Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
I nod, mutely.
“I’m grateful to you, Marissa. And I’m sorry if you think I would ever pull that trigger on you. I wouldn’t. I swear to La Madonna.”
I’m still shaking, but I can breathe again. I manage a nod of acceptance.
Gio tips my chin to look at me. “Yeah? You believe him?”
Do I? I’m not sure. I want to, yes. I nod.
“Feel better?” Gio presses, like he’s going to take some action on my behalf if I don’t.
I elbow him away. “Jesus, Gio. You didn’t have to go and make a big thing about it. Now I’m embarrassed.”
“No,” he says, waving his hands in that distinctly Italian way. “This matters. I want you coming around here, seeing my family. And I can’t have you scared every time you see my brother.”
Junior shoots Gio a curious glance before he extends his hand. “No, I definitely don’t want you scared of me. Please.” When I place my hand in his, he covers it with his other one and squeezes, holding me captive. “Accept my apologies. For everything that went down that night.”
I blink. I know my lips are still trembling, so I don’t trust myself to talk. It’s funny how far an apology goes.
Much farther than the money. The Tacones took care of us after the shooting. Paolo had the windows replaced the following day and Junior gave me twice as much cash as it cost to repair everything.
But hearing him say he’s sorry in plain words makes a difference. A large chunk of the fear and anger I’ve been holding on to against the Tacones as a result of that day breaks off and floats away.
“Thanks,” I manage to say after a moment, cursing my voice for wobbling.
But Junior releases my hand and draws me in for a hug, like we’re family. And I don’t mind. It’s nice, actually.
When he lets me go, Gio pulls my back against his front and wraps his arms around me from behind. He kisses my hair. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Junior peers down at me. “You sure?”
I nod again. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Okay. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you or your family, Marissa,” Junior says. It makes me think he doesn’t know about the loan Gio already gave me. So it was off the books, like Gio promised.
“Thanks, Mr. Tacone—Junior.”
We file out of the den and into the chaos of a noisy family gathering, and something in me I didn’t know I was holding relaxes. Some space opens up in my chest for more breath.
The din of chatter soothes me and my nerves ebb. Maybe Gio’s right. They are just like any other family.
Gio
It was everything I could do not to bash my brother’s face in when I felt Marissa trembling beside me. I think Junior must’ve recognized the depth of my rage, because he was uncommonly kind. Or maybe he’s just changed.
Desiree and fatherhood have given him a new lease on life.
I had no idea how much Marissa still suffers from having that gun pointed at her, although I should have realized. Her hands shook the day I came into the cafe. I thought it was because I startled her. But no, her PTSD is as bad as mine—that’s why she recognized the signs in me.
We all gather in the kitchen to eat antipasto from a platter while my mom and Junior finish dinner.
Everyone keeps shooting curious glances at my date. They will be asking me about her for an eternity now, but I don’t give a shit. I wanted her here. She makes me feel alive for the first time in years.
I keep her close to my body, my arm draped loosely around her waist. It’s a signal to my family that she’s absolutely under my protection, not that I expect anyone to offend her. There’s more ease in our family gatherings than ever before, but old habits die hard.
Dinner is my favorite—stuffed shells with homemade sausage. Marissa is a sweetheart, exclaiming over the food and cleaning her plate, despite the fact that it’s not the gourmet cuisine she likes to make.
She fits in, though. She joins the noisy conversation. Talks to Desiree and my mom. To Jasper. She has that ease with the family that Desiree did from the start. I know it’s nuts—way too fucking soon—but I fantasize about making this permanent. Putting a big shiny ring on her finger and keeping her forever.
But I know I’m way ahead of myself. She only just let her defenses down in bed. She’s still pretty damn far from allowing me into the rest of her life.
“Is it time for cake?” Jasper asks the moment I clean my plate.
“Is there cake?” I feign surprise.
“Yes!” He jumps out of his chair. “Chocolate cake with raspberry filling. Nonna made it.”
My mother beams. She loves that the boy already calls her Nonna, like she’s been his grandmother his whole life. “Well, I think we’d better get the plates cleared so we can have cake. Can you help, Jasper?” I hand him mine and he cruises into the kitchen with it.