Don Vito's Pizzeria was without a doubt the coolest restaurant I'd ever been to. It was a little hole-in-the-wall joint, but it attracted enough customers to be perpetually crowded on the weekends.

The place was dimly lit with old fashioned gas lamps attached to the walls. There were pictures of all sorts and sizes, some in black and white, some captioned in Italian or English, that covered every possible inch of remaining space on the walls. The black and white checkered floors looked pretty authentic, like they had once covered the floors in some 50's diner.

Down the narrow entrance hall was a big counter topped with an old, clunky cash register that closely resembled the one in Mama Rosa's Coffee House. Tacked up to the wall above the counter was a huge poster from the movieThe Godfather, displaying Marlon Brando in all his glory as Don Vito.

I'll admit the poster was pretty cool.

When all nineteen of the Incitti family - plus their guest, me - filed in through the doors, the old guy sitting at the counter gave a shout of surprise and jumped to his feet.

"Ah! The Incitti family!" he said excitedly. "It's been a while!"

The guy had a very thick Italian accent and looked like a shoemaker. His hair was starch white, what little beard he had was the same color, and he was wearing a checkered button down shirt that didn't match the atmosphere of the restaurant at all.

"Ciao, Emilio," Victoria greeted him. "It certainly has been a while, eh?"

So I was guessing the Incitti family knew this man very well, considering the old guy immediately shouted, "Andrea! Ophelia! Clear space for the Incitti family!"

Whoever Andrea and Ophelia were must have jumped into action, because the guy Victoria called Emilio gave a delighted laugh and clapped his hands together.

"I hope you don't mind the intrusion, Emilio," Sophia said loudly as she fought her way to the front of the crowd. "But the family's in for the weekend."

"Nonsense, nonsense," Emilio laughed, waving a hand. "Any family of Caesario Incitti are always welcome here!"

I was guessing that Caesario Incitti was Archer's grandfather, Victoria's late husband.

"Oh, and look here, the bella Regina!" Emilio continued, looking delighted to see Regina. "It's been a long time since you've last been here, caro."

"I know," Regina agreed. "We would visit more often, but running the coffee house takes up most of our time."

Emilio nodded understandingly. "I bet, I bet. No matter. Ah, what's the matter, principessa? Did you get hurt?" He was talking to June, who was being held tightly by Regina.

June nodded miserably. "I fell through a porch."

"Oh, I am very sorry. That's no good," Emilio tsked, shaking his head. "I'll make sure you get an extra bowl of spamone after dinner. How does that sound?"

June gave a small smile. "Grazie, nonno."

I shifted awkwardly on my feet, feeling out of place here, just like I had at Thanksgiving dinner. I was more at ease and comfortable with Archer's family now, but meeting friends of the Incittis was something different.

Emilio moved about the jumble of us, greeting the adults and bending down to pinch the younger kid's cheeks and exclaim about how big they were all getting. When he reached me - and Archer, who was slouched against the wall - he looked surprised and bemused at the same time.

"Oh? And who are you, bella signora?" Emilio asked, giving me a pleasant smile.

"Hadley Jamison," I said, grinning politely.

Emilio reached out and vigorously shook my hand. "I am Emilio Balducci, the owner of this splendid establishment."

"Nice to meet you."

Emilio laughed loudly. "And you, caro." He turned to Archer next and his smile widened. "Archer, e 'la tua ragazza? Lei è molto carina."

I had absolutely no idea what Emilio just said, but it made Archer flush just the brightest bit and he looked slightly embarrassed.

"No," Archer answered. "She's not."

Emilio looked disappointed. "Ah, well. Young love, you know. Always changing."

And with that, he whisked away again, going to speak to Vittorio.

I turned to Archer and stared at him wordlessly.

He got what I was silently asking.

"He asked me if you were my girl," he muttered, refusing to meet my eye.

"Oh," I said. Oh was a pretty stupid thing to say, but that was all I managed to get out.

Suddenly I was just as embarrassed as he was.

God must have been on my side tonight, because we were all ushered off to our seats a moment later. Emilio lead us through the packed restaurant like he was leading a calvary charge, all the way to a series of what had to be at least three tables shoved together in the middle of the restaurant.

