Page 21 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Twenty

Isabella

I enter the café and spot Andrea before he sees me. He’s at the window table he reserved for us yesterday, typing on his phone.

He’s dressed in jeans and a navy sweater. No designer labels or gold watch here. His hair is a little messy in a casual, I-didn’t-try-too-hard way, and his sneakers look like they’ve seen a few dog walks.

Okay…

Not like the men in my world, who love to flaunt their ill-gotten wealth.

He looks up, sees me approaching, and smiles. Friendly. Open.

I slow near the table. How on earth do I greet him?

Handshake? Too formal.

Cheek kiss? Too intimate.

Wave? Too weird.

Nothing? Rude.

Oh God, what do normal people do on a first date?

He stands when he sees me approach, a smile already forming like he’s genuinely glad I came.

“You look like your picture,” he says, offering a small, warm smile. “Only… real. ”

I smile back, a little uncertain.

“You too. But… taller.”

We hover for a beat. That awkward what-do-we-do-now moment hits hard. I go for a handshake just as he leans in for a cheek kiss.

We collide.

My hand bumps his chest. His cheek grazes the side of my head, and I mutter something that might be sorry or please kill me now.

He pulls back, laughing softly. “Okay. That was a strong start.”

I laugh too, trying to play it off. “Just making sure we cover all greeting styles in one go.”

He gestures to the seat he just got up from. “Preheated,” he quips, sliding into the chair across from me.

That’s when it gives out.

There’s a loud crack, and I watch, stunned, as a leg snaps off clean. Andrea drops like a stone, landing on the floor with a graceless thud.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, but a stunned giggle still bursts out.

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

He lies there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling like it personally betrayed him. Then he props himself on one elbow, mock-serious.

“I’d like to formally report an attempt on my life.”

The giggle becomes a laugh. A real one. The kind that bubbles up before you can stop it.

He grins, rolling to the side and pushing himself up to stand.

“Well, that was one way to break the ice.”

A flustered waitress rushes over, apologizing before she even reaches us.

“I’m so sorry. This has never happened before. We even had a carpenter in this morning to check every chair and table after a few complaints about wobbly ones yesterday. Again, I’m so sorry. I’ll bring over a new chair right away.”

The words rush out of her in a single breath, and before either of us can respond, she’s already whisked the broken chair away and disappeared.

Andrea dusts himself off, pats the surviving chairs like they’re untrustworthy, and eases down onto one with exaggerated care.

“I swear I’ve never broken anything on a first date.”

“Well, you’ll be hard to forget now,” I say, struggling not to laugh again. “You really know how to make an impression.”

He grins. “Go big or go home, right?”

The waitress appears beside our table with a replacement, then pulls a tablet from her apron.

“What can I get you?” she asks, still frazzled, offering a tight smile.

“I’ll have an americano, no sugar,” Andrea says.

“Cappuccino, please,” I add. “Whole milk.”

She taps the orders into the iPad, nods, and disappears toward the counter.

“Not oat milk?” Andrea teases.

“God, no. I can’t do the fake milks. They taste like they’ve given up on life.”

He laughs. “Not even soy?”

I shudder. “It coats your tongue like betrayal. Absolutely not.”

“Noted. No soy milk. Ever,” he chuckles. “Anything else I should know to avoid?”

We fall into an easy conversation, the initial awkwardness melting away like morning fog. Andrea is surprisingly good company. Easygoing. Attentive.

Just when I’m about to relax completely, my phone buzzes.

Once.

Then again.

And again.

I try to ignore it, but the buzzing is insistent.

“You’d better check that,” Andrea suggests. “Someone is clearly trying to get in touch with you.”

“I’m sorry. I swear no one usually calls me.”

I cringe. Does that make me sound like a loser?

I pull out my phone and frown.

Unknown number.

Another buzz .

“Your verification code is 042311.”

What?

A pause.

“Security alert: New login detected.”

“I think my phone is spasming,” I say, still frowning. Mercury must definitely be in retrograde.

The buzzing continues.

“I’m going to turn it off,” I say, chuckling.

Seriously, what’s going on today?

