make the long, arduous trip all the way next door, armed with freshly-baked cookies.

I made a point to look nice tonight. Perfect makeup, did my hair. A pretty dress that is still completely appropriate considering Natalia will be here. I know this will be spectacularly awkward.

The smile that captures his face when he opens the door and sees me makes me melt to my toes. The softness in his expression and the sparkle in his eye are disarming.

"You didn't have to bake for me, dolcezza," he says, almost teasingly, taking the plate from my hands. He leans over me, smelling dark and masculine, like him. The warmth coming from him as he stands so near is dizzying.

I bite my lip, tilting upward so our mouths almost touch. "They're for Natalia."

He grins that small, sexy, mischievous grin, and my breath catches in my throat. He leans in closer, dark eyes floating towards my lips. His voice is low, rough. I can feel his words against my skin. "And here I was thinking you liked me, or something." And he kisses me, and my hand floats up to his face, fingers drifting through his thick hair. He tilts my head back, his mouth and tongue soft and warm and slow.

When we pull apart for air, a small giggle escapes me, and the confused look on his face makes me laugh some more. I shake my head, using my thumb to rub my lipstick off his pink lips. "This isn't your colour," I explain, my voice a quiet, teasing flutter against his face.

He leans in to kiss me again but there's a knock on the door. Sighing, I take the cookies from him to the kitchen, giving him a small wink. Here we go.

"Hey, Nata," he greets softly, and the gentleness of his voice makes me smile a little.

"Hi, Nero." She sees me, gives me one of her smiles. Not weary, not angry. Just her, like I remember. "Hey, Ros."

"Hey, Natalia."

I offer to help Nero finish up in the kitchen, but he sends me away with a glass of sparkling apple juice to join Natalia in the living room.

She starts by shaking her head, a breath escaping her. "Your brother is such an idiot, Rosalyn," she huffs, a smile tugging at her the edge of her mouth.

"What's new?" I chuckle.

"Well, he ran over the neighbor's cat this morning."

A snort escapes me. "Oh god. He hates cats."

"The poor thing. He tossed it into a shoe box and brought it to their front door." She brings a hand up to her mouth, stifling a laugh. "He offered to buy them a new one! Can you imagine?"

"That sounds exactly like Daniel."

Nero makes his way into the living room, takes a seat across from us. He raises a perfect eyebrow. "Well, Natalia nearly killed my dog as a child."

I look at her in shock. Her face flushes a little, mortified. "Hey," she protests, trying not to smile, "He was so dirty!" She tries to explain. "My mom used this jug of bleach and water to clean things in the kitchen. So, I refilled Bruno's water dish with the water, thinking it would clean him up or something. It was an honest mistake!"

I throw a cushion at her, laughing. "Natalia, you're a pet murderer."

"I was seven."

"In all fairness, they shouldn't have left the bleach where you could reach it," I agree, but that just makes Nero chuckle.

"Natalia climbed up onto the counter to get it from above the stove." There's a sparkle in his eye. "We had to take him to the vet. It cost almost a thousand dollars to save him."

The memory earns laughter from Natalia. "I remember I gave my mom my piggy bank. It had maybe $30 in it. My entire life's savings." She takes the cushion, tosses it at Nero. "You didn't speak to me for a week."

I can see the brightness in his eyes from the memory of it. Our laughter eventually dissipates from the air, and we lapse into silence.

Before the awkwardness sets in, I say, "Nero, I'm starving. What's for supper?" And the spell is broken, and we make our way to the table, his guiding hand resting on the small of my back.

Nero has made something that looks like a casserole, covered with gooey cheese and full of tomato and yes, of course it smells amazing. We sit and when I glace at Natalia, I notice she looks deep in thought, staring at the dish of food that Nero spoons skillfully onto plates, sprinkling pepper and parmesan, the heat of it rising into the air.

"Nero," she says softly, accepting a plate from him. "It looks like the one Zio used to make." She looks conflicted, and I can see that she seems to be replaying some kind of memory over in her head.

