Chapter 23
Giovanni
The taste of Tessa’s skin still lingers on my lips as we pull in front of my parents house after a long, silent drive.
Gliding my tongue behind my teeth, I taste the saltiness of her mixed with strawberry gelato.
Was it strawberry? Or was it cinnamon? Peach, maybe?
Truthfully, it could’ve been kerosene. I’ve had tunnel vision from the moment we arrived two days ago.
The scent of her pear shampoo perfumes the car, and I breathe it in, hoping it might stick to my clothes.
Opening my mouth to say something, anything, I immediately shut it, which is something I’ve been doing since the moment we climbed into the car. All the gaping is making my throat dry, but I avoid swallowing out of fear I’ll forget what happened today.
Go ahead, Gio. Kiss me.
I confirm with myself once again that yes, she did say that. She wanted this… wanted me. After everything we’ve gone through in New York, it’s nearly impossible to believe kissing her happened somewhere outside of my head.
I take a deep breath as I park the car. I hedge a quick glance at Tessa, who’s staring straight out of the windshield. We start talking at the same time.
“Hey, so—”
“I wanted to—”
Silence, then:
“You go—”
“Go ahead—”
This is fucking painful. I can’t help but laugh, and a slow grin spreads across Tessa’s face, too.
“Should we talk?” I ask.
Her dark brown eyes widen, but I’m not sure why she’s surprised. Things seem to be shifting with us, and I want to understand her feelings better.
She fiddles with her seatbelt. “Yeah. But, um, do you mean ‘talk’ like in a good way, or are you—”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
We startle at the knocking.
“What do you want, Mamma?” I ask dryly, rolling down my window.
“What a lovely greeting, Gio.” She squints. “Anyway, I came for Tessa. The fig crostata is ready to eat, and she wanted a slice.”
Tessa gives me one quick glance and a small shrug before stepping out of the car. “I’m so ready for this, Maria. Can’t wait!”
Both of them walk into the house, and I slump against my seat. After a few minutes of inner turmoil, I unfasten my seat belt and get out of the car. I pause at the threshold for a moment before stepping inside.
Mamma and Papa are sitting in their favorite armchairs, bickering about feeding Giuseppe. Tessa’s relaxing on the loveseat and smiling at their antics with a plate of crostata in her hands. I take a seat next to her and put my arm around the back of the sofa.
“How did it go? With Enzo?” Mamma asks.
Tessa and I both answer at the same time.
“Fine—”
“GREAT—”
Tessa whips her head toward me, probably wondering why I bellowed my answer. Mamma’s eyebrow raises as she studies us with a hefty dose of suspicion—or humor—it’s hard to tell.
“I thought you might want to join us for a game. We have UNO,” she announces, holding up the deck of cards.
Any other time, sure. But my pretend girlfriend and I need to talk, I think. I glance at Tessa, assuming we’re both ready to call it.
She turns to face Mamma. “That sounds lovely, Maria, thank you.”
Well.
Mamma beams, standing up from her chair. “I’ll serve the drinks. Do you want anything special?”
“Just water, please.”
Mamma nods. “Roberto, can you help me with the glasses?”
He follows her to the kitchen, leaving us alone.
Tessa takes another bite of the crostata and gives a little moan of delight.
I swallow. “So, about earlier…”
Tessa looks up at me through her long lashes, sitting a bit straighter. “Yeah?”
“How did you feel about the photoshoot?”
Coward. Now I have to commit to a line of conversation I didn’t even want to start.
She quirks an eyebrow and sets down her plate on the coffee table. “The photoshoot?”
I wipe my hand down my face in agony. “Yeah, how did you feel like it went?”
“I’m sure my modeling could’ve been better.” She gives me a wry grin. “And I think I ate enough gelato to last me the full trip.”
“Impossible.” I match her grin with one of my own.
I’m pretty sure she knows exactly what I’m trying to talk about, but neither of us appears to want to go there. I wonder if her reasons are the same as mine. Running my hand through my hair, I remember how soft hers was when I threaded my fingers through it.
Stop being a child and tell her how you feel.
Tentatively, I reach for her hand, gently placing mine on top. “Tessa, I—”
“How adorable are they, Roberto?” Mamma comes back from the kitchen holding two glasses, and Papa follows with two more.
Tessa flinches, her hand pulling away from mine. Snatching it back, I set our joined hands firmly on my thigh. She flushes but doesn’t move it this time.
“You’d think he’d bring you to us earlier, so I could witness the love between you two in person. Though, it’s just like Gio to keep his girlfriend all to himself for three years.”