Chapter 14
Juliette
I couldn’t sleep.
It had been close to an hour since Wes had turned off the light, and I was still staring up at the ceiling, feeling wide awake despite the long day. I’d assumed Wes would conk out pretty quickly, considering the day’s emotional toll, but I hadn’t heard his breathing smooth out yet.
“Wes?” I whispered. “Are you still awake?”
“Yeah.”
I turned to face him and tucked my hands under my cheek. “Where would you see yourself in five years, if you didn’t work for my father?”
He was quiet a moment. “If we’re playing in the land of make believe, then I’m back on the force. Maybe in a different unit and with a higher rank that comes with more pay.”
I smiled. “What unit would you want to be in?”
Wes had been lying on his back, but he now turned to face me. It was dark, but not so much that I wasn’t reminded how handsome he was.
“I always thought I might want to go into the Special Victims Unit—work with women and children who were abused.”
I didn’t have to ask why that would interest him, not after finding out how his father had treated his mother.
“Do you think you’d be married with children?”
“Maybe. I’d like to have a couple of kids someday.” He lifted his chin. “What about you? Where would you like to be?”
“Well, I’ll be thirty-two in five years, so I’d love to be married and have a child.
Possibly even pregnant with a second.” I smiled, imagining it.
“I’d love to continue working, too. Maybe part time.
To me, that would be the best of both worlds.
My mom never worked, and I feel like her identity was her family, and she could’ve used something of her own to be passionate about. ”
“That sounds nice.”
I sighed. “Too bad it will likely never happen.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for starters, since I moved out to California, I haven’t even told a man my real last name.
Imagine dating me for a while and then one day I drop a bomb that my last name isn’t what I go by and oh, by the way, my dad is Vince Ginocassi, head of one of the five families.
” I scoffed. “I’m pretty sure Jett would’ve run the other way if I’d told him. ”
Wes scoffed. “Jett’s a weasel. I told you, any real man won’t care about who your family is. He’ll take you for who you are, no matter what obstacles come with it.”
“I guess I haven’t met any real men then yet.” I placed a palm on Wes’s chest. “Present company excluded.”
He didn’t respond, but I heard his breathing grow labored. My heart pumped faster.
“As long as we’re living in the land of make believe,” I said. “Could you…see yourself coming home to me?”
“I thought I was a cop.”
I smiled. “You are. I didn’t mean come home to me because you work for my dad. I meant because you want to.”
“Juliette…”
“What? You said in the car that wanting me wasn’t a problem. Are you attracted to me?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“Maybe. But I’d really like to hear you say it.”
Wes was quiet for a long time again. When he spoke, his voice was gritty. “You’re unbearably beautiful. When I look at you, it’s impossible to think of anything else. A lack of attraction is probably the one issue we don’t have.”
My heart thumped. “I’m very attracted to you, too.”
Maybe I was a glutton for rejection, but I couldn’t help myself lately. “We could…spend one night in the land of make believe and go back to reality tomorrow.” I gnawed on my bottom lip and lowered my voice. “I really want to touch you right now, Wes.”
He let out a loud, painstaking groan. “Fuck.”
“What? Don’t you want to touch me?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want, Juliette.”
“Because of my dad?”
“Because I can’t get involved with someone I’m protecting. That’s dangerous for more than one reason. I need to keep my mind and emotions sharp, not clouded with things that distract me from doing my job.”
Because of the way I grew up, I could understand that, at least in theory. Though in reality, I wasn’t able to let go of my idea. “What about when you’re done protecting me? When I’m no longer your job. Would you let me touch you then?”
Wes abruptly shot upright. “I’m sorry. I need to go sleep on the couch. I can’t stay in the room with you tonight.”
“What? No. What about your mom? What will she think?”
He stood from the bed and grabbed a pillow. “I’ll tell her I didn’t want to wake you with my snoring.”
I rose to my knees on the bed. “No, don’t go. I’ll back off, I promise.”
Wes shifted the pillow to under one arm and grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand.
When he pulled it from the charger it illuminated, allowing me to see him more clearly.
And what I saw made my eyes grow wide. Wes was wearing sweats, but he very obviously had an erection. A long, thick one. I licked my lips.
Wes groaned. “Fuck. Don’t look at me like that, Juliette. I have to go. Now.”
***
The following day felt endless. We attended Wes’s grandmother’s funeral, then flew back to California.
By the time we made it to my place, it was almost ten at night, even with the three-hour time change.
