Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
“Me, too. But you don’t want to share that big closet, do you?”
He felt her cheek lift with a grin. “I’d give you two racks and a section of shelves.”
“Good, because I have plans for the space up here.”
She glanced up at him. “Oh, making the closet bigger?”
“Hell no.”
Her hand swatted playfully at him. “Mean.”
“Aren’t you going to ask the plans for the rooms?”
“Probably a man cave. Game room. Sex dun—”
“No,” he muttered. “You had your fill of that sort.”
Carina cleared her throat, whispering back, “I asked you to go with me.”
“If you thought I could ever watch another man fuck you, especially like that,” he replied, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. “I am not that kind of man.”
“Yeah, I know,” she eventually said. “So, what are the plans?”
“Nursery.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Oh. Okay?” he mocked.
She swatted him again. “Hush, they’re almost back.”
Salvatore watched the scene playing out on the dimly lit cobblestone between patches of pink roses that had started to wilt at the edges of the petals with autumn’s arrival. For the third time in a row, Frankie and Nico had walked the property going in opposite ways. They kept coming back together at different points, usually closer to the house where the lights illuminated their fight to anyone who watched.
He was sure the whole property currently did.
“This is what, hour two?” Carina asked.
“And a half.”
Down below, the shouting started. Nico said something, Frankie bit back, and he walked away. Last time, he’d been the one who shouted, and she jammed her fingers into his chest before storming off.
“I mean, I feel like this is a healthier way than we did it,” Carina noted.
It was. Better.
Yeah, the two still had things to say to one another. Sal didn’t even know what the entire argument between them consisted of. He stayed off the cameras, so he didn’t intrude that way.
He was grateful these kids trusted him enough to feel safe to stay at his home and have a civil disagreement. Mostly. They were working on it. That’s why they kept walking away.
“Is he mad about what she said, or that she hid it?” he asked Carina.
“Oh, no. They got over that part like an hour ago. Sissy heard most of that. And I guess Larkin is hard on the cams tonight because she’s getting running commentary. Did you seriously think I didn’t come find you already because I was mad, or something?”
“A little,” he admitted, unashamed.
“Well, that’s fair,” Carina returned, “But no, they are way past all of that. We’re at a whole different level of hell right now.”
Salvatore couldn’t imagine how. “Why?”
“He wants her to marry him.”
Oh. Sal’s dealbreaker. Apparently, it would be Frankie’s, too.
A buzz in his pocket brought Salvatore from his thoughts. He checked the device to find a text from Larkin.
Congrats, Sal.
No boss man, but that didn’t matter. Larkin knew the difference.
“Fine!” came a shout so loud from the outside that Salvatore and Carina heard it despite the windows being closed. “Fine, I’ll fucking marry you!”
Both had to crane their necks to find where the two stood farther to the right of the house near stone benches and a small goldfish pond. They couldn’t hear Nico, but the wide gesture of his arms and the way his mouth moved looked a lot like thank you.
The two walked away, on opposite paths, again.
Larkin sent another text.
“Well, that’s that,” Carina sing-songed to her husband.
23. — all that is left...
Staten Island, New York
Frankie, Gallo Estate Guesthouse
The sight of the guesthouse’s white curtains backlit from dim light told Frankie two things as her gaze cleared of sleep. Morning arrived and she had fallen asleep again.
The gentle shift of the body she cuddled against, and the low exhale somewhere above her head followed the sensation of soft fingertips stroking circles along the top of her shoulder.
“It’s almost six-thirty,” Nico murmured softly. “Go back to bed.”
“Wasn’t supposed to sleep, anyway. Not if you weren’t.”
“If one of us can sleep, one of us should,” he returned.
Using the middle of his chest as a pillow, she couldn’t bear to look at him. His lack of sleep only meant one thing to Frankie. Even if he bent down to cup the side of her head before kissing her hair.
“You’re still mad at me,” she whispered.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Nico sighed hard. “Frankie—”
“You’ve been up all night. Why else would you stay up all night, if you weren’t mad at me?”
“You don’t know that I didn’t sleep.”
Finally, she lifted her head. His face told the story.
“You didn’t sleep,” she said, the truth final.
“Okay, I didn’t, but you did. That’s what matters. Between us, you’re the only one who really needs the rest.”
“You—”
“Stop,” he murmured, but not sharply. “I’m not mad,” Nico said after she laid her head back down on him. She traced lines along his chest, watching how his breathing steadied at her touch. “What did we say last night, Frankie?”