Chapter 16
16
G ia
"Can I look?" I ask, touching the blindfold mask Dante fastened on me thirty minutes ago before he slipped me into his car.
"Not yet," he says, guiding me through a space. I follow his lead, wondering if he took me to a sex club in the middle of the day. He asked Amara to come over and watch AJ for a few hours, so at least I know he's not taking me out for a long time.
I inhale, trying to smell something. If this were a sex club, I'd hear moans and smell sex and leather. Instead, my nostrils pick on the hint of cleaning products mixed with the subtle scent of shoes. Worn shoes, not brand-new ones. So, he's not taken me shopping.
Yesterday, I told him to stop worrying. I should follow my own advice.
"Now," he says, and I yank it off quickly.
I look around and bask in the many empty, long, narrow lanes, the colorful paintings on the walls, and the monitors and tables at the end. A smile lights up within me, and I tilt my head at him. "A bowling alley."
"You mentioned you'd like to go occasionally," he says casually.
I scan the large space, realizing the place has no one but us. Did he rent an entire bowling alley for us? I clear my throat, a silly emotion taking charge of me. Of course, he did.
"Did you pay extra for this place or threaten whoever manages it to kick everyone out?" I ask, only half-jokingly.
He winks at me, and I welcome the easy energy between us. "Does it matter?"
I shake my head, then turn around and grab a ball from the rack. "Are you good at this?"
"I haven't gone bowling since my teens, but I'm good at most things," he says with his usual cocky confidence.
Boy, don't I know it . "So you mean you haven't played in a few decades?" I tease him, nudging his forearm with my free hand.
He picks one ball from the rack. "Funny."
I stare at him, at the few crinkles around his eyes, the couple of streaks of grey that one has to come close to see, weaving their way amongst his dark blond locks. Damn it, he's a handsome thirty-nine-year-old. But he's about to get his ass kicked.
"Go first," I say.
"Is that a power move? You want me to start so you can study my moves?" he asks but doesn't shy away from my request.
"Maybe I just want to watch… you," I say.
Shaking his head, unconvinced, he walks over to the screen in the middle and adds our names, his first in line.
A thread of confidence, one I haven't experienced in I don't know how long, skates up my spine. When I was a teenager, I used to go to alleys with friends, and sometimes, even my mom would take me on weekends. After I married Ciro, I'd gone only a couple of times. He wasn't the dating type, and honestly, my goal was to spend less time with my miserable husband and not more.
Dante positions himself in front of the lane, his strong frame locked in position. Even doing something trivial, he's so fucking hot. He plays, and to my advantage, he finishes his frame with a spare.
When it's my turn, I strike on my first throw.
"All right," he says. "I never shy away from a challenge. Let's do this."
For the next hour, we played, we provoked each other, and although he was a worthy opponent and delivered some beautiful strikes, I won.
"Well done," he says, high-fiving me. "You humbled my ass real quick."
I chuckle. "I enjoy that. Maybe I should try that more often."
"Don't get too comfortable," he says as he texts.
Minutes later, Andrei shows up, carrying a tray with hot dogs and drinks.
We sit at one of the tables, and this would have been a regular date—had he not had to secure the place. I bite into my hot dog, and it's delicious. I also recognize the logo on the napkin—it's an elevated brand and not the greasy type we'd probably get from the grill bar of the bowling alley if he hadn't sent the employees packing.
"Winning looks good on you," he says, interrupting my thoughts. "Your face is glowing."
"I haven't realized how much I need this. Thank you."
He takes a sip of his drink and then leans closer. "I needed it, too."
I nod, and we eat in silence, my insides bursting with hope and positivity. God, when I told him not to worry, I was selfish. I wanted to distract myself from questions and overthinking. And sure, a part of me wanted to follow my own advice—and now that I have, a different worry stabs at me, quietly and steadily. What will I do when I'm out of his life and still need him in mine?