Things between Wes and I had been strained ever since he’d gone to sleep on the couch last night.
He’d pretty much kept three feet of distance between us at all times.
Before we boarded the plane, we’d had two aisle seats across from one another.
But when we’d checked in, Wes had moved to a window seat so there was a man separating us for the entire six-hour flight.
It was finally just the two of us in my house now, yet it still felt like we were a mile apart.
I fixed myself a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, vanilla ice cream, and caramel syrup, and offered to make one for Wes.
Instead of his usual sarcasm about what I was eating, he politely declined.
I’d turned the air conditioning off before we left, so it was a zillion degrees in the house, yet Wes didn’t take off his shirt, even though sweat beaded on his forehead.
I couldn’t take the awkwardness anymore and was trying to figure out how to fix what I’d done to us when my phone rang. It was my mom. Ten here meant one AM at home, so I quickly swiped to answer. “Hi, Mom. Is everything okay?”
“Other than having one week left in my fifties, it’s fine.”
“You don’t look like you’re even fifty yet, so no one has to know.”
She sighed. “I feel old.”
“Are you sure everything is okay? You don’t usually call so late.”
“Everything’s fine, sweetie. Your dad asked me today what I wanted for my birthday next week, and I told him I wanted to be off lockdown and see my baby. I miss you.”
I’d been so wrapped up in myself, I hadn’t given any thought to the idea that my mom was likely on lockdown, too. My heart squeezed. “I miss you, too, Mom.”
“Good. Because I booked us a spa day at some fancy place in Beverly Hills.”
“Oh. Okay. That sounds great. You’re coming to LA then?”
“I am.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow. Or rather today, since it’s past midnight here.”
“You’re coming…tomorrow?”
“I take off at seven AM New York time. Dad booked me a private flight. I’m packing as we speak. It’ll be a quick trip, but I want to see you.”
“Wow. Okay.” I had a million things to do now that I was finally back home, but I guess it would all still be there after she left.
I tried to sound enthusiastic, though I had mixed feelings about my mom coming for a visit.
Our relationship had been strained the last few years.
Unfortunately, my disconnecting from my father’s life had spilled over to my mom’s life as well.
“That’s great, Mom. I can’t wait to see you. ”
“I should be to you about noon, your time.”
“Perfect.”
“Gotta pack. See you soon, baby.”
“Goodnight, Mom. Safe travels.”
Wes came into the kitchen just as I hung up the phone. I sighed. “You might want to prepare for a storm that’s rolling in tomorrow.”
Wes lifted his phone and pressed a few buttons, then turned it to show me the screen. “Says it’s going to be eighty and beautiful tomorrow. Just like every other day out here.”
I shook my head. “The storm isn’t the weather. It’s Frannie Ginocassi. My mother is coming tomorrow.”
***
Francesca Concetta Grecco Ginocassi didn’t do things halfway.
My mother arrived at my house at two in the afternoon, two hours later than she’d told me on the phone last night, wearing a leopard-print wrap dress, four-inch heels, and big gold hoop earrings.
Her dark hair was teased high—frozen in place with Aqua Net, no doubt—and her long nails were painted fire-engine red.
She looked like she’d just stepped off an old episode of The Real Housewives of New Jersey.
She held four big shopping bags in one hand, a pink pastry box from her favorite bakery in Brooklyn in the other— surely filled with cannolis—and tucked under the same arm like an accessory was none other than Chester, her Siamese cat.
“Hi, Mom.” I kissed her cheek, and Chester gave me the side-eye. He was extremely territorial. “Are you moving in? I didn’t realize you were bringing your cat.”
She set down the shopping bags and stroked the top of her feline best friend’s head. “Sorry I’m late. I passed this strip of amazing boutiques, and I couldn’t help myself. I did a little shopping for you.”
“Shopping for me?” Oh no. My mom meant well, but that meant rhinestone belts and animal prints. My taste was simpler and understated.
Wes came out of the kitchen. “Mom, this is Wes Callahan.”
“Hi, Mrs. Ginocassi.” He extended a hand. “It’s nice to—” His words were cut short by a sneeze. Then another. And still a third. He pulled his hand back. “Sorry. I’m a little allergic to…” He sneezed once more. “Cats.”
I raised a brow. “A little? Your eyes are already red and watering.”
Mom put her hand over her heart. “I’m sorry. Everyone usually loves my Chester.”
“It’s fine,” Wes said. “I’ll just go in the other room. It was nice to meet you.”