All eyes were on us as we took our seats, as if that wasn't bad enough.

Invaribly, I ended up next to Archer again, and this time, it was Mia that ended up beside me. Thankfully, not Carlo.

A glass of ice water was sitting in front of me on the table, as well a scratched plate and a set of silverware.

"Aren't we going to need menus?" I asked Archer, lowering my voice.

"Silly girl," Archer sighed, rolling his eyes. "One does not simply use menus at Don Vito's Pizzeria."

"He's right," Mia cut in. "We've been coming here for years. We know what to order."

I looked back to Archer, and he shrugged in agreement. "What can I say? The girl's right."

For once, I just decided to go with it. The entire family, like usual, started babbling at each other in patchy conversations in Italian and English almost the second we were all seated.

"Hi, Archer!"

I glanced around in surprise and saw a very pretty girl standing close behind Archer's chair. She had long, dark hair, a devious smile, and the same bright eyes as Emilio Balducci. And she obviously knew what she was doing.

Archer gave an easy smile at the girl standing behind his chair. "Hey, Ophelia. Long time no see."

This was Ophelia? I was expecting some timid middle aged woman with red hair and glasses. Not some girl who carried herself like she was some Roman goddess.

"I know!" Ophelia agreed, a little too loudly. "My God, you look so different now!" She started babbling at Archer in Italian like they were old friends.

The girl was probably a waitress, and yet she was just standing here, having this animated conversation with Archer like it was nothing. Archer replied in Italian, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed air. He didn't seem bothered by this girl's overly friendly behavior.

Who was this girl?

I got this weird, hot feeling in the pit of my stomach as I watched the girl lean against the table beside him, crossing her arms, still keeping up a pleasant conversation with Archer.

I didn't know what it was I was feeling, but I had a pretty good idea what it was.

When Ophelia gave a starlet movie laugh and reached over to slap playfully at Archer's arm, I became very clear of what this feeling was.

I was jealous. I was freaking jealous.

As if she were reading my thoughts, Ophelia glanced over at me, like she'd just realized I was now sitting next to Archer.

"Oh?" She arched an eyebrow, her face going stiff. "Who's your friend, Archer?"

"Hadley," I said, cutting Archer off. "Hadley Jamison."

"Hadley," Ophelia repeated flatly. Her lips curled into a sneer when she said my name, and I decided right then and there that I was never going to like this girl. "What an unusual name. You know, I think I read somewhere that Hadley means 'wheat field'. I think it suits you, since you do look kind of pasty and everything. No offense, by the way."

Huh. Never heard that one before. Offense taken.

"Oh, really?" I said pleasantly. "And how has Hamlet been lately?"

Archer gave a choked laugh into his glass of water and turned wide eyes on me. I thought he was pissed off at my rather dumb comment, but I could see amusement in his hazel eyes that hadn't been there before.

"Like I haven't heard that one before," Ophelia muttered loudly, rolling her eyes. "Anyways...what can I get you to drink, Archer?"

"Sprite for me," Archer said. "Hadley?"

Ophelia made a point of not looking at me as she waited to write down my drink order. I sat there and twiddled my thumbs, pretending to think long and hard about what to order. It was slightly amusing to see Ophelia's distaste when I said, "Oh, no drink for me, thanks. Water is fine."

Ophelia stalked off without a word to take everyone else's order.

I gnawed on my lower lip to keep from bursting into laughter. So sure, I hadn't been exactly nice and jealousy wasn't a becoming trait, but for the rest of these nine days, Archer was mine. I wasn't willing to share him with anybody.

I bit back a sigh. I was starting to sound kind of weird.

"Jealous, are we?"

I glanced over at Archer, looking sheepish. "No. Why ever would you think that?"

The corners of Archer's lips curled into a smirk. "I knew you liked me, Hadley, but I didn't know you liked me that much."

My jaw dropped, my eyes widening. "That wasn't funny, Archer! I - "

Archer cut me off with a self satisfied look and a chuckle of laughter, reaching forward to take a sip of water.

I shut my mouth and kept silent. It was better not to embarrass myself further.

