This may sound crazy, but I’m a nervous wreck about introducing Daniella to Nonna, being that Nonna means so much to me.

I value her opinion more than anyone else’s.

Yet it’s funny, Daniella looks more nervous than I am right now. Or maybe it’s just pure hunger, having barely touched any of the pastries this morning. As expected, she looks hotter than ever. Tight-fitting jeans—and I unashamedly caught myself admiring how they perfectly caress her rump—along with a plunging neckline top, which leaves a tasteful amount of cleavage visible to my hungry-for-her eyes.

Thank goodness I’ll be busy with Fashion Show and Lingerie Ball planning activities. If I didn’t have those to distract me for the next ten days, I don’t think I’d be able to stand being around her so long without the two of us—

“So this is Nonna’s place, huh?” Daniella asks, putting an end to my internal meltdown.

“Yep. I’ve tried to get her to move to a more metropolitan area, but she loves this house. And actually, I do too. It’s country-like, faraway from those spectators I try so hard to stay hidden from,” I explain as the two of us walk up the cobblestone steps leading up to the front door.

She nods, arms folded, still looking incredibly beside herself.

“You okay? You look—”

“Yes,” she interjects, “I think I’m just hungry. And tired.”

“Right. Well, Nonna is a remarkable cook and will certainly make sure you get your fill. It’s the Italian in her.”

As we approach the front door, I feel my heart beat out of my chest.

Get a hold of yourself, man—they are going to hit it off.

“Nonna,” I shout out, after opening the door. “I told you to keep the door locked.”

Women. Sometimes they never listen.

I help Daniella out of her coat and hang it on the hook by the door alongside mine. “She never locks the door in the daytime. I wish she’d listen to me—stubborn as most Italian women.”

Daniella nods and I can tell she’s surveying the house. It’s quaint and completely old-fashioned—and all Nonna.

I grab Daniella’s hand and lead her to the kitchen. “I’ve gotta admit. I’m nervous and don’t know why. Maybe it’s because this is a first for me. Introducing someone—a woman—to Nonna.”

Daniella frowns. “And why is that?”

“Because no one has been—”

“Antonio? Is that you? Mi sembrava di aver sentito il mio nipote preferito.”

“Yes, it’s me. And, of course, I’m your favorite. I am, after all, your only grandson.”

The clip-clop of shoes pound the tile floor, then Nonna appears from the kitchen, a wooden spoon in her hand, and she immediately embraces me.

Daniella’s eyes widen and a smile consumes her entire face. “Wait. Did you say, grandson? Nonna is your grandma?”

I pull away from my seventy-year-old grandma and chuckle. “Of course, she’s my grandma. Anyway, Nonna this is Daniella…Daniella, this is Nonna—which in Italian means Grandma.”

Daniella beams with delight as she pulls Nonna close and gives her a warm hug. “Oh, Nonna, you have no idea how happy I am to meet you.”

Nonna pulls back, rubbing her hands along the side of Daniella’s arms, giving her a sizeable once-over. She’s much shorter than Daniella is in her high-heeled boots. “Signorina, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She turns her head to face me. “You’re right, nipote. She’s quite stunning.”

I look away, embarrassed. Perhaps I should have warned Nonna to be more discreet about the way I feel about Daniella.

Laughing nervously, I come up with something to say, to change the subject. “We’re starving, Nonna.”

“Oh sì, venite a mangiare,” she says, then looks back to Daniella. “Let’s eat!”

We gather in the kitchen, sitting around the table that’s been covered in the same blue-and-white floral tablecloth for years. Nonna serves up a few of my favorite dishes that always make me crave home—Saltimbocca - veal wrapped in prosciutto, Lasagne, and Osso Buco alla Milanese -another veal dish braised in vegetables and white wine. Perfecto.

The three of us talk freely about Italy, the impending fashion show, and the CraveMe business, as we all pig out, Daniella seeming to equally enjoy the feast. I listen to the two of them chatting non-stop, as if they were long lost friends who never missed a beat.

* * *

After we eat all that we possibly can, the three of us tidy up and retire to the living room, too full to move. Nonna tells us both there is homemade gelato in the freezer, should we develop a sweet tooth later. And by the time nightfall surfaces, Daniella’s yawns tell me it’s time to show her to her room.

“I hope you don’t mind sleeping here tonight. I just don’t wish to battle the drive and the Milan traffic.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all. I’m glad you told me about the overnight bag. I’ve got everything I need for the night.” She yawns as she walks alongside me down the narrow hallway to the guest room.

We reach the end of the hall and I slowly open the guest room door, wishing I didn’t have to say good-night just yet. But I know she’s tired and we have another early day tomorrow. “Here’s your room. I’m sure Nonna has fixed it up nice for you. She likes company, that’s for sure—and I can tell she especially likes you.

Through sleepy eyes, Daniella’s gaze dances with mine. “Thanks for today, Antonio. I feel honored to have been introduced to Nonna. She’s a special lady and I can see why you light up whenever you speak with her.”

“I do?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” She bites down on her lower lip. “Can I share something?”

I lean into the door frame, arms folded. “Of course.”

She stares up to the ceiling, seeming to search for the right words to say. “Each time you spoke with Nonna on the phone, I thought she was some Italian hottie model you meet up with whenever you’re in Milan.” She breathes in and out. Then meets my gaze again.

I let out an amused chuckle. “I see. Is that what was bothering you earlier? You thought I was going to introduce you to my Italian hottie lover?”

She nods vigorously, with her index finger over her pressed lips.

I lean in closer to her and softly whisper, “Daniella Belle, I have no Italian lover and in fact, according to TMZ, you are my lover, remember?”

And with that we break out into laughter, before I bid her a very good night.