shake my head. Like a dog who marks its territory, Matt came to retrieve his hoodie but left his ball cap in its place.
“Claws?” I call. I plop a canvas bag onto the table and find a note from Carmella.
Welcome home, Em. Thanks for loaning me Emville while you were gone. I LOVED having my own space. Claws missed you, and so did I. I have so much to tell you, but I’ll wait until you’re settled. See you at work tomorrow. xoxo
I smile and step into my living room. From his spot on the window seat, Claws stretches and leaps to the floor, lazily sauntering over to me as if determined to prove I wasn’t missed.
“Well, hello, handsome,” I say, scooping him into my arms. “I’m home.” But it doesn’t feel like home. I’m slammed by a question Poppy posed to me just as we were leaving for Italy. What if, after nearly thirty years of life, you discover you’ve been planted in the wrong place?
But no. For as much as I love it, Italy is only temporary. Bensonhurst is my world. Matt’s here. His business is starting to take off. It’ll be a great place to raise a family.
My fingers tremble when I tap my phone.
I’m home, MC. Want to grab a beer?
A full five minutes pass before he replies. At Homestretch but leaving soon. Tomorrow night work for you?
I’m ashamed when I let out a sigh of relief. Even better.
I need to get out of here. For the first time since that day at the Florence airport, I call Daria.
“You’re back.” Is that relief I hear in her voice?
“Yes,” I say, not daring to tell her I’ll be leaving again soon. “How’ve you been? How are the girls?”
“Oh, you know, fine.” She’s returned, once again, to the flat voice reserved just for me.
“Look,” I say, rubbing my temples. “About what happened …”
“Yeah, about that.”
She’s waiting for my apology. Instead, I say, “Can we put it behind us?”
“I can’t believe you did that, Emmie.”
I tamp down a smile. “Me, neither.”
“Where are you?” she asks.
“I’m here, at my apartment. I’ll walk down, if you’re home.” I pull two porcelain dolls from my bag, and the beautiful gloves I splurged on for Dar. “I have some souvenirs for the girls.” I run a hand over the expensive black leather. “And I bought something special for you.”
“Okay, well, Donnie’s sister and the kids will be here any minute. They’re coming for pizza. Can you bring the stuff to work in the morning? You will be at work, right?”
Smells of stale beer and popcorn greet me when I step into the Homestretch. The pub has a decent crowd for a Monday evening. A pair of blondes stand at the jukebox, laughing as they feed money into the slot. Four men gather at the pool table, three leaning on their cue sticks while one prepares to shoot. My stomach rumbles as I scan the bar. I spot a navy work shirt and my heart thumps. He’s still here.
Slowly, I step forward. He’s got his back to me, one hand scrolling his phone, the other clutching a beer mug. For some odd reason, I choke up. This is it. This is the man I’ll spend the rest of my life with, right here in Bensonhurst. He’s solid. Dependable. Funny. Adorable. And he loves me. So why am I on the verge of tears?
I creep toward the bar, stopping when I reach his stool. He doesn’t know I’m behind him. As I bend down to kiss his neck, I catch a whiff of the same Avon cologne my uncle Vinnie wears. I turn away, hit with a wave of nausea. I suck in one breath. And another. It’s okay. It’s only cologne. I’ll get used to it. Better yet, I’ll find him a new brand.
Take two. I wet my lips. I bend down, this time trying not to inhale. My lips meet his neck.
He jerks his head and lets out a laugh. “Hey,” he says, spinning around in his stool. He rears back when he sees me. “Ems?”
I smile. “Same girl, different glasses.”
“Whoa,” he says, looking everywhere except at me. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
I slide onto the stool beside him and set a gift bag on the bar. “For you.”
His phone chimes. He quickly checks it before planting it facedown on the bar.
“Go on,” I say, pushing the bag closer to him. “Open it.”
He hesitates before reaching into the bag. His hands