Apparently the Incitti family had been coming to Don Vito's Pizzeria for so long that they all knew what the best things on the menu were to order. Victoria wasted no time in barking at Ophelia and a timid looking girl with stringy brown hair - Andrea, most likely - that we were all going to want two extra large vegetable pizzas, one extra large pizza with the works, two extra large cheeses, and then one extra large pepperoni. Oh, and also four baskets of breadsticks.

"Holy shit," I muttered, glancing over at Archer. "You guys normally order this much food?"

Archer shrugged, lounging his chair. "I don't know if you've noticed that all of the people in this family tend to eat like pigs."

Actually, I had noticed that the family tended to go through a lot of food. But still. I couldn't understand how the women - Regina, Sophia, Karin - could eat like they did and still be as skinny as twigs. Must be Italian metabolism.

"You're not silently counting calories in your head, are you?" Archer asked, giving me a wry smile.

"No!" I scoffed. "Please. I don't count calories. I eat what I want when I want."

Archer raised an eyebrow. "And how much do you weigh, then?"

"Archer!" Mia gasped, glaring at her cousin. "You don't just go around asking girls how much they weigh!"

I had to agree with Mia on this one.

"So?" Archer said blankly. "I don't care. You've got to weigh a buck ten soaking wet, if that, Hadley. I don't see what the big deal is."

I pressed my lips together and refrained from saying anything. I actually weighed 107 pounds, which was exactly right for a girl of my height. Archer didn't need to know that, though.

"Hn." He gave me a rather amused look before Carlo engaged him in an animated discussion across the table.

As soon as I suspected Archer wasn't listening anymore, I turned to Mia and said, "Who the hell is Ophelia?"

Mia smirked, a devious glint in her eyes. "So there is something going on with you and Archer?"

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, so we made out a few times."

Mia's smirk grew and it was kind of scary how eerily similiar her mannerisms were to Archer's. "Ophelia is Emilio's granddaughter. She and Archer used to play together when they were little. Emilio and our granddad used to be business partners, so they'd get together quite frequently with their families."

Huh. Who would have thought? Archer had a childhood sweetheart.

"But I wouldn't worry about Ophelia," Mia continued, lowering her voice as she leaned towards me. "She's kind of a bitch, and she only wants Archer because she can't have him."

I certatinly knew about wanting what you couldn't have.

"Fancy that," I sighed, staring down at my hands.

And that was the end of discussing Ophelia Balducci.

When the pizza finally arrived, my stomach was growling with hunger and I was sick and tired of listening to Carlo insist on talking to Archer about which bra sizes were more flattering on certain girls. Then there was Georgiana, who kept crying anytime John attempted to wipe breadstick crumbs off her face. Michael refused to get off of Mia's lap, and Portia didn't want to get out from underneath the table.

If I had been their mother, I certainly would have been a little mortified at their behavior. But I was just an innocent bystander and could find a little humor in the whole thing. It was downright hilarious, even if nobody else agreed with me.

"Here," Archer grunted, unceremoniously dumping a slice of piping hot cheese pizza onto my plate. "You like cheese, don't you?"

"It's fine," I answered, glaring at him.

He paid that no mind. Never mind the fact that I had gotten cheese splattered on my shirt sleeve.

The pizza had better be pretty damn good.

There was something different about tonight. I didn't know what it was. I wasn't sure if I even wanted to know what it was. Something was just different.

I was starting to think it was paranoia on my part that I was more aware of Archer than I ever had been before.

He was sitting beside me, but he was blazingly warm. I could practically feel the heat radiating off of him. And he smelt really, really good, too. Like smoke and mint and something heady. It was enough to make my head start spinning.

I probably looked like an idiot - trying to eat pizza while internally having a conniption. I had even brought the slice of pizza up to my mouth to take a bite and ended up missing, instead smearing cheese on my face. Thankfully nobody saw that.

Still. I was freaking out to the tenth degree and I didn't even know why.

My heart started pounding whenever Archer looked over at me, making it seem like I was about to start hyperventilating and pass out.

Maybe it was because I'd just been reminded that I wanted to be with Archer badly and I couldn't.

