13. Obsession & Privacy Violations
Chapter 13
Obsession talk to someone other than Xander. No offense to him or anything, but I’m sure he’s tired of hearing my shit.
“She sounds perfetta.”
Truly? My mother complimenting a woman I want? I never thought I’d hear the words.
“I want to marry her one day. You know the feeling? Hell, we haven’t even known each other long at all and I already feel it—like it’s been a lifetime . Our souls are meant to find each other.”
“When you know, you know. Sì.” She pats my cheek lightly.
Xander nudges my shoulder and gives me a wink. “It took you a week and you’re already madly in love with this woman.”
“We can talk about someone else’s personal life now,” I say.
“Yours is much more interesting,” Xander whispers, “Did you tell her what we do?”
“No.” I shake my head. Hopefully it stays that way.
My phone vibrates from a text. I pull it out of my pocket, about to peer down. There’s a strict rule about no phones at the table. But Antonella’s coming back tonight, and I have been antsy all day waiting for her return.
“Hey! No phones!” Momma reaches over and swats my hand hard enough to sting with her special wooden spoon.
“ Ah !” I shake my hand out. No matter how old I am, it always hurts. I peer down at the text on my screen, preparing to be hit yet again. It never comes.
Moglie
Almost there, pulling up to the last stop before Chicago.
“I have to go, Antonella is almost at the train station. ” I glare at my mother, fueled by pure satisfaction. “I’m picking her up.”
“She doesn’t drive?”
“I offered for her to take one of my cars. She flat out refused and is being unequivocally stubborn. I’m trying to spoil her. She’s set in her ways; said she wasn’t in the best emotional state to drive.”
“You should’ve gone with her.” Momma’s glower softens into a more… compassionate expression.
Would it have been overstepping? If she wanted me there, she would’ve asked. Right?
“I didn’t want to impose.” I wave.
“Since when?” She snorts, swirling the red wine in her glass around in a circle by the stem.
Not elaborating on the extent of the privacy violations to my mother. She’d have my ass. “Since she was distraught. Couldn’t bother her too much.” I hum, scratching my chin. Cazzo, should I have at least offered and given her the chance to say no?
“I’m sure. You said heart attack? Scary. ” Momma places her heart over her heart.
“He’s recovering exceedingly well. I sent flowers,” I add. There’s a certain little twinkle in my mother’s eye.
“Let me treat her to a shopping day. I’ll set her right. I’ve always wanted a sister!” Giulietta finally speaks up about a conversation which has been finished for a little bit now. The one about being spoiled, of course. Shockingly, she wasn’t in my personal business earlier. “I mean, Kita’s usually in New York.”
Suspicious .
I shake my head and then take a moment to think about it. “Actually, she could use an entire new wardrobe…”
“Perfetta!” Giulietta claps her hands together like a giddy little girl. “We’ll have a good time— trust .”
“If she agrees to do it, of course. That’s the hard part.” I tap my chin. Or I won’t give her a choice in the matter, seeing as she’ll likely say no on her own accord. “Giulietta, I have another question for you.”
She turns fully toward me, leaning in and flipping her long, golden blonde hair back over her shoulders. “Che?”
“Can you write down a list of all things you’d stock your bathroom with? She doesn’t have much. Also, I don’t understand the girly products.”
Her entire face lights up. “ Absolutely .”
“Grazie.” I tap the top of her head and stand. I walk to the front double-door entrance of the house, leaving without saying goodbye to anyone. Because if I start… I’ll never be able to get out of here on time.
I walk into the Union Station, following the signs to the tracks. I’ve never been here before, but it’s dead here at this time of night.
I made a stop in some of the stores in the downtown area while waiting for her to arrive. I got here a little bit early so I could pick up all of the products Giulietta sent to me for Antonella. I pull my phone out, because according to the arrival time she sent, she should be here. I’m too eager and impatient. I want her back in my line of sight. Now .
Where are you?
Moglie
About to get off the train, track 4
OK
I go up the escalators to where all the trains are and find a whole bunch of different tracks, most are empty—but there’s the one I’m looking for right on track four. I stand there, waiting for my woman. I wait as a sea of people flood off.
Where is she?
My heart practically jumps out of my chest when my eyes land on this bombshell.
There she is, with exhaustion written on her face, and a backpack slung over her shoulders. It’s nine in the evening after all. I’m sure she’s ready to crawl into bed and pass out. An image of her crawling pops into my mind.
Certainly not an unwelcome thought.
I suppress a groan, clearing my throat as she walks toward me. Her long, beautiful brunette waves cascade down the entire length of her torso, and her heavy hung eyes—she is bellissima.
“Hello again, amore.” The corners of my mouth lift up against my will as I take the bag from her.
She mutters, “Hi.”
Hmm, not as happy to see me as I hoped she’d be. I’ll chalk it up to stress. I ask, “How’s your father?”
“Better. Back to his normal self. Acting as if nothing happened.” She scoffs with a slight grin twitching at her top lip.
Atta girl . Come back to me.
“He got a stent put in and they’re going to monitor him for another day. I offered to stay longer. Unfortunately, I have to go to work tomorrow. Mama told me it’s okay to come home.”
“You love your family,” I state the obvious.
“Of course. They’re all I have.”
Not for long, amore— is what I want to tell her. Instead, I offer her my arm and a gentle smile as we walk through the train station to the parking garage. We get into my car and she’s a lot more quiet than normal. I mean, her father’s still in the hospital. I’m sure she’s emotionally exhausted and worried.
“Thank you, for sending flowers. Even though… I didn’t tell you where we were. How you got the information…” She trails, glancing out the corner of her eye at me with suspicion .
I tighten my grip around the steering wheel. Did my smart girl figure it out? My jaw clenches, preparing for her truthful accusation—it never comes. After a moment of silence between us, I say, “You’re welcome, amore.”
“They’re beautiful. My parent’s appreciated it. I left the little detail out.”
“Yeah?”
“ Sì,” she replies , breathless .
“Why?” Surely she could’ve told them. It’s a red flag. She has every right to freak out.
“Do you think I want to go home? They’re already on my ass because I am living with you.” Her melodious giggle is music to my ears—sounding more like herself again.
I exhale, relieved. That’s my girl.