Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
I’m antsy. I haven’t seen Emilio since this morning, and he’s all I can think about. I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing. This is why I don’t like relationships. I don’t like being this person. The type consumed by someone else.
Who cares what he’s doing? So we had sex a few times? Really, really great sex. So he knows how to give orgasms? That doesn’t mean I need to spend every waking minute thinking about the man. Right?
I need to do something, anything. Get out of this apartment.
I know it’s lame, but I don’t have a lot of friends I can just call to hang out with.
I tend to stick to hanging out with my cousins or brothers.
Both of whom I’d like to avoid for the time being.
It’s always easier to hang out with them, because they know the drill.
They know what our family does and why there might be scary men following us at times for security purposes.
Kevin is the exception. He doesn’t ask questions about my family, other than the details of my boyfriend’s dick. I smile. My boyfriend. Emilio didn’t correct me when I called him that this morning.
I sit on my sofa and flick through Netflix. Not being able to settle on anything to watch is frustrating. So I pick up my phone and call my mom, because I need to talk to someone to distract my mind from Emilio.
“Hey, sweetheart. How was Mexico?” Mom asks as soon as she answers my call.
“Good. Can you meet me for a drink? Dinner?”
“Of course. Where do you want to meet?”
“My place? I can order in,” I suggest.
“I’ll bring something,” Mom tells me. “Be there soon.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.”
Half an hour later, my mom is walking through my front door. I have two empty wineglasses on my counter waiting.
“Hey, thanks for coming.” I wrap my arms around her. Other than my dad, my mom gives the best hugs. Well, Emilio’s aren’t too shabby either.
Damn it, I’m not supposed to be thinking about him.
“If you call, I’ll always come, Frankie. Now, tell me what’s bothering you?” Mom walks into the kitchen and drops the two bags of takeaway onto the counter.
“Why does something have to be bothering me for me to want to have dinner with my mother?”
“There doesn’t, but I know you and I know something is bothering you, so what is it?” she asks. “Did something happen in Mexico?”
“Yes, damn Emilio,” I groan, open the fridge, and pull out the chilled white wine.
“What did he do?” Mom takes a seat on the stool at the counter.
“He made me cave. I slept with him,” I admit. “More than once.”
My mom’s smile is so wide and giddy anyone would think I just told her I was nominated for a Nobel Prize.
“Oh… My… Lord… Frankie Giuliani, finally. I’m so happy for you!” She squeals in a high-pitched tone. She jumps off her stool, rounds the counter, and throws her arms around my neck. Then she pulls back so she can look me in the eye. “Why aren’t you happy about this? Was he… not good?” she whispers.
“Mom?” I raise a brow and shake my head. “He’s fine.”
When she finally lets go of me, I open the bottle of wine and start filling the two glasses.
“The problem is I can’t stop thinking about him. Like right now, I want to know where he is and what he’s doing. I don’t care. I don’t want to care where he damn well is. I don’t want someone else to be taking up this much space in my head.”
Mom sits down on the stool again, taking the glass I offer her. “You’re in love, sweetheart. It’s completely normal.”
“How do I make it stop?” I ask her.
“Make it stop? Why would you want to make it stop? Being in love is one of life’s greatest joys, Frankie.”
“It doesn’t feel like a joy. It feels like a worry.”
“If you’re worried about him, call him. Or text him. Put your mind at ease.”
“I’m not doing that.” I scowl. “I’m not being that clingy.”
“I have a feeling he won’t care how much you call or text him, Frankie.”
“I care,” I say, taking a gulp of the cold, sweet wine. I put my glass down. “You bought Chick-fil-A?” I open the bags of food and peer inside.
“It’s your comfort food,” Mom says.
It is. I love the chicken and the waffle fries… and the sauce. I grab a fry and pop it into my mouth. “You also need to talk to your son and tell him to stay out of my business.”
“Which one?” Mom groans.
“Alfie, he came here this morning and found Emilio. They got into a fight, broke my damn vase, and bruised each other up good. There’s also a bullet hole in my wall that needs fixing.”
