on me again, but getting to know each other more was higher on my priority list right now. We already knew our relationship’s sexual side wasn’t going to be a problem, but it was the other aspects that worried me. My family’s dynamics had to be very different from Luca’s, and I knew this because the universe wouldn’t create two families like mine. Life couldn’t be that cruel.
“Spoil sport,” he laughed, then got serious.
“Kayla is the oldest, and she is the one who runs the office with an iron fist. Then, Holly and Sandy have practically the same age gap as you and Spring, and Phoebe is the baby at eighteen. They are all Suzy homemakers in the making, all living at home still and all a pain in my arse. But they are my little sisters and I would do anything for them.”
“And your mum? You told me already about her, but not her name.”
“Irena. I am convinced she was a French aristocrat in another life. She loves pomp and lives for ceremony. Mealtimes at home would never be taken in the kitchen, and toasted sandwiches no matter how delicious are not on the menu.”
I could hear his jovial tone, but a little nagging voice in the back of my mind told me there was nothing funny about Luca’s mother. The Donatella matriarch scared the shit out of me, and I was yet to meet her.
“Wow! Maybe our mum’s should not meet. Trish is more like Kath from Kath and Kim. Nothing regal about her other than her Charles and Diana tea towels, ” I worried. “Something tells me Irena meeting Lennie and Trish might be a disaster waiting to happen.”
“I can’t wait to meet them!” Luca announced, sounding like he actually meant it. “They sound like a whole lot of fun. Brecken too.”
Staring hard at Luca, all of a sudden, I was worried. No one, and I mean no one, ever got excited with the prospect of meeting my parents.
“Do you have a problem with remaining sane? Is that what you are into, a secret fetish of playing with your sanity?”
Luca’s rich bellow filled the kitchen, making me suddenly comfortable with him in my space. He was the one! Why else would I be ready to hand over my heart to him so quickly?
Before I did that, officially, I had an idea that would set in stone my affirmation that Luca was my future.
“Okay, Spunk, tomorrow how about coming with me to family dinner night? Put your money where your mouth is.” My dare was getting the precise response from Luca I was hoping for. Leaning over, Luca pressed a soft kiss to my lips, the taste of pickled cabbage and boiled red meat not putting me off one little bit.
“What time do I