18. Gemma
Chapter 18
Gemma
Tossing my keys on the counter, I heaved a sigh of relief. The week leading up to Christmas in a bar was insane. The place was packed, there wasn’t a minute of downtime, and even though my feet were screaming, you wouldn’t hear me complain about the extra tips I’d earned.
We’d closed early today as it was Christmas Eve, and I headed straight for the shower. It had been forever since I’d had a night off, let alone a whole day, so I planned to sit around in my pajamas doing nothing for a solid forty-eight hours.
The minute I entered my bedroom, I stripped down and stepped into the bathroom, turning the faucet to let the water heat. Steam rose from the tub, and as soon as the mirrors were foggy, I stepped inside the shower.
A moan slipped past my lips, the hot water providing relief for the stiff muscles of my neck and shoulders. I stood there for a while, letting it rush over my skin until it was pink, and before I could stop it, my mind wandered to home.
Enzo had sent me pictures of the girls a few weeks back, and my heart twisted, knowing I would miss Serafina’s first Christmas. She was nine months old, and I could imagine how entranced she’d be by the lights on the Christmas tree. Bianca had been the same way at her age, so I could picture her sparkling eyes, filled with wonder, as she crawled closer to get a better look.
Bianca was now four, and this would be the first Christmas without her mother. God, I would give just about anything to squeeze her tight, to let her know she was loved. Even though Matteo was warmer than either of our fathers had been growing up, it didn’t come close to the type of affection a child needed to thrive. And from what I’d heard, he had been distant, closed off, since Allegra’s passing.
I couldn’t say I blamed him; the circumstances of her death were still unsettled, and he felt responsible. Allegra’s ties to our family were ultimately what had gotten her killed. Spending time with his girls had to be painful, knowing he couldn’t protect their mother, wondering if one day, he wouldn’t be able to protect them either.
As much as I missed them and would have given anything to see their tiny faces light up when they discovered the bounty of gifts left by Santa, I couldn’t go home. I’d been lucky to make it out at all, and returning was too risky.
The last thing I needed was for my father to find out where I was. The man didn’t have a moral compass, and I wouldn’t put it past him to kidnap his own daughter.
As long as I was alive and unwed, I was an asset to him.
I shivered, and it took my brain a minute to catch up. Lost in thought, I’d been standing in the shower for so long that the hot water had run out, and I was now being pelted by a freezing spray from the showerhead.
Fucking fantastic.
Rushing through the process of washing my hair and soaping my body, I rinsed off, but not before my skin went numb. Teeth chattering, I grabbed a towel, rubbing it over every exposed inch, hissing when tingles erupted, letting me know I was getting feeling back.
When I stepped into the bedroom, a strange yapping sound caught my attention. Shrugging it off, I tugged on flannel pajamas, shoving my ice-cold feet into thick wool socks.
Maybe tonight, I’d get a chance to test out the gas fireplace in the living room. Most nights, I got home so late that there wasn’t time to relax. It was a quick shower and straight to bed before repeating the process all over again, so I hadn’t been able to enjoy lounging before a roaring fire on a cold winter’s night. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d turned on my TV.
That’s how sad my life was— viewing a quiet night in as a luxury experience.
Whatever. At least I was living life on my own terms, which was not something I could’ve said a year ago.
Making my way downstairs, the yapping got louder.
What the hell was that?
Moving around the kitchen and living room, I was able to track it to the shared backyard for this row of townhouses. It was pitch-black outside—even though it was only six; our days were short, just past the winter solstice—so I couldn’t see what was making the noise, but it finally clicked what the source was: a puppy.
Greaaaaaaaat.
One of the neighbors must have thought it a brilliant idea to get their kids a puppy for Christmas, and now I’d be kept up all night by its constant barking.
Closing my eyes, I prayed that it wouldn’t be one of the ones on either side of me where we shared a wall. After taking a cleansing breath, I flicked the switch on the floodlight that would illuminate the backyard, and I’d be able to peek through my sliding glass door to see who the little yapper belonged to.
“What the fuck?” I yelled before opening the door so forcefully that it was a miracle the glass didn’t shatter.
“Babe! He loves the snow!” an all-too-familiar voice shouted back.
Digging the heels of my palms into my eye sockets, I hoped that when I pulled them away, I’d discover this to be some kind of hallucination brought on by exhaustion.
Okay. On the count of three.
One.
Two.
Three.
Oh, fuck no.
A few feet away, a golden-haired puppy and a golden-haired man were rolling around in the foot of snow that had accumulated over the past few days.
This is not happening.
“Sasha,” I drew his name out in warning. “What did you do?”
Blue eyes sparkling in the light shining on him, he stood, hefting a snow-covered furball into his arms. “Merry Christmas, baby! Do you love him?”
I let out a disbelieving huff. “Oh no. You did not buy me a puppy.”
Stepping closer, he nuzzled the dog, letting it lick his face. “Isn’t he cute? I thought we could call him Cannoli. You know, since you’re Italian and you’re my favorite dessert? He’s a golden retriever. You get it?”
Good lord. Now there’s two of them.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to rein in my irritation.
“I wanted you to have someone to cuddle when I’m on the road.” He pressed an icy kiss to my cheek.
“It’s a really nice thought,” I began. “But it looks like he has a lot of energy.” Like someone I know. “And it wouldn’t be fair to have him cooped up all day while I’m at work. Seems like the two of you have bonded, so maybe you can keep him over at your place.”
“No can do.” Sasha shook his head, the snow-clumped strands of his hair whipping his face. “I’m gone for days at a time when the team’s on the road.”
I threw my hands in the air. “Then hire a dog-sitter, or kennel him, or take him back!”
“How about this? I have the next few days off. I can crate-train him for you. That way, when you go to work, he’ll be fine until you get home.”
“Sasha, no.” I kept my tone firm.
He pressed his lips together in an exaggerated pout, holding the puppy up so they were cheek to cheek. “How can you say no to this sweet face?”
And just like that, my forty-eight hours of peace and solitude went up in smoke.