Italian Coffee House [BWWM]

- C h a p t e r 34 -

Ciao Bellezza,

Sorry for the painstaking wait. I know it's a late but I hope y'all enjoyed it regardless. Know that I poured my essence into every iota of this chap. I pray my God that you like it.

5k followers. Wow I can't believe it. Can't get enough of you either.*wiggles eyebrows*

Here's the Thirty-fourth installation of Italian Coffee House.

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Ang

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Niccolò's Chocolate House

Chapter 34

*Ada*

To say that we were taken by surprise, would've been vastly understating things. Nothing could quite prepare me for an encounter with my husband's mother. Or the crestfallen look on his sister's face when they finally met after an extended deccenium. Instantly, guilt nipped me at the recollection of our happenings; first, the night of the Gala and more recently, breakfast at the Shannon's cafe. Since then, Niccolò and I had been given countless opportunities to enlighten Krysta but instead we all but skirted it. I didn't fancy withholding such consequential, life-altering details. Especially when it pertained someone I cared so dearly for. If we'd disclosed of the news after our first encounter, news she'd probably want to hear in spite of everything that transpired, she would have been better equipped to handle the situation.

Instead my sister-in-law, the girl who'd become my good friend and one of the few people I loved, took on a disoriented expression. Her azure eyes became glazed with fervent rage and unshed tears. Her hands trembled subtly, her slender fingers raking through the thick ebony shoulder-length hair that adorned her head. Odd that the action conjured up thoughts of my husband and our torrid dalliance. The heated moments we shared the night before. Mentally face-palming myself at the sudden intimate nature of my thoughts, I forced my attention to the matter at hand.

Though they could be described as polar opposites, I did notice the key traits that had developed between Niccolo and Krysta. The simply yet ever-present qualities that showcased the potency of their alliance. They were alike in more ways than they realized. For instances, the way in which they carried themselves.

Krysta approached her mother in a few quick strides with an air of sophistication around her. I followed behind discretely, making sure to keep a few paces away. In our time together, it was hopeless to think that a bond wouldn't otherwise formulate between us. She was such a positive soul and I feed off her warmth like the Sun to algae, and Almighty God knows I needed it. Ultimately, I began to worry after her, like her mother should've. It was my prerogative to seek after her interests, to ensure her safety in every which way possible and at every turn. Our relationship had blossomed into one I'd no doubt cherish for years to come Godwilling. In some ways, Krysta more or less became the baby sister I never had. In others, I was the mother-figure she often needed. I might have been new to the realm of motherhood, but Krysta filled me a sense of hope, an abundance of fate that I would do it right.

Krysta's jaw contorted with passion, her hands formed into fists becoming deathly pale, as she came to a halt mere inches in proximity to her mother's face. Not once did the elder woman recoil, or reveal anything in akin to reverence, which would've likely been the case had it been anyone else. On the contrary, she stood firm in her resolve, unwavering. If only she'd used those traits to take care of her children. It would've saved them a whole lot of heartbreak. Incredible how one act of disregard could turn someone's world upside down. What she didn't know was that Krysta might've looked harmless, but her intimidation could easily match that of her brother's on a good day. She could be the sweetest thing but in the same breathe, defend herself expertly where it was essential.