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“And what’s that?”
“We don’t know. I’ve been running a gambling operation for a while, but we don’t need a second one.”
I hesitate. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own misery that I haven’t really thought about how he must be handling this. Which is weird, since I don’t actually care, but?—
“That must be hard. Want cheese?”
“No, thank you.” He sits in the chair next to mine and takes off his jacket, laying it down in his lap. “But yes, it’s frustrating. It doesn’t help that there’s a war going on with the Russians and the Irish. Renzo’s not exactly looking to expand right now.”
“Do I need to be worried about that?”
He shrugs and tilts is head. “Do you care if I get murdered?”
I tap a finger against my lips thoughtfully. “Well?—”
“Don’t answer that question, actually.” He sighs and stretches his neck. “I’ll figure it out.” When he looks at me again, his gaze sharpens. “What do you think of the house?”
“I love it,” I say automatically. It’s true, but I planned on being a little more guarded with him. I’m pleased when his face lights up at my compliment.
“That makes me happy. I’m glad you do.”
“And your note—” Well, I’ve come this far, I might as well say it. “You’re right. We did a good job together.”
“We make a good team.” He’s smiling slightly, but he’s not joking. I can tell by the way he looks at me, leaning closer, his body angled directly at me.
“At least when it comes to decorating a house. Which, by the way, isn’t finished yet.”
“You have my full permission to buy whatever you think it needs.”
“Famous last words. How much do you love the color purple?”
“Love?” His eyebrows furrow. “Are there other options?”
“Small love to big love. When it comes to purple, there’s no in-between. Okay, stop looking at me like you’re going to jump out of a tree, it’s fine, I’m not actually going to paint our place like the inside of Barney’s armpit.”
“That’s a relief. I don’t want to live in a sweaty children’s dinosaur.”
“You’d do it anyway, wouldn’t you? If I wanted to paint the walls hot pink, you’d let me.”
“I would.” And he doesn’t even smile about it, which is strange.
“Why?” I ask, truly mystified. “Feeling guilty or something? Is this your way of atoning for what you did ten years ago? I’m still not forgiving you for that, by the way.”
He glances away out toward the garden. “Something like that.”
“Seriously?” I laugh and throw a piece of cheese at him. He catches it and eats it with a glare. “Don’t give me that total BS. You’re not the self-flagellating type.”
“No, I definitely prefer to flagellate your lovely little ass.”
“Please no more spanking references.” I tilt up my chin and straighten my spine. “I’m a lady and I will not hear of it.”
“You’re a lady until you’re lying across my lap. Then you’re just a wet little girl begging to get fucked.”
“Oh, wow. Okay, you’re just going to talk dirty like that, huh? I can counteract your blatant attempts at flirting with cheese.”
“Doubtful. Not even cheese can stop me.”
We laugh together, and for the first time all day, I realize I haven’t thought about Sophia. Not in the chest-splitting way I’ve been obsessing since this morning. When he’s around, the pain’s only a dull rumble in the back of my mind, and sometimes it’s gone altogether.
