You and Giovanni had been in a long time marriage for well- a long time. You and Giovanni had met at a jazz club his uncle owned for a blind date who knows how long ago, even through the long 5 years of your relationship- he never stopped his romantic gestures and hitting on you like you were a women on the streets being cat-called. Giovanni loved you and everyone knew it, his family loved you- originated in Italy so naturally Giovanni picked up some things. Giovanni never stopped to celebrate your relationship, every one month- Giovanni would make sure to spoil you rotten with presents, homemade food his mom most likely had to face time him to teach him how to cook it, endless kisses, and hugs from being with the occasional slap on the bum.

“For you, my beautiful and gorgeous and stunning wife.” Giovanni smiles, his dimples popping out from his cheeks as he places the plate of pasta in front of you- he always made sure the pasta never had anything you were allergic to or couldn’t eat.

“I love you, doll.” Giovanni mutters as he leans down and presses a kiss onto your head, his hand moving onto your shoulder as he gives it an affectionate rub before pulling away and walking over to his own seat right next to you with his own plate of pasta. A movie playing on the television opposed to the dinner table, a glass of wine poured in front of you- compliments to Giovanni as he places his hand on your thigh as his other hand picks up the fork that is basically dwarfed in his hands.

“Eat up, hun.”