of thing I expect from Uncle Frankie, not you. I thought we were free to pick whoever we wanted.”
“Of course you are. So long as he comes from a good Italian family and is approved by your father and me.”
She picks up the dessert menu and orders the cheesecake. Gia gets the lava cake. I pass on dessert.
I never thought of my parents as antiquated thinkers. Clearly, I was wrong.
I’m a grown woman who honors her parents, yet I refuse to allow them to choose who I’ll spend my forever with.
Mom grabs my and Gia’s hands and gives them a squeeze. Her eyes mist over as she looks at us lovingly. “I’m so happy we were able to do this. I needed my girls tonight. This was very good.”
She kisses both our knuckles, and I decide this isn’t the time to argue.
“We’re happy you’re happy,” I state, and she raises her hand to my cheek.
After dinner, my mother talks for ten minutes about how unhappy she is that I’m not going back with her. I win over her approval by saying that I’ll be over for dinner on Sunday.
We get in our cars—after I check the back seat of mine—and drive away. They drive to my parents’ house while I circle the block and return to Villa Russo.
“Back so soon?” the attendant says.
“Forgot something inside.”
I walk in and head to the bar. Jesse doesn’t seem surprised to see me. In fact, he doesn’t acknowledge me at all.
I use the restroom and then bide my time, talking with friends of my parents who were on their way out. We chat in the lobby for a while. When they leave, I make a show of looking for my phone that I swear I lost.
When the last of the dining room has emptied, I realize the club must be closing soon, so I head to my car.
“Find your phone?” the attendant asks.
I open my bag and take it out. “Turns out, it was with me the whole time.”
He laughs. “Well, I guess that’s a good thing. Drive safely.”
I drive away from the club, toward my building, but I don’t pull into the parking lot. I circle the neighborhood, not wanting to get out alone.
On my third pass by my building, I see Jesse’s car. I pull into the lot and watch as he tucks his into a shadowy corner.
I get out and walk inside, heading straight for the service entrance near the dumpsters.
He’s not inside the back door a second before I throw my arms around him.
“What’s this for?” he asks as he wraps his own around me.
“I just realized how much better I feel when you’re around.” I run my hand over his jaw. “I feel safe when you’re with me.”
A small smile tugs at his lips. “Let’s get you upstairs.”
His duffel bag is in one hand with my hand in his other as we ride the freight elevator. In my apartment, he sweeps the rooms, and then we relax.
We’re just standing here, in my living room. Me in my fancy dress and him in his uniform. I smile. By the look in his eyes, I know he’s wondering why I’m smiling.
“We look like we’re going to a funeral.”
He glances down. “Or we’re spies.”
I let out a laugh. “That too.” I motion to his bag. “I guess you’re having a sleepover.”
He tucks a hand in his pocket and looks up through his lashes. “I thought that was implied. I’m not leaving you.”
“I don’t want you to.”
With a puff of air through his lips, he nods and tucks a stray hair behind my ear. “I can sleep on the couch.”
“I don’t want you to do that either.”
He grins, and it’s wicked.
There’s a bottle of bourbon somewhere in my cabinet. It was a birthday gift from a friend. I tucked it in the back and never took it out because I don’t drink whiskey. Tonight seems like the time to try.
Kneeling down by the liquor cabinet, I find the box and have to blow off the dust resting on top. I take the bottle out and hold it up. “Care for a drink?”
He appreciatively eyes the bourbon. “Only one.”
I take out two lowball glasses and pour our drinks, handing him one as he takes a seat on the sofa. Before I sit, I slip my shoes off, so I can curl onto the couch with my legs bent.
I take a sip and cringe at the burn that runs down my throat.
Jesse laughs in that