casual relationship with the mafia?”
“Yes.” His eyes narrowed at the serious subject matter.
“Well, they had this big get-together at one of their restaurants, and they invited me. I met one of their guys, and we hit it off. We saw each other for a couple weeks, but when he became too attached, I ended it.”
“You slept with a guy in the Italian mob?”
I nodded.
“And Charlie doesn’t know?”
“Oh, he’d kill me. My sister would too.”
“So, I’m the only person in the world who knows.”
“Yep.”
“You really are fearless.” He gave me an incredulous look, but it was filled with a hint of affection.
“Look, I don’t want a boring funeral. I want people to talk about my fling with the Italian mob, the fight I had with an Iraqi soldier, how I kicked some guy’s ass in an alleyway. I want my death to remind everyone how much I lived.”
He stared at me for a long time, letting those words sink in. “I respect that. But that also means you plan to tell people about this affair.”
“Someday…but not anytime soon.”
“And how was it with the guy?”
“The sex?” I asked, surprised he’d ask.
“Yeah. Is having sex with a criminal different from with a law-abiding citizen?”
“In general, it was definitely more aggressive, but more passionate because he’s an Italian man with a sexy accent. But best sex I’ve ever had? Not necessarily. This was right after my divorce, so I was being reckless, more than usual, at least.”
His fingers rested under his chin as he leaned my way slightly and watched me. “Then, is the best sex you’ve ever had with a porn star?”
“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of bedding a professional…”
“Prince of Wales?”
I chuckled. “No. I asked him out, but he shot me down.”
He grinned. “Biggest mistake of his life.”
“Well, he’s married, so he made the right choice.”
“Ask out a lot of married guys?”
I knew how shitty it was to be cheated on, so I would never do that to another person. I’d had some really sexy guys come on to me, but their wedding rings were such a turn-off I wanted to throw up. “Never. Not my thing.”
“Me neither.”
I turned my gaze and looked across the yard, at the pink rose bushes under one of the oak trees.
He stared at me.
I could feel his look, so I shifted my gaze back to his.
His fingers brushed across his chin. “I’ve been with some incredible women, but you’re the best I’ve ever had.” He said the words simply, without a hint of hesitation, like my discomfort meant nothing to him.
I didn’t know what to say, so I stared back, my heart picking up in response to his words. He was the best I’d ever had too, but I refused to say it out loud. A part of me didn’t believe what he said, that it was just a line, but now that a relationship was off the table, there was no incentive to give me false praise.
“I’m not in the Italian mob and I’ve never held a gun, so I’m probably not the most exciting lover you’ve ever had—”
“Shut up, you know you are.”
He didn’t smile in triumph. His eyes remained serious, his fingers stilling against his chin. “Really?”
“Hands down.” I wasn’t sure why I told him that. I didn’t owe him anything. I could have kept that secret, but now that the gates were open, I shared everything with him, without hesitation.
“That’s quite the compliment.”
“Well, you’ve got a nice dick.”
A slow smile spread across his lips. “Wow, that’s an even better compliment.”
“People who say size doesn’t matter, that it’s all about the way you use it, are full of shit. Both matter—size and experience.” I held up two fingers. “You’ve got both.”
“This keeps getting better and better. No constructive criticism?”
It was perfect every single time. I missed it sometimes…all the time. “Nope. What about me?”
He released a quiet laugh. “No. You’re perfect.”
“If I was so perfect, my husband wouldn’t have cheated on me.” The bitterness escaped my voice when I’d meant to make a joke. But that pain was still there, right around my heart and lungs. I looked away, immediately regretting what I’d said the moment I said it. I hated being vulnerable, showing my weakness and handing out a map of my scars.
He stared at me and didn’t say anything.
I drank from my water and waited for the moment to dissipate on its own, fly away with the summer breeze.
“Your husband’s infidelity had nothing to do with you.” He spoke with