Andrea leans back, watching me with a grin. “Good call. Before it starts smoking or bursts into flames.”

I smirk as I hold down the power button. “If I vanish mid-date, blame the phone.”

“Well, that would make for a great story, but I’d be sad if we didn’t get a second date.”

My heart gives a little jump. He wants to see me again.

Despite all the little disasters, this is going so well.

I smile, searching for a reply, but the drinks arrive before I can speak.

“An americano for you, sir,” the waitress says, setting Andrea’s cup in front of him.

She turns to me and places a massive mug down that practically swallows the saucer beneath it.

“And for you, an extra-large soy latte.”

I blink at it, about to point out the mistake when I notice the froth.

My heart stutters.

A butterfly.

Perfectly etched into the foam. Still and delicate, like it’s waiting for me to react.

My stomach pulls tight, a rush of heat prickling the back of my neck.

Luca … I hear him in my head, that deep, rumbly voice calling me farfalla .

Andrea leans in. “That’s… not what you ordered. ”

I blink hard, dragging my eyes from the cup to him, forcing a smile that’s thin and brittle.

“No,” I manage, feeling rattled. “It’s not.”

He chuckles. “And after you just told me how much you hate soy.”

Turning to the waitress, he says, “She ordered a cappuccino. With whole milk.”

The waitress appears genuinely confused. “I remember now… but I swear that’s not what was in the system. Not sure what’s going on today. I’m so sorry.”

She lifts the cup away. The butterfly shifts, one wing dragging through the foam as the mug tilts. Then it’s gone.

“I’ll be right back with your cappuccino.”

A heaviness settles over me like a fog I didn’t see coming. I didn’t want to think about Luca today. Not here. Not while I’m sitting across from someone who’s trying. Someone I’m trying with.

Andrea’s voice cuts through the fog. “Okay. I’ve embarrassed myself falling through a chair. Want to hear about the time I nearly got stranded on a volcano?”

I swallow, dragging myself back to the moment. “Please say it wasn’t active.”

“Mount Etna. Very active. Very angry-looking. I took a wrong turn up a goat trail because I followed what I thought was a sign. Spoiler: it was a painted rock.”

I blink at him. “You didn’t.”

“I did. A whole herd of goats blocked the path. I had to reverse downhill while their leader glared at me like I’d insulted his mother.”

A laugh slips out before I can stop it.

“What happened?”

“Thankfully, a local shepherd showed up. I didn’t have cash on me, so I bribed him with two bars of Swiss chocolate I’d bought at a gas station to get me off the mountain. The man saved my life. I owe him a statue.”

This time, my laugh is real. It escapes easily, loosening the weight in my chest .

The tension melts away. Andrea’s stories and gentle humor pull me back.

We talk some more, drink more coffee, and eat cake. It’s easy. Fun. The kind of lightness I haven’t experienced in ages.

I’m actually having a good time.

The more I sit with Andrea, the more comfortable I feel. His presence is calm, no pressure, no agenda. Just… nice.

Yeah, I could see myself spending more time with him.

We wrap up, and Andrea reaches for the bill with a confident smile. “Let me.”

He hands the waitress his card. She disappears, but returns a moment later, apologetic.

“I’m sorry, sir. It was declined.”

Andrea’s brow creases. “That’s strange. I used it this morning, and it worked fine. Can you try again?”

She does.

Same result.

He pulls out a backup card with a sheepish smile.

“Great. First I break a chair, now my card fails on me. I’m really nailing this first impression thing.”

The second card works.

We both stand, and he offers to walk me to my bicycle. Andrea kisses me on the cheek, and this time we manage to avoid the headbutt.

We make plans to see each other again in a few days.

And I smile… wholeheartedly. I do want to spend more time with him.

Today was imperfect in all the right ways.

Once Andrea disappears around the corner, I unlock my bicycle and push off slowly, the afternoon sun warming my back.

My thoughts drift as I pedal.

About the butterfly. The drink I didn’t order. The collapsing chair. The buzzing phone.

All the things that went wrong.

And somehow, those exact things made the date more real. Like I wasn’t in some gilded cage anymore.

Like this was mine.