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“Yes, please.”
As she heated the food, I retrieved silverware and drinks, setting everything out on the bar. The snow was still coming down at a decent clip, with at least twelve centimeters already on the ground. “This cottage needs a fireplace,” I told her.
“We thought about it, but it was too much money.” She set one plate on the island, then put another in the microwave. “We built the second deck off the master bedroom instead.”
“Does your house have a fireplace?”
“No. But your brother will be warm, if that’s what you’re worried about. The heat won’t go out.”
I took a swig from my water. “I’m not worried about Maz. He can take care of himself.”
“Where is your sister staying?”
“With Maz. At your house.”
Her lips parted on a swift intake of breath as she whipped around to face me. “Excuse me?”
“Is this a problem?”
“Well, it would’ve been nice if you’d asked me. Considering it’s my house and everything.”
My brain tripped over her words. I wasn’t used to asking anyone’s permission, but this woman deserved my respect. Blood rushed in my ears, embarrassment coursing through me. “You are right, of course. Perdonami, bella. I hope you don’t mind.”
She shook her head, clearly exasperated. “Start eating. You don’t need to wait on me.”
I had manners, so I didn’t touch my silverware. When she finished reheating the other plate, she sat next to me and kissed my cheek. “Eat, baby.”
I placed one hand on her thigh and started eating with the other. Maz had cooked one of my favorite dishes, a monkfish piccata in a lemony butter sauce. There was also crab carbonara spaghetti. I was in heaven. Even reheated, both were delicious.
“I didn’t think I’d like crab pasta, but your brother knows what he’s doing,” Maggie said. “I’ll be sad when he leaves.”
I would also hate to see Maz go. Though we hadn’t spent much time together here, it was nice having him around. But I knew he wanted to return to his ragazza, so I wouldn’t push him to stay. “Has Michael started looking for a new chef?”
She chewed and swallowed. “I’m not sure. I’ve been so busy these past few days that I haven’t asked. Do you know when Massimo intends to leave?”
“No, but I can ask him tomorrow.”
“It would be great if he could stay at least through Valentine’s Day. That’s one of our busiest nights of the year.”
“I’m sure he would be amenable, if you’re willing to put him up a little longer at your house.”
“Oh, right. This place is booked.” She twirled pasta on her fork. “Are you?—?”
When she didn’t finish her thought, I squeezed her leg. “Am I, what?”
“Are you going back to Toronto before then?”
“Yes.”
“Cool, cool.” The way she said it implied anything butcool.
“Would you like for me to stay longer?” I couldn’t, but it would be nice to know what she was thinking.
“That’s up to you,” she hedged, not meeting my eye as she brought a bite of monkfish to her mouth.
“I’m asking what you want.”
“Well, I want a billion dollars and world peace. But we don’t always get what we want.”