Good grief, I told myself silently. Get a grip.

But when Archer's fingers brushed against mine when we both reached for the same slice of pizza, I knew I was so far from getting a grip. He'd barely even touched me, and already my stomach was twisting into knots, my heart was pounding, and I didn't need to be looking to know my face was as red as a freaking pepperoni.

I quickly snatched my hand away from Archer's and sat back, letting him have the pizza, but not before he glanced back at me. The look on his face wasn't sarcastic or rude or anything. It looked like maybe...he'd felt the same I thing I had.

I had to hold myself back from dropping my head onto the table.

I barely had nine days left, and instead of figuring something out to help him, what was I doing? Thinking about my girlish feelings for him. If I'd never needed advice before, it was certainly now.

But at least the pizza was delicious, right?

"Attention! Everybody, can I have your attention!"

"Oy! Everyone, shut the hell up!"

Regina turned her eyes on Carlo and gave him a disapproving look. "Thank you, Carlo."

Carlo gave a thumbs up in Regina's direction. "No problem, auntie."

Carlo was immediately whapped upside the head by the nearest adult.

"Now that I have everyone's attention," Regina said, rolling her eyes. "I have an annoucement to make."

I leaned forward in my chair, digging my fingernails into my palms. This annoucement had to be about the case and her talk with my dad, right? What else could she have an annoucement to make about?Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Archer looking just as tense as I was at the moment.

I thought he would have known the outcome of Regina's talk with my dad, but then he hadn't had any time alone with Regina since we left the city last night, right?

"I'm sure you've all heard the news that Patrick requested a retrial," Regina began, her voice trembling.

Those words were enough to get everyone's attention. Not one person around the table was speaking - even the little kids. They must have known who Patrick was, even if they were young.

"But Hadley here was kind enough to arrange a meeting with her father, Kenneth Jamison. And I'm pleased to announce that Patrick has no case whatsoever."

"Oh, thank God," I sighed loudly, slumping back in my chair.

Mia looked just as relieved as she made the sign of the cross in thanks. I saw a few of the other women doing the same thing, too. I made a mental note to pray more often. It would probably do me good, wouldn't it?

"As fantastic as that is," Victoria said loudly, drowning out everyone's voices. "What did Kenneth Jamison say was the reason, Regina?"

"According to Kenneth, at the time of Patrick's trial, he was given a fair and just trial and everything in court was run according to the book," Regina said. "Just because his defense attorney has a serious medical condition now doesn't reflect anything back on five years ago. Kenneth said that even if he did win an appeal, he would have been convicted again. There's just too much evidence collected against him."

Regina looked over at me then and gave me a smile that made her seem years younger. Seeing her smiling in such a way, I could see why Chris Morales - even if I hadn't known him - had fallen in love with her. She was beautiful, inside and out.

"Thank you, Hadley," Regina said. "If it weren't for you getting your dad to talk to us, we wouldn't be here this weekend, having this celebration dinner."

"Thank God!" Carlo exclaimed, raising his glass of soda in the air. "To Hadley!"

I watched in amazement as every person seated around the table took their glasses of water or soda or wine and raised them towards me.

"To Hadley," the table said in unison.

My face was flaming red with embarrassment. I managed to mutter out a "No, really, it's fine," without feeling too bad.

The only one who hadn't spoken was Archer. He was a little late in raising his glass, but he still said, "To Hadley," in a soft voice, giving me an intense look as he glanced over at me.

"It was nothing," I said, gripping my water glass tightly. "I wanted to do it."

"All the same, Hadley," John said. "You've helped out this family more than you think."

Staring around at all of them and how grateful they all seemed to be just because of a conversation with my dad, I realized they were all probably the best people I was ever going to meet. And as much as these past two weeks had been completely crazy, I was hard pressed to take them back.

Without thinking about it, I reached out and laced my fingers through Archer's underneath the table, giving his hand a light squeeze. I breathed a little sigh of relief when he didn't shake my hand off or anything. He actually returned the squeeze lightly, his hand very warm against my own.

I looked over at him, not sure if he was alright or not. His bright hazel eyes met my own and then he gave a half grin before mouthing "Thank you."