heatwave | Charles Leclerc | re-writing

Chapter 16

Milan, November 2022 - Victoria Marino

"And we were at the coffee shop, right? And he literally spilled his drink when I told him how I met Charles," I said, trying not to laugh as I relived the moment.

My parents burst out laughing.

Dinner smelled like heaven. My mom had made her famous pasta alla carbonara - divine, as always. Every bite was a hug from the universe.

Meanwhile, Jeremy wasn't even pretending to be part of the conversation. He was vaccuming his food like he hadn't eaten since New Year's. The rest of us just stared, mildly concerned.

"Okay... weird," I said, giving him a side-eye. "Were you fasting for a Vogue cover or what?"

"Don't judge me," he mumbled with a mouthful of pasta. "I've missed your mom's cooking. I'd sell a kidney for this carbonara."

I snorted. "So, what's new around here? You guys up to anything exciting?"

"Still a teacher," my mom said with a smile. "Your father's still engineering the world into a better place. Everything's the same, Milan is still gorgeous, people are still joyful..."

"Where's Francesco?," I asked, cutting her off.

The table quieted.

"Your brother is nowhere to be found," my dad said, a little too casually.

"Amen to that," my mom muttered, stabbing her pasta with renewed force. "Every time he shows up, there's drama, and we end up cleaning up his mess."

Jeremy raised his glass. "I vote we drink to forget that demon ever existed."

"I'm grabbing some beers," my dad announced, standing up and heading to the kitchen like it was a rescue mission.

I leaned toward Jeremy and whispered in his ear, "He knows I hate beer. That's why he always brings it."

Jeremy chuckled. "Iconic passive-aggression."

My dad returned with a handful of bottles and served them around. He poured one for my mom, one for Jeremy, and one for himself - not even asking me.

As predicted.

I got up from the table and went to the fridge. "Guess I'll stick with soda... again."

"That's what you get for being the baby of the family," Jeremy said, raising his bottle.

"I'm the only sane one here," I replied, popping open my can.

And just like that, it felt like I was home again - chaotic, loving, dramatic, mine.

[...]

"Do you wanna come to Abu Dhabi?" I asked, glancing at Jeremy as he lay sprawled on my bed, stomach down, legs swinging in the air like a bored teenager.

"Yeah," he said, chin resting on his arms. "My vacation's over anyway. Back to the glamorous life of babysitting your chaos."

"Okay then," I smiled. "I'll book our flights. We're getting there Thursday."

"I'll handle it," he said, already reaching for his phone. "You just worry about looking fabulous."

"You wanna help me pack?"

"Want is a strong word," he groaned, rolling onto his back. "But yes. I'll help you."

I laughed, dragging my suitcase out of the closet and flipping it open on the floor. "Is it cold there?"

"Technically it's autumn, but it'll still feel like summer. So pack light for the day, and something warmer for the evenings."

"Got it. Let's do this."