Sweetest Sorrow (Forbidden #2) - J.M. Darhower Page 0,97

as well come hang out. I've got exciting plans that involve walking around wearing no pants. I'm going to eat a ton of food, maybe binge-watch some Grey's Anatomy so I can roll my eyes and complain about everything they screw up, which is usually, well, everything."

Dante cut the engine. "You had me at 'no pants'."

"Figures."

When they made it up to her apartment, the first thing Gabriella did was kick off her shoes and start stripping, even before Dante got the door closed again. She left a trail on her way to her bedroom, which Dante stepped over as he headed for the couch.

"Make yourself at home," she told him, yanking her hair down out of a ponytail, letting the waves fall around her shoulders. "There are drinks in the fridge and the remote is on the coffee table. I'm going to take a shower and wash off the hospital stink."

Unlike the new car smell, hospital stink was offensive.

She waltzed out of her bedroom, carrying a pile of fresh clothes, wearing only her bra and underwear, and made her way into the tiny bathroom. It took her barely ten minutes to shower, but when she resurfaced, the apartment was empty.

Son of a…

She scowled, something stirring inside of her that she wasn't fond of—disappointment. Loneliness was a bitter sensation, one she didn't like to taste, but it coated her insides as she inhaled, breathing in the air she used to be grateful to not have to share. She loved living alone, being out on her own, being able to come-and-go as she pleased, but she hated not having anyone waiting for her, like whether or not she ever arrived was irrelevant.

Plopping down on the couch, she kicked her feet up on the coffee table and turned on the television. She wore a plain white t-shirt and her cutest underwear, a pair of lace boy shorts that made her sort of hate herself, because she'd worn them specifically for him.

I call him an idiot but look at me. Going bananas over a moron doesn't make you any smarter than him, dummy.

Her phone rang, and Gabriella pressed the button to answer it, putting it straight on speaker from the couch cushion beside her. "Hello?"

"Hey, sweetheart!" Her mother's voice was way too chipper for it being so early. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Gabriella lied. Man, the more she did that, the easier it had become. "How are you and Daddy?"

"You won't believe how we are…"

Her mother launched into a rant, but Gabriella only caught bits and pieces of the story as she flipped through channels. Five… ten… fifteen minutes later, they were chatting about a cousin's wedding—one of those faces she never recognized was getting married. Awesome.

"Can I just send a gift?" Gabriella asked.

"Come on, you know better."

"How about some cash? Everybody loves cash. They won't even know I'm not there when there's money to be spent."

"Don't try it, Gabriella. We rarely get together anymore. Don't dare skip this thing. You come, you eat cake, you wish them well, and then you go back home. How hard is that?"

Way too hard. "When is it?"

“Christmas Eve. You should be getting your invitation in the mail soon, so make sure you clear your schedule."

"Awesome," she muttered, tossing the remote down just as the apartment door opened. She sat straight up, alarmed, her eyes meeting Dante's as he walked in. "Hey, Mom? I've gotta go."

"What? Why? Is somebody there? Who is it?"

"No one." The lie slid right off of her tongue as Dante carefully shut the door behind him. "I'm exhausted, you know, with work and everything. I can barely keep my eyes open."

"Fine, go get some sleep. Just be thinking about the wedding. Your grandmother's going to be expecting a 'plus one'. Don't break her heart. She's getting old, you know. She might not recover."

Gabriella mumbled a goodbye before slapping at the buttons on her phone, desperate to silence that conversation. Embarrassing.

"Death by heartbreak," Dante mused, strolling over to the couch. "It's a terrible way to go."

"It's more like death due to unreasonable expectations," she said, "with a stubborn granddaughter aiding and abetting."

"Ah, let me see… settle down, marry a decent Italian boy, have some babies to carry on the bloodline. Do your duty as a Brazzi woman. Am I getting close?"

She feigned shock as she clutched her chest. "However did you know?"

"Lucky guess." He sat down beside her, his eyes grazing up her bare legs and trailing along her thighs. "My sister never went for

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