may not have spoken to Gio too much over the years, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t wanted to. I wanted to desperately. I wanted him to make the first move, to be stronger than I was, even if I didn’t know if he felt anything more than passing desire.
But then on the heels of my desire, I thought of his folks. Would they have the same notion and feelings on how we “shouldn’t mix”? I couldn’t believe that. I loved Maria and Alfonso. They were like pseudo-parents to me, always looking out for me. Maria even brought me fresh vegetables she’d grown in her garden. No, they’d welcome us being together with a genuine smile on their face.
I searched for Gio, if nothing more than to look at him, to yearn and long for him from afar. I was pathetic, but I guess everyone was who was in love and the other party had no dang clue.
Chapter Three
Gio
I leaned back in my chair and moved my fork around my dinner plate, pushing the food around. My focus—and appetite—were not on the pot roast and potatoes my mom prepared.
“What’s wrong?” my mother asked.
I glanced up and shook my head. “Nothing.” It was a lie. There was plenty wrong, but nothing I wanted to talk to my parents about.
My father sat to my left, and although I wasn’t looking at him, I felt his stare. He had questions, no doubt, after seeing me all but eye-fucking Pyper. Whether he’d call me out on it or not, especially at the dinner table in front of my mom, was left to be seen.
What I needed to do was go for a walk, clear my head, and get some fresh air. I had a lot of thinking to do, decisions to make. I felt this waging war inside me, one that was telling me to do what I wanted, what I thought was right. But then there was another one talking, one deeper, not as strong. It held me back, telling me I’d be crossing lines, that I could ruin everything. But what would I be ruining? It wasn’t as if we had this close friendship, Pyper and me. We barely talked. But as the days went on, my feelings for her continued to deepen, not diminishing in the slightest.
But instead, they grew even stronger.
It was just so damn hard being around her. I couldn’t touch her, because whenever I saw her, I was working… working for her family. It was inappropriate for me to tell her how I felt while on the clock, with her mother and father who paid our bills just on the other side of the door. Right? That’s what I told myself anyway.
But that other side of me, the stronger one, the one that loved her so deeply my chest hurt just to look at her face because she was so beautiful, said fuck it all to hell; go after what you want. What was the point of life if you couldn’t be with the one you wanted?
But did she even want me?
The looks she gave me could mean absolutely nothing at all. I wanted to say I saw desire in her eyes when I caught her watching me, but again, my mind and heart were at war. It could be nothing at all. Or it could mean everything.
“You’re not hungry?” my mother asked and picked up a napkin to wipe her mouth. “You love my pot roast.” She was looking at me with confusion. I still felt my father’s stare.
I did look at him then. I couldn’t read his expression, because it was stoic, but his gray eyes spoke volumes. He knew. He might not know how deep my feelings went for Pyper, how far things had gone—which wasn’t far at all—but he knew there was something there.
“Just say it, Pops.” I wanted to get this done and over with, because eventually it would come to a head. And I’d rather just spill my heart out, maybe not truly telling how deep my feelings went, but they needed to know something was up.
My father said nothing for a moment, still chewing the food he had in is mouth before picking up his beer and washing it down, his eyes locked on mine.
“What’s going on?” my mother asked, speaking to my father in Italian, although I understood her just the same. “Alfonso? What’s going on?”
She kept looking between the both of us, and I didn’t like the worry on