In 27 Days

by Alison Gervais

  “Well, he’s gone now,” I said.

  “Let’s go,” Archer said, reaching for the cart. “It looks like we have everything, and I don’t want to stick around and risk running into that creep again.”

  I wholeheartedly agreed.

  It took us about fifteen minutes to work our way through the checkout line and place everything in the shopping bags, and it took us almost another hour to lug everything back to Mama Rosa’s. Archer had been adamant that a cab was “too expensive,” despite my repeated offer to pay for one, so by the time we reached Mama Rosa’s, my arms were aching from having to carry the heavy shopping bags for numerous blocks.

  “Good. You’re back early,” Victoria said as Archer and I hefted the shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter in the coffeehouse. “Now unpack everything.”

  I fought back a groan as I slumped against the counter, massaging my forearm.

  “Okay, fine, but let me at least make us some drinks,” Archer said. “It’s freezing out there.”

  “Fine.” Victoria waved a hand at Archer as she started rummaging through the shopping bags. “Just be quick about it, boy.”

  I shot Archer a grateful smile as he left the kitchen, and then turned to help Victoria sort through the mess of groceries on the counter. Archer returned a few minutes later with two hazelnut lattes, one that I eagerly took, exhaling in relief as the hot drink began to warm me up.

  I was still jittery from the encounter with that man in D’agostino’s, so downing a large amount of caffeine probably wasn’t all that smart, but I hardly cared. I didn’t want to think about what his presence in my life meant, not here with Archer. I’d have to save freaking out for another time.

  When the monstrosity of unloading the groceries was finally done and over with, I had a definite reason as to why I never wanted to work with Victoria Incitti again. The woman made even the toughest drill sergeant look like a pansy. Archer had probably learned all his bossiness from her. I was actually a little relieved when I was given the go-ahead to leave, just so I could go home to a place where no one was yelling at me.

  I had pulled on my coat and was in the process of slinging my bag over my shoulder when Archer turned to me and said, “Oh, by the way? You’re coming to Thanksgiving dinner.”

  He said it so casually, like he was mentioning something about the weather, that I sort of stood there and stared blankly at him.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” Archer didn’t seem to notice my shock as he swung the refrigerator door shut. “You’re coming to Thanksgiving dinner. I meant to tell you earlier, but I forgot.”

  I was utterly baffled.

  “I am?” I said. “Since when?”

  “Since right now,” Archer told me. I couldn’t tell if he was smiling or smirking. “I know you don’t have any other plans. So you’re coming to Thanksgiving dinner with us. Or you’re fired.”

  I was unable to keep back the wide grin that broke out across my face.

  CHAPTER 17

  Thanksgiving, the Incitti Way—12 Days Until

  I was wide awake at what felt like the crack of dawn on Thanksgiving morning. I knew the second I opened my eyes that I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep; I was far too antsy already thinking about dinner later that day. So I dragged myself out of bed and to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee (using beans I’d bought from Mama Rosa’s) and toast a few frozen waffles. Breakfast in hand, I settled down in front of the TV, resigning myself to a morning of watching cartoons while I waited for the afternoon to come. It was a better alternative to fretting about that creepy man who had shown up in D’agostino’s yesterday afternoon. I didn’t want to think about that on a holiday. I knew he had to be connected to Death somehow, but I forced myself not to focus on that just yet. Given the way I’d taken up excessive worrying, I figured he’d circle back around in time. And then I could properly freak out.

  Around two in the afternoon, I left the couch for the shower. I spent a good half hour standing underneath the flow of hot water before I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel, only to stand in my closet for what felt like another half hour. I wasn’t one of those girls who spent ages in front of the mirror every morning getting ready for the day. But when I was faced with the prospect of meeting Archer’s entire extended family, things were a little different.