Mom looks over at where I’m pointing at the wall. Then she takes out her phone, putting it to her ear after punching at the screen. “Alfie Louie Giuliani, why am I currently staring at a bullet hole in your sister’s wall?”
I smile around my food at my mom’s tone, imagining my brother squirming in discomfort.
Even as adults, no one wants to have the mom tone used on them. I don’t hear what Alfie says, but mom nods. “Fine, make sure you do. Love you too,” she tells him before cutting the call. She glances back over at me. “He’s going to come and fix it.”
“I don’t want him here.”
“He’s with Emilio right now. I could hear them in the background.”
“Why?” My eyes widen. Oh god, I swear if my brother is messing with Emilio after he promised me he’d leave it be, I’m going to kill him. Picking up my own phone, I do exactly what I’ve been avoiding and call Emilio.
He answers on the third ring. “Hey.”
“Where are you?” I rush out.
“Ah… you good?” he asks.
“Fine. Where are you, Emilio? Why are you with Alfie? Is he trying to kill you? Wait, if he’s trying to kill you, why are you answering the phone? Oh god, I should have called Elias.”
My mom is smiling wide, trying not to laugh at my obvious distress. Not helpful at all.
“I’m on a job, babe. I’m fine. Your brother is here for the same reason, not trying to kill me,” Emilio says.
“Oh… so… you’re good, then?”
“Yeah. Are you?”
“Fine,” I groan.
“Frankie?” Emilio questions.
“I have to go. My mom is here. Talk later. Forget I called,” I tell him before quickly cutting the call.
“So, that went well.” Mom laughs.
I squint my eyes at her. “Not helpful.” I shove a chicken nugget into my mouth.
I’ve spent the last few hours tossing and turning. Two nights. That’s how long it took for me to get used to sleeping next to Emilio. He didn’t come to my room last night. I was mortified after the phone call I made to him, so I didn’t bother calling him again.
When my alarm goes off, I throw the covers aside and fall out of bed. I pick up my phone, my finger sliding across the screen to swipe the alarm off, and then I’m stumbling my way into the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine. I’m going to need a really big cup or twelve today.
Just as I pull a mug down, there’s a knock at the door. I curse under my breath. If this is my brother again, I’m going to kill him. I swing the door open and my jaw drops. Standing there, in a black-on-black three-piece suit, is Emilio, holding a bunch of pink roses.
“Uh… Hi?”
“Hey, these are for you.” He hands me the flowers.
“Thank you.” I take them and stand here, staring at him like an idiot.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” I shrug and step aside, closing the door when he passes me.
“I’m taking you out for breakfast. Put some shoes on.”
“What?”
“You said you wanted to be wined and dined. This is me wining and dining you, babe.”
“You’re taking me to breakfast?” I ask.
“Yes. You need shoes.”
“I need a lot more than shoes, Emilio. I just crawled out of bed,” I groan.
“You look perfect to me.” He smiles sheepishly.
Looking down at the old band shirt I wore to sleep, I shake my head. “Okay, give me a few minutes,” I tell him as I run back into my room.
I put the flowers down on my bed, and a stupid smile spreads across my face.
Then I take the world’s quickest shower, brush my hair, and throw on a sundress and sandals. I don’t bother with much makeup. I don’t have time. A little mascara and lip gloss are all I can do.
When I walk back into my living room, Emilio holds out a cup to me. “I poured your coffee to go.”
“I think I love you,” I blurt out, taking the cup of black liquid gold.
“You think?” Emilio raises a brow.
“I was talking to the cup.” I wasn’t, but he doesn’t need to know that yet.
“Sure. You look fucking great.” Emilio’s eyes roam over the full length of my body.
“You ready to go?”
“Yeah, come on.” He takes hold of my hand, stopping when we get to the door. “I forgot something,” he says and then presses his lips to mine. “I don’t like sleeping without you.”
“I didn’t sleep great,” I admit.
“You should have called me.”
“I don’t want to be needy.”
“I want to be needed by you, Frankie.”