Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“You chewed through a candy wrapper?” he asked, smirking.
“Yeah. And I’m about ten minutes away from doing it again. What can we order this late?”
“Pizza. Chinese. The usual.”
“Pizza sounds good. A lot of pizza. The greasier, the better. And a Sicilian. And garlic knots.”
“I can do that,” he agreed, reaching for his new temporary phone to find the closest place that was still open and placing the order. “Twenty minutes.”
“We eat,” I said, leaning my head against him. “Then we sleep.”
“Because you’re gonna insist on being up early to go back to work.”
“Yes. You’re either with me or in my way. And I think we both know I can swing a mean liquor bottle now.”
“Nah. I’ll be there. Gotta give you the cash from Lorenzo.”
“Is that a bribe?”
“Can we call it a bribe if it’s going into the charity, not your bank account?”
“Fair,” I agreed.
Honestly, after everything, I genuinely didn’t give a damn about some merchandise making its way into the city via the toy trucks. So long as the kids got what they needed, who cared?
“Between what Lorenzo is pledging and the lawyers are sending over, I think we are just about making your goal.”
“Don’t get my hopes up. We were several hundred thousand away from it last I checked.”
“Because you weren’t good at keeping a mental tally with the lawyers. You were too busy being charming. Me, without a lick of fucking charm, was counting.”
“Who said you’re not charming?” I asked as Meatball let out a loud snore.
“Just about everyone I’ve ever met.”
“Well, they’re all wrong.”
“They’re not. You’re just fucked in the head.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “But I like being the only one to know how sweet you can be.”
“Sweet? Babe, you sure you didn’t whack your head sometime tonight?”
I elbowed him in the side at that.
“You carried me.”
“I’m the reason your feet are fucked up.”
“You warmed me up.”
“Couldn’t let you die of hypothermia.”
“You escorted me to a stuffy holiday party.”
“Alright, that was kinda nice of me, huh? No,” he said, rolling his eyes at me.
“No, what?”
“No, you can’t be looking at me like that. You need food, meds, and sleep.”
“I mean… that might help me sleep.”
“I’m not gonna have to explain to Salvatore why your bandages are all fucked up tomorrow.”
Honestly, I didn’t feel up to it either. But my libido wasn’t working on the same wavelength as the rest of me.
“How’s your face? Really.”
“It’s alright. Feels like I got hit in it a few times. It’ll fade.”
“It’s looking worse by the minute,” I told him.
“If you don’t wanna be seen with me tomorrow, I can have someone else fill in for me at the charity.”
“What? No.” I was offended even at the suggestion. “Why wouldn’t I want to be seen with you?”
“Because I look like I had a fistfight.”
“I mean, yeah. But we can spin it.”
“Spin it how?”
“Well, maybe we left the holiday party last night in search of some food that would satisfy something larger than a finch. And we were mugged. And you fought off the attacker.”
“You’re okay with lying to everyone?”
“That’s kind of what has to happen, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. But the question wasn’t about what has to happen, but how you feel about it.”
“I guess that depends.”
“On what?”
I tried to ignore the way my stomach twisted, how my pulse quickened, how every system inside me was screaming in discomfort at having to have this conversation.
“You.”
“What about me?”
“Well, if I’m never going to see you again after Christmas, I guess I can see this whole situation as a lie that has to be told to protect me. If I am going to see you after Christmas,” I went on, “then I guess I can see the lie as a necessary evil to protect someone… someone who…”
“Someone who, what?”
“Someone who means something to me.”
It wasn’t the most eloquent I’d ever been. But it was honest. And I felt like Venezio was the kind of man who could appreciate that.
“Alright,” Venezio said with a deep exhale. Like he hated this, but was going to do it anyway. And emotional vulnerability in a man like him? That was hotter than I ever could have expected. “Gonna just lay this shit out there.”
“Nice opening,” I teased, trying to make it easier for him. “Did you rehearse it?”
“You gonna let me talk?”
“You gonna get to the point?”
I got a snort at that and the tension that had been creeping into his shoulders and jaw slackened.
“I’m in this.”
“You’re… in this,” I repeated. Some part of me wanted to just accept him at that, knowing he was clearly uncomfortable even dancing around his feelings and intentions. The other part of me needed brutal clarity or I was going to obsess over it until I was sure he meant the exact opposite of what he said. “Just to clarify, by that do you mean… you know… in me, or…”