  In the end, it took me another forty-five minutes before I was finally able to consider myself appropriate to leave, clad in a pair of jeans, a nice brown blouse, and boots. By then it was half past three, and there was no way I’d be able to ride the train and get to Mama Rosa’s on time. A cab would be impossible thanks to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, so I was going to have to wait it out on the train and hope Archer’s family would be understanding about my tardiness.

  Out in the chilly afternoon, I wished Hanson the doorman a Happy Thanksgiving before booking it down the block to the nearest subway entrance.

  I was on the edge of my seat, twisting the ends of my coat between my fingers the whole ride. I had never been to a family gathering like this before, sad as that sounded, and had no idea what to expect. My mom’s parents had passed away when I was little, and she was an only child. The majority of my dad’s side of the family were all down south in Tennessee and weren’t fans of the city, which made get-togethers rare.

  “All right, Hadley,” I muttered to myself, heading up to the front door of the coffeehouse when I arrived. “You can handle this.”

  The drapes were drawn tight over the front windows of the shop, so I didn’t get the chance to see inside before I raised my hand and rapped my knuckles on the door.

  I heard the locks tumble, then the door swung open and I was face-to-face with a boy who had the same familiar features the Incitti family seemed to share, with the hazel eyes and dark hair. From the way his eyes glinted and the impish grin that curled his mouth, I got the impression this boy lived for mischief.

  “Well, hello there,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me. “You must be Hadley. I’m Carlo DiRosario.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking his offered hand.

  “So, are the rumors true? Are you really dating my cousin? I didn’t think he could ever—”

  “Carlo, what are you doing?”

  Carlo was shoved to the side a second later, and then Archer was standing in the doorway, frowning at the two of us.

  “Hey, coz,” Carlo said enthusiastically. “I was just saying hello to Hadley here. You didn’t tell me she was—”

  “Shut your mouth, Carlo.”

  Archer pulled me across the threshold and slammed the door behind me, twisting the locks home again.

  The coffeehouse was the most crowded I had ever seen it before—even on the busiest of days. There was a large group of people buzzing around the long row of pushed-together tables in the middle of the floor, all chattering loudly, mostly in Italian, as they set out plates and cutlery and poured large glasses of wine.

  And then there was an assortment of children running around, screaming and giggling, playing some version of tag.

  This was Archer’s extended family?

  Carlo was rocked back onto his heels as he watched me look around, a wide smirk spreading across his face. He said something with gusto to Archer in Italian that made Archer immediately hit him upside the head and say with a scowl, “Do us all a favor and shut up, won’t you?”

  I opened my mouth to tell Archer I was going to head to the back to drop off my things, but a loud bark of “Carlo!” beat me to the punch.

  A short woman with dark hair pulled back into a tight bun marched over to us, hands on hips, eyes narrowed.

  An apprehensive look crossed Carlo’s face as he quickly took a step back, holding up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Hi, Ma, I was just—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Carlo. Quit antagonizing your cousin,” the woman scolded.

  “And don’t be rude, Archer,” Regina said, suddenly appearing.

 
Both boys were red in the face as they mumbled out various apologies.

  “Oh! Hadley!” Regina smiled brightly when she finally noticed me, and then reached out to hug me tightly. “It’s so good you could come.”

  “Thank you for inviting me,” I said with a smile of my own. And if I hadn’t been invited—or rather, told to come by Archer—I would’ve spent this day alone, shut up in the apartment.

  “This is Hadley?” the other woman said in surprise before pulling me into a hug that was just as tight. “Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard so many good things about you.”

  I stammered out a thanks while the woman held me at an arm’s length, examining me closely.

  “Oddio, you’re beautiful,” she said with another smile. “I can see why Archer likes spending so much time with you.”

  “Zia,” Archer muttered, shooting the woman a reproachful look. “Come on.”

  I felt my cheeks flushing with color. “Um, thank you?”

  “I’m Karin, Archer’s aunt,” the woman said, ignoring her nephew. “And you’ve already met my son Carlo.”

  “Everyone!” Carlo shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “This is Hadley!”

