"I work here." Gabriella nodded toward the hospital. "Somebody might see."
As much as she'd insulted him over the weeks out of frustration, calling him names and questioning his common sense, he'd never actually seemed offended until that moment. Hurt flashed in his eyes. "Right. Somebody might."
"It's not…" She paused when he let go of her hand. "Look, morally gray area, remember? It's not that I care. Well, I mean, I do care, but what I'm trying to say is you kissing me on hospital property isn't cohesive with me being Nurse Russo."
He blinked a few times. "Not cohesive."
"Yes."
"Well, then." He ran the hand he'd pulled from hers through his damp hair. "To answer your question, my car's over by the parking deck."
He motioned down the sidewalk, and Gabriella started that direction, glancing back at the hospital to catch a pair of eyes watching. The Grinch stood beside the entrance, puffing away on a cigarette. Ugh.
She hurried her footsteps, bumping into folks as they walked in her path. Her eyes scanned the neighborhood, searching for the black car, but Dante grabbed her arm to stop her before she spotted it.
"It's right here," Dante said.
Gabriella's eyes fell upon a bright blue car. Dante pulled a key from his pocket, motioning to it, like that thing belonged to him.
"Wait, what? Where's your car?"
"This is it," he said. "Bought it yesterday. Or well, I haven't paid for it yet, but the money will be wired soon, so I'm calling it mine. What do you think?"
He grinned, looking at her, like he wanted her opinion. Oh, boy...
"I think it's like handing you a fully loaded gun with a very loose trigger."
"I've been handed a few of those," he said. "They were never this thrilling."
Gabriella shook her head, surveying the car. She knew enough to tell a make and model, thanks to her father, but anything beyond that resided in the don't-give-a-crap portion of her brain. McLaren 12C. Crazy expensive and insanely fast and a bit flashy for a guy who pretty much had a bounty on his head.
"It's definitely gorgeous," she admitted, not sure what to tell him. "Where'd you get it?"
"From your father."
Whoa. Those words nearly knocked her off her feet. She swayed, turning to him so fast she risked whiplash. "Tell me you didn't…"
He wouldn't have. He couldn't have. He shouldn't have. He better friggin not have.
"Relax, your name didn't come up at all."
"Why did you even go there? What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking it might be nice to drive a car that doesn't have my blood soaked into the seats."
"So you buy this? And you go the whole way to Jersey to do it?"
He shrugged. "Why not?"
Why not? Gabriella could spout off a whole host of reasons, but ultimately, it boiled down to the fact that it terrified her. He was still her secret and she'd told lies because of that, so those worlds converging meant having to face facts.
The biggest fact being that she was in a whatever with the Galante boy, and unless someone showed up with a DeLoreon or a Tardis, it was way too late to try to go back. And even if she could, Gabriella wasn't sure she would. Their lives were entwining, and that had been the last thing she'd set out to let happen, but now that it was happening, she couldn't imagine it not being so.
The rain started to come down a bit harder, warm drops splashing her face, running down her cheeks like salty tears. "So, that ride? Preferably before you catch pneumonia?"
Dante opened the passenger side door, lifting it up for her to climb in. It still had that distinct 'new car' smell, something that always reminded her of childhood. Every night, her father would come home smelling like leather and vinyl, the distinct odor clinging to him.
This is so wrong. So, so wrong.
Dante navigated the streets with ease. He didn't speed. He was in no hurry. When he reached Little Italy, he pulled into a spot down the street from her apartment, but he made no move to turn off the car.
"Do you not want to come up?" she asked.
"Wasn't sure I was invited."
"That's never stopped you before," she said. "Besides, I think it's pretty clear by now that you've got an open invitation."
"You think so? Because that wasn't clear on this end. I've been expecting to pop in one day and be greeted by a restraining order."
"Well, you still might," she joked, "but until then, you might