"It's his recipe," Nero says, pouring me a glass of water. He gives me a small smile. "My father used to make the best eggplant parmigiana." Oh. That explains it.

"It was a family favourite," Natalia says, digging her fork into it. "Until..." She fades off. I know enough to fill in the blanks. "I haven't had this since..." Her voice sounds small. "Since I was maybe twelve."

It makes my heart hurt to see the way she thinks about it, the weight of the past on her shoulders, the pain and regret.

She continues. "I always used to ask mamma why we never went to see Zio, why he never cooked for us anymore."

It's hard to read the expression on Nero's face, but it seems like he's a little lost in the memory of it too. "She was just trying to protect you," he says eventually, his voice rough, quiet.

Her lips tilt upwards wryly. "I guess it worked, didn't it?" She takes a bite, chews, and her eyes float shut. It's absolutely delicious. But for her, I know it's more than that. After a short pause she whispers, "It tastes the same, Nero."

"It's delicious," I say, and he gifts me a smile.

We eat in silence for a while. I don't know what to say. I don't want to interrupt their reminiscing; it fills the air, and I know they're thinking about it, the years they've lost to fighting and the past they shared together before.

Nero breaks the silence, and there's a warmth to his expression that I'm still not used to, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "Remember in high school, when that kid..." He struggles to remember something. "Whatever his name was. Remember when he backed into your car, left that big dent?"

Natalia's face lights up, a big, happy laugh escapes her. "Randy. Randy Stiller. I turned him down when he asked me to the grad dance." There's a sparkle in her eye. "You and Gabriel and Luca, you cornered him in the hallway the next day." She shakes her head, a hand coming up to her face to stop her laughter. "Gabriel pinned him to the locker, Luca leaned against the door and gave him that look. He almost shit his pants. And you..."

Nero flushes a little, but a smile still dances at the edge of his mouth, a twitch in his sharp jaw. "We did it for you, Nat."

Thinking about Nero way back then makes me so curious.

She looks at me, humor filling her dark eyes. "Nero told him if he didn't apologize and deal with the damage, they'd make sure everyone knew about the time he wet his pants on the ski trip in grade eleven, and they'd tell the principal about how he dealt weed to half the school."

I laugh. "I was expecting a more violent ending to that story." Nero nudges my foot under the table, giving me a dirty look. I nudge him back, and he can't help the little smile that works its way onto those perfect lips, flooding me with warmth.

Natalia laughs too. "The three of them. They used to rule the school. It just took one look, and people would go running in the other direction."

"Why doesn't that surprise me," I tease, and I don't think I've actually seen Nero get embarrassed before, but he looks a little flustered now.

He grumbles, "We didn't actually hurt anyone."

"Okay," Natalia concedes. "They didn't actually hurt anyone, only threatened to." A second later, her eyes go wide. "Oh, except for Mark Jenkins. During football practice? You and Gabriel left him with a black eye and a broken rib." Except, she doesn't sound upset about it.

Nero chuckles a little, darkly. "He deserved it."

Apparently the violent tendencies started young. But, like Natalia, it doesn't alarm me for some reason. If anything, it makes me hot.

"He so did." Natalia looks at me, explains. "This bastard apparently tried to force himself onto a girl at a party when we were in the twelfth grade. He twisted her wrist so bad she had to get a cast. Except, everyone was too scared of him to do anything about it, and there was no proof."

I look at Nero, imagine him, young and handsome and fearless, apparently standing up for other kids on the playground. Hm. "So you were one of the good guys."

"Don't sound so surprised, dolcezza," he says dryly. "I wasn't always..."

Silence. It's heavy, filled with the truth of all the horrible things that have since been done at his hands.

But, eventually, Natalia smiles sadly. "He wasn't always."

And, miraculously, it almost sounds like forgiveness.

***

A/N:

Ah. The past. Nero in high school? Can you imagine?

Let me know what you think of Nero and Natalia's slow (but sure) reunion.

Xoxo Ami

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