  Silence fell for a moment as several pairs of hazel eyes fixed on me, and then there was a loud shout of “HADLEY!” before I was attacked with so many hugs and kisses, I thought I was going to suffocate. By the time I had been squeezed and had my cheeks kissed about a hundred different times, I was finally introduced to all of Archer’s family in the room.

  Victoria and her late husband Cesario had had four children—Karin, Sofia, Regina, and Vittorio—and between them, they had fourteen more children. Karin and her husband, Art DiRosario, had eight: the twins, Stefan and Augustine, who were the eldest of all the grandchildren and attending college in Upstate New York; Carlo, a freshman in high school; Lauren, who was fourteen-year-old; and then Maria, Georgiana, Joseph, and Gina, who were all anywhere from ages three to eight.

  Sofia and her husband, Ben Orsini, had three: Mia, a seventh grader; Stephanie, who was nine; and then William, who had just learned how to walk.

  Then there was Regina, with Archer and Rosie.

  And the last Incitti, Vittorio, had an adorable three-month-old son named Isaac with his very pretty wife, Anna.

  “Hadley! Hi, Hadley!” Rosie came skipping through the kitchen as I hung up my coat and bag on the hooks in the back-room, and she was followed by a group of kids whose names I had just been told but couldn’t put a face to. “Wanna play sardines?”

  “Yeah! Wanna play sardines?” a little girl with dark curls asked, attaching herself to my leg. “Sardines is so much fun!”

  I had no idea what kind of game sardines was, so I said instead, “But aren’t we supposed to be having dinner soon?”

  The little girl currently swinging from my arm stuck her lip out in an outrageous pout. “Come on! Please?”

  “Yeah, please?”

  I was then suddenly mauled with hugs and loud pleadings to play whatever sardines was.

  “You guys, really, we’re about to eat dinner!” I managed to force out through bursts of laughter.

  “But there’s always time for sardines!” one of the boys—Joseph, I think—said loudly.

  “All right, enough!” A girl with her midnight hair done up in braids came marching through the kitchen, a hand on her hip, looking suspiciously like a younger version of Archer’s aunt Karin. “Leave Hadley alone. It’s time to go wash up for dinner.”

  She was met with instant protests. “Aw, come on!

  “Do we really?”

  “But it’s sardines!”

  “No buts!” the girl ordered, jabbing a finger toward the water closet—sized bathroom in the corner. “It’s time to wash up for dinner. Now.”

  The group of kids obediently stomped their way over to the bathroom, grumbling and complaining under their breaths.

  The whole scene was just too cute, I was unable to resist calling, “But I promise I’ll play sardines with you all later!” after them, to delighted bouts of giggles.

  “Sorry about them,” the girl said with a sheepish smile, walking up to me. “They can be a little overwhelming sometimes.”

  “No, not at all,” I said quickly. “I don’t mind.”

  “I’m Lauren,” the girl said, sticking out a hand for me to shake. “We met just a few minutes ago.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Nice to meet you again.”

  Lauren smiled again, showing off bright-white teeth. “You know, at first I was expecting you to be a total Blair Waldorf wannabe. It’s nice to see that you’re not.”

  I was stunned into silence. “Um . . .”

  “Archer told me your family was rich,” she explained. “I figured if you live in New York and you have money . . .” She trailed off, letting me fill in the blanks.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” I said with a grin.

  Lauren shrugged. “Nah, it’s not a bad thing. If you weren’t cool, Archer would never be seen with you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my cousin is kind of a hermit. The select few people he graces with his presence are normally pretty important to him.”

  I wanted to believe that what Lauren said was true, that I was important to Archer, or at least that I was getting close.

  “Wanna help carry out the food?” Lauren asked, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder to the fridges and the counters with trays and plates of dishes stacked a mile high. Regina, Karin, and Victoria had already begun to carry out a few.

  “Sure,” I said. “I’d love to.”

  For the past few years, I had spent my Thanksgivings either at the dining table at Taylor’s apartment or by myself with a meal I’d ordered from some restaurant. So, really, I’d never had what one could call a “traditional, sit-down, family-packed Thanksgiving dinner.”

