Addicted to Santino - Amarie Avant Page 0,44

ask, “Toni, when did this happen?”

“When you were sick,” Toni yawns, “and we were making soup, Gina sort of mentioned it.”

I nod. “Go get some sleep, Toni.”

Ma yawns in my arms. “I should get some rest too. Santino, make sure you brush your teeth. Reach all the way . . .”

“Ma, I promise to get my molars. Pinkie swear.”

“O Mio Dio! Swearing, Santino?” Ma shakes her head. “Gina, love, I didn’t notice you.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mrs. Morelli.”

“How many times have I told you to call me ‘Ma’?”

Grinning wide, Gina replies, “Sorry, Ma.”

“Well, love, you have to go home now. If you come back bright and early, I’ll cook breakfast. French toast is still your favorite?”

“Yes, Ma. You remembered.”

“Of course,” Ma says reluctantly. “Santino, hug Gina and make sure she gets to her car. Once the two of you marry, she can sleep in your room with you. Not a day sooner.”

I laugh. “Okay, Ma. I moved years ago, though, but I promise to see Gina home safely. Then I’ll go home to my bed, without her.”

“You’re a good boy, Santi.”

Moments later, the tiny living room is silent. My family is safe upstairs, and the woman I’m desperate to start a new family with leans against the kitchen table.

I pull her in my arms. My hands fall to her curvy frame. “I’ll see you safely home, Bella, but are you capable of sleeping without me?”

“Sounds frightening. I ditched my nightlight for your arms, Santino. If you must respect my virtue, can you return before I awaken?”

“Heh, I’d love to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives.”

“Santino,” Gina stresses.

“It’s true?”

“Even after my sister, hell, my entire family! I can’t believe Geraldine said what she said.”

“Your sister, Zane, and I had a side wager that you are unaware of. You were having too much fun with Gabby.”

Gina shakes her head, smiling up at me. “I figured. Anyway, against my better judgment, I wonder what your thoughts are about moving in with me? Of course, we won’t tell your ma.”

Countdown to Christmas!

28

Gina

Today marks the first of December. I’ve stolen more than half of Santino’s closet space, plus the entire closet in the second bedroom. His apartment is closest to Galloway Enterprise. With his job site set to change at a moment’s notice, we made the sound decision.

As I refold the towels in the hallway cupboards, we’re deep into our first argument. Each time Santino walks down the hall with stacks of boxes, I ask the same old tired question. “Santino, why can’t I pay half the rent?”

Passing by, he probes, “You still paying rent for your place?”

“I’m working out a potential sublet.”

“Come talk to me when you do.” He disappears into the bedroom to drop off more of my necessities.

When he walks back again, I quip. “Okay, utilities?”

“No,” he replies, exiting the apartment.

On the next round of him entering the hallway, I jump in front of him. “Groceries?”

“I eat more than you.” With two more boxes in hand, Santino ambles around me.

I toss the folded terry cloth towel at the back of his head. “Next time you visit Piero’s pizza, I want his-and-hers pizzas. Matter of fact, when I get home from work . . .”

Santino’s back in a flash. He cocks a brow as I trail off.

Damn, I love the sound of that. “When I get home tonight, let’s go. I’m hungry for pizza.”

“You should’ve just said you were hungry. To your knees, Bella.”

I whack him with another towel. “Ha! Hungry for food that will fill me up.”

“This meat will be stabbing your stomach in no time.”

“I’m backing away. . .slowly.” I grin. “But seriously, you’re helping at your ma’s house, right?”

He shrugs.

“So, if I’m staying here and I can support—”

“Go ahead and do your pageant wave, Gina,” he says, marking the end of the discussion.

I cock a brow. “You’re giving me consent to ghost you?”

“Yes. First,” Santino begins, telling me to give him a kiss in Italian. Now, that I can’t resist.

The instrumental to Silver Bells plays in the elevator as I stride out of it. In my office, I glance across the area. I encouraged Nikki to add a festive spin. I expected a Charlie Brown Christmas tree, maybe a couple of decorations. Fake snow’s vomited all over. With the side of my hand, I slide the fluffy white particles onto the carpet.

“Oh, you’re in,” Nikki says, bounding into the room with a plastic container. I’m eyeing the colorful contents when she grimaces. “Should I stop?”

“No, it’s