Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
For example, (don’t tell the native New Jersians, but) I liked the pizza fries more than the disco fries. Even if I was glad for the experience.
And ‘fat’ sandwiches? Possibly my new favorite sandwich in the whole world.
By the time we walked up to the counter to pay, I felt like I needed to undo my pants… and I didn’t have a button or zipper.
“You look a little green,” Dante said, watching my profile as we parked in his driveway.
“I’m in a fried food coma,” I told him, exhaling hard. “I might join you in the basement gym tomorrow.”
“Or you can come to the gym with me. We can somewhat go back to normal now.”
“You’re sure? What if there are more men involved?” I asked as we went in through the garage to the mudroom off of the kitchen.
“That’s something other people can worry about. You’ve done more than enough of—”
“There you are!” a voice called, making me jump and gasp.
Only to find Giulia standing in the kitchen, a cleaning rag still in her hand.
From the looks (and smell) of things, she’d been stress-cleaning for a while.
“Ma, what are you doing here?” Dante asked as his mother’s gaze slid to our clasped hands.
I had the silly, adolescent urge to drop his hand, to act like nothing was going on. Until I remembered that Giulia had all but orchestrated this.
“I came right over when I heard Hazel was attacked again.”
“It was nothing. Really,” I assured her, not wanting her to get upset. I couldn’t imagine the stress she’d been put through over the years. First by her husband, then all of her children.
“Nothing. That’s not what I heard.”
“Who was talking?” Dante asked, body tensing.
“Oh, no. None of that,” Giulia insisted, waving away her son’s tension. “I heard it from your brother. He didn’t walk away from me fast enough when the call came in.”
“And you were eavesdropping?” Dante asked, sounding close to clucking his tongue.
“It’s not my fault I have great hearing. It’s a mother thing. You’ll see eventually. Oh, what pretty babies you will make.”
“Ma…” Dante’s voice held warning, but there was a softness in his eyes when he looked down at me to offer his silent apology.
Was he thinking those things too?
Did he know that something had changed tonight? That any of the reservations I had about his lifestyle, his profession, they all evaporated?
I would have to find a time and place to tell him exactly that.
But not with his mom hanging around, making dessert, asking a thousand questions, and making more than a handful of predictions for our future.
By the time she finally headed home, we were both too exhausted to do anything but brush our teeth and fall into bed, dead tired.
Still, Dante reached for me. He pulled me onto his chest.
I fell asleep listening to the steady beat of his heart.
And I knew down to my marrow that this was exactly where I belonged.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Hazel
One new thing I learned about Dante Grassi.
He was an early riser.
I thought I got up at a relatively decent hour, but this was the second time I woke up alone in the bed with the space beside me cool.
I got myself together before making my way downstairs, unsurprised to find Domenico in the kitchen.
Ant, on the other hand, being present was quite the shock.
There was a heaviness to his lids that suggested he’d been up all night.
There was a strip of gauze wrapped around his palm, making me realize he hadn’t walked away unscathed the night before.
He raised that hand to wave at me before he realized what he was doing. Through the gauze, his hand must have broken back open, fresh blood saturating the material.
“You’re bleeding,” I said, starting to rush forward.
“I’m fine.”
“He’s fine,” Domenico said at the same time.
“He’s clearly not. Hold on. Let me get the first aid kit,” I said, rushing away to grab the kit Dante used to clean me up. “Dante has everything we could need to clean that up. He even has a suture kit. Which we are not going to be using.” I moved a stool in front of Ant, putting his hand on my leg, then cutting off his gauze.
“I’ll stab you with a needle a dozen times, if you want,” Domenico offered.
“Be nice,” I demanded, getting a small smirk from Domenico. “Oh, wow. This is ugly,” I said, forcing my stomach to steel when it flipped. I was glad I was seeing the damage on an empty stomach.
The cut was deep and a little ragged at the edges, the skin dangling.
“Um, I think this actually does need to be closed up,” I said after placing a rag underneath his hand and pouring a tube of sterile saline on the wound.
Digging around in the kit, I found a package of butterfly closures. I had a vague memory of my grandma putting them on my mother’s finger when she’d sliced it while chopping vegetables one night.