"Maybe," she said. "Do you think they'll ever come back for any of it?"
"I doubt it," he said. "Are we ever going back for our stuff?"
"We have no reason to go back. There's nothing there for us."
"Then what makes you think there's something here for them?"
"I didn't mean there was. I was just wondering if they still wanted any of it."
"Why?"
"Because I kind of want to keep this car for myself."
Matty laughed, setting down a wrench and plopping his ass down in the hard dirt, stretching his legs out. He was filthy, drenched in sweat. "Whether or not the owner wants it has always been irrelevant to you, hasn't it?"
"Funny."
"If they wanted the car, Genna, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be rusting out behind an abandoned house in the desert. But I don't really see what use it is to you. It doesn't run."
"I could fix it."
"Do you know how to fix it?"
"Not really, but I could learn."
"Is that smart? Fixing up a car in your condition?"
"Don't." She pointed at him. "I swear to God, I will suffocate you in your sleep if you pull that delicate pregnant woman bullshit on me one more time. I'm fully capable of doing stuff."
Matty shoved up from the ground, wiping his dirty hands on his pants, but it did little to clean them. Stepping over to her, she reached up, cupping her chin, smearing dirt along her jawline. "I know you're capable. I'm just saying…"
"You're saying blah blah blah sexist Barsanti shit, but I'm not going to listen to it. My father treated me like a fragile ice sculpture my entire life. Everyone acted like I was breakable, but I'm not. I'm not going to break. I don't need coddled. Don't coddle me."
"I promise not to coddle you," Matty said, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. "Unfortunately, I think this air conditioner is fucked… unless you want to give fixing it a try?"
She scowled at him. Smartass. "I could've told you that. You need, like, a serious repairman."
"It probably needs an entirely new system. We'll have to make do. Maybe get some fans. Make it tolerable until I figure it out."
Tolerable seemed to be the name of the game. Genna glanced back at the house, studying the dirty outside. "How long are we going to be here?"
"Until we have somewhere else to go."
"And if we never have anywhere else to go?"
"Then we stay right here."
"So we've got an open invitation? The place is ours for as long as we want it?"
"Something like that." He eyed her. "Why?"
"I was just thinking, you know... maybe we should fix it up, too."
"The house?"
"If we're going to be living in it for who the hell knows how long, we should at least make it livable... a step up from tolerable."
He gazed at her, smiling. "Two months pregnant and you're already nesting."
"I'm what?"
"Nesting," he said. "Like how a mother bird builds a nest to lay her eggs in… when a woman's having a baby, she gets the instinct to make sure a place is all together for the baby to come home."
"Are you...?" She gaped at him. "Did you seriously just compare me to a bird?"
He laughed. "It's a real thing mothers do."
"How do you know?"
He leaned toward her for another kiss. "Because I know everything."
Groaning, Genna shoved away from him as she rolled her eyes. "I'll probably learn to tolerate this house of horrors before I tolerate that ego of yours."
"You love me."
"I do," she said. "But that doesn't mean I like you."
"Oh, but you do. You like everything about me. That Galante stubbornness just won't let you admit it." Smirking, he stepped past her. "I'm going to go take a shower now."
"I hope you freeze your balls off."
He laughed as he opened the back door. "Love you, too, Princess. Don't you ever forget it."
She watched him as he strolled into the house, trailing dirt with him. After he was gone, she turned back to the car, nodding to herself as she admired it.
Yep, totally fucking fixing it.
Chapter Five
The hospital inevitably evicted Dante from the ICU.
He was put into another room, on another floor, in another ward. A private deluxe suite, they'd called it. It was the size of a fucking closet. His medicine decreased and the catheter was removed as they called in a physical therapist and let him move around on his own.
But still, he didn't speak.
He had nothing to say.
The doctors seldom showed their faces, the psychiatrist wrote him off, and