“Because the hotel is owned by Perrin’s husband, Mom. Remember Perrin? The girl who bought the bar, the one who was engaged to Bran?” Did he have to spell it out for her? “Mariella was sleeping with her ex-fiancé.”
His father slapped him in the back of the head. “Don’t talk about your sister that way.”
Giovanni held open his hands. “I’m not saying anything that’s not true.”
His father pointed at him, a threatening glint in his eye.
Nona carried over a tray of cutlets and his mother set the table. They called a temporary truce while they ate, but once their bellies were full, they were back to screaming at each other again.
“That’s it!” Giovanni snapped. “I’m outta here. I don’t have to listen to this.”
“That’s it, go back to your roadside motel and see how the other half lives,” his father sneered. “Where are you going with those cutlets?”
Giovanni put on his coat and tucked the warm Tupperware of chicken under his arm. “I’m takin’ them. And Nona will fight you if you try to stop me.”
His grandmother blew him a kiss. He hugged his mom, kissing her cheek. “Love ya, Ma. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He had no intention of going back to the motel. He hadn’t been there in days. When he pulled up at Erin’s the lights were on. He parked on the street and frowned at the recliner chair on its side in the snow-covered front lawn.
He knocked and she opened the door wearing those form-fitting tight cotton pants girls wore and a little pink sweater. She looked delicious.
“Hey.”
He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a piece of furniture in your front yard.”
“I was throwing it away, but it got too heavy.”
“Oh. Want me to move it to the curb?”
“Leave it for now. It’s really heavy. I’ll deal with it later.”
He caught her hand and met her stare. “I’ll help you when you’re ready.”
She smiled as if to say, this is just more crazy behavior you can expect.
But she wasn’t crazy—just unexpected. And he was coming to suspect that solid explanations hid under all her quirky behavior. He awaited the day she might open up to him about herself again.
He held up the Tupperware. “Chicken cutlets. They’re still warm.”
“Yum.” She took the container and he pressed a kiss to her lips as he entered the house.
Every time he came over it looked different. A cold draft cut through the living room and he stilled. “You’ve got the windows open?”
She cracked open the container and picked up a cutlet, sniffed it. “The cigarette smoke. I’m trying to air it out in here.”
He took a deep breath. It did smell better.
She took a nibble of the breaded chicken. She shut her eyes and let the flavor sink in. “This is delicious.”
He loved watching her eat. It was rare to find someone with such a simple pallet. Erin had yet to try half the foods his family lived on, and he was excited for her to sample all the delicious dishes his Nona could make.
They sat on the sofa as she ate. He told her about the argument he just had with his parents and she told him about her day. She’d emptied the hall closet and driven a few boxes of her dad’s coats and shoes to Goodwill.
She’d been handling things really well since their talk a few nights ago, and he was glad to see her up and about. They hadn’t slept together again, but he’d been perfectly content to give her some physical space.
Now, however, as she sat cross-legged in those tight little pants, looking ten kinds of delicious while eating his grandmother’s chicken, he was rethinking his stance.
“Did I ever show you my watch?” he asked.
She chewed another bite of a cutlet. “Uh-uh.” The toasted breadcrumbs clung to her lips and he wanted to lick them away.
“It’s like a crystal ball.” He gave his wrist a shake, pressed the face of the watch to his ear, and gasped. “It says you’re not wearing any panties.”
She laughed then tsked. “It must be broken because I’m definitely wearing panties.”
“Damn.” He scowled at the watch and gave it a couple of taps. “This stupid thing’s an hour fast again.”
She laughed. “Buh-dump-bump.”
“I’m here all night, folks. Try the shrimp.”
Her eyes creased with a smile. “If you stick around, your prediction might come true.”
He leaned in and bit the piece of breaded chicken pinched by her fingers. “I plan to.” He toppled her to her back, kissing the breadcrumbs off her lips and tickling his cold hands under her shirt until she giggled.
“Give me time,” he whispered, plucking the elastic waistband of her leggings and letting it snap back against her skin. “My magic watch is never wrong.”
She arched and softened under him, her fingers forking softly through his hair. “I don’t doubt it.”