Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Then he’s gone.
I stare at the empty space and the ground shifts under my feet. I know how we got to this point, but it doesn’t make it sting any less.
The old pipes groan when he finally turns on the shower.
Focus. Stay focused. I need to distract myself with something before I go in there and make him hate fuck me until he forgives me, so I start unpacking.
By the time I make it downstairs, Nonna is at full speed. Pots clatter, garlic and rosemary thickening the air.
She points a wooden spoon at the cutting board without looking up. “Chop.”
Reaching for the knife, I chop without rhythm.
Her hip bumps mine as she grabs the olive oil. “Tu es impossible.”
I let the French come easy, nudging her back with my elbow. “Non, tu es impossible.”
Switching to English, she grabs carrots. “You were such a pain in the ass growing up.” She side-eyes me. “Every new member that walked through that door, you refused to listen to their introductions. Even if it came from me. You would say ‘I don’t believe words, I believe silence, because silence doesn’t care who is listening.’”
I snort and drag the peeler along a potato. “I still believe that.”
“Oh, I know.” Pride warms her face as she drops the carrots into the pot, but her smile slips a little. “I definitely know that.”
Asher leans against the doorframe at the edge of my vision, watching me.
I suck in a breath.
Before I can speak, he straightens and vanishes, taking his cold stare with him.
Blood gushes behind my ears, drowning out Nonna’s voice.
Her hand covers mine. “Where did you go?”
“Nowhere.” I shake myself out of my own pity. “I’m here, but I have a question.”
Neither of us stops. Just two carefully built machines, designed to lie and kill.
“Did you know?” I flick a stray potato skin off my hand into the pile. I don’t need to elaborate. She knows.
“What do you think?” She wipes her hands on her apron, pausing to look at me.
I tighten my grip on the knife. “I think—”
The front door crashes open, Jord shoving his glasses up over his head. “We’re hommmeee! Chaos has arrived!”
As always, perfect timing.
Mismatched plates crowd the table as candles drip wax down their stems.
Luce swirls her wine across from me, laughing, and my chest eases for a moment.
I spent the rest of the day doing anything that kept my hands busy and my eyes off Asher. It was all very mature. An excellent display of my healing journey. Truly.
I told myself I wasn’t avoiding him.
I’ve always been better at lying to myself than to him.
Asher pulls out the chair beside me, replacing all the oxygen in the room as he lowers himself into it without breaking conversation with Jord.
His sleeve drags across my arm when he reaches for his glass, and my pulse forgets every useful thing it’s ever done.
My thighs lock when his wrist passes mine, close enough that his cologne and clean skin cut through the garlic and wine and candle smoke, blood running hot behind my eyes.
I’m fine.
Everything is fine.
I’m absolutely not measuring the distance between his throat and Nonna’s good fork.
Then he chuckles against the side of my neck, those almost-white blue eyes angled toward me for half a second too long.
He fucking knows what he’s doing. The man knows every curve of my body like he was the one who built it.
Jord throws his hands wide, almost leveling the salt. “No, no, no,” he says, face lit up. “She didn’t just hack into it. She lived in it for three days before anyone noticed.”
Punk jabs her fork at him, teal hair swinging. “It was a municipal server, Jord. Municipal. Stop making it sound like I breached the Pentagon.”
Jord leans forward like he’s a damn defense lawyer. “You were fourteen!”
Punk rolls her eyes. “And it was a parking violations database. I was trying to get Nonna’s ticket dismissed.”
Nonna raises her glass from the head of the table and tips it toward Punk. “And you did.”
Laughter rolls through the room and I let it pull the tension off my shoulders, shaking my head at the memories of little Punk.
Asher shifts, the warm weight of his thigh sliding against mine.
I stop breathing.
He doesn’t move, just stays there with deliberate pressure.
Asshole.
I reach for my glass, fingers a fraction too tight around the stem.
Nonna aims her fork at me. “Tell them about the time Ivy climbed onto the roof. Sixteen years old, middle of winter.”
I sink back into my chair, angling into Asher without thinking. “No, truly, we don’t have to do that.”
She ignores me. “She wanted to see the stars better. So she takes a bottle of my good wine and a blanket and climbs out her window at two in the morning.”
His hand slips from the table and lands on my thigh. I clear my throat, heat traveling with his palm as it slides inward.