  To say I was surprised by the display of food spread out across the tables would be putting it lightly. I was absolutely dumbfounded.

  There were plates upon plates of succulent roast turkey, honey-glazed ham, potato salad, buttery rolls, stuffing, steamed vegetables, cranberry sauce, and then every classic Italian dish you could think of. I wanted to try it all.

  “All right, everyone!” Victoria said loudly over the chattering and laughter. “Sit down. It’s time to eat.”

  Everyone immediately scrambled for a seat.

  I managed to grab an empty chair by the plate of ham I had my eye on, eager to grab a few slices, and Archer ended up dropping into the seat to the right of me, Carlo on my left.

  “Bow your heads for grace,” Victoria said.

  I bit the inside of my cheek, determined not to blush as Archer took my hand lightly in his own, looking anywhere but at me. Grace was in Italian, which I didn’t even attempt to understand, so I just silently said a quick prayer of thanks of my own.

  “Well, what are you all waiting for?” Victoria said once the prayer was finished. “Dig in.”

  Archer quickly dropped my hand, and I busied myself with piling a few slices of ham on my plate, thankful for the distraction.

  The table settled into a lull of conversation as everyone began to eat. Regina and her sisters had dived into conversation about their children and their antics, not caring that their children were sitting just a few seats away. Vittorio and his brothers-in-law were engaged in some animated talk about poker. The younger kids, toward the end of the table, just seemed to laugh the entire time.

  “So, Hadley.” Sofia leaned across the table toward me, smiling, the moment I finished the rest of the mashed potatoes on my plate. “Tell us a little about yourself.”

  I felt my cheeks warm as several pairs of eyes flicked over to me.

  “Um . . .” I bit my lip, embarrassed to be put in the spotlight so suddenly. “I’m not really sure what to say.”

  “Anything,” Sofia said. “I’m interested in knowing how you met Archer.”

  “Oh, well, we—”

  “We had freshma
n English together.” Archer cut me off briskly as he cut up pieces of turkey for Rosie. “End of story.”

  “Fascinating,” Vittorio said, joining in. “But what’s the deal with you two?”

  I felt my stomach drop. I had to remind myself this was bound to come up sooner or later. “I don’t . . .” I cleared my throat nervously. “There’s no deal.”

  Of course there actually was a deal, but I was pretty sure Vittorio knew nothing about the contract I’d signed with Death.

  Vittorio looked unconvinced. “Really.”

  “We’re not dating, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Archer said flatly. “We’re just friends.”

  My heart did this little jump, because that had been the first time Archer had ever called me his “friend,” but I quickly added, “Right. Just friends.”

  “Wait. You two aren’t dating?” Carlo eagerly jumped into the conversation. “Does that mean you’re on the market, Hadley? I’ve always had a thing for brunettes.”

  I choked on a breath of air, my face flaming hotter as I turned horrified eyes on Carlo. Was he trying to mortify me?

  “Carlo!” Half the table shouted in protest. “Show some respect!”

  Archer’s arm shot out so quickly to smack Carlo on the head that I never actually saw the action, just Carlo wincing and rubbing at his scalp. By this time, I’d sunk down so low in my seat that I’d almost disappeared underneath the table.

  “Boys!” Victoria’s sharp voice carried down the table to us. “You’d do best to watch your mouths. Your cousins and siblings are down there. Set a good example. As punishment, you two can go ahead and get started washing dishes.”

  “Oh, come on, really? I—”

  “Get to it,” Victoria barked. “You listen to your elder, boys.”

  Archer shot Carlo a glare before he shoved back from the table and stood, grabbing at empty plates. Carlo followed suit, snickering under his breath as he carried off an armful of wine glasses to the kitchen.

  “I apologize for my son’s behavior, Hadley,” Karin said, giving me an exasperated look. “He gets his foot in his mouth more often than not.”