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“Why are you so adamant that I do this for myself?”
“And that’s the question you need to be asking. Why wouldn’t you do this for yourself? Are you saying you’re not worth betting on?”
“Oh, I see what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“Lighting a fire under my ass so I have something to prove.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. If you’re happy with your career and the company you work for, fine. But if you want to go out on your own, I think you’d be great at it.”
“Okay, can you not be so perfect?” I demanded.
He laughed. “How am I perfect?”
“You’re just—you’re so supportive. And kind. And good in bed.”
“I am all those things. Plus, I’ve got great hair.”
“Modest, too.” I snorted. “Thanks, Smoke. Thank you for the stained glass, it was thoughtful. Thank you for shaving because I asked. Thank you for talking to me when you don’t have to.”
He roped his arm around me and tugged me tightly against him. “You should ask for more in life. You deserve it.”
I fell asleep nestled in the crook of his arm, wondering if I deserved him.
Chapter 32
Tavy and I sat down at a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant for one of our impromptu catch-ups. It had been a crazy few days for me. Between juggling illicit meetings with Smoke and pondering my next career move, I’d finally found a window of time that coincided with Tavy’s schedule.
“I think my dad is dating someone,” Tavy announced.
“What makes you say that?” I asked lightly even though my heart was pounding in fear.
Yelling from the kitchen interrupted her reply and a moment later the kitchen door swung open and a woman who looked like she could be cast as an Italian grandmother in a film came out carrying several plates. She dropped them off at tables as she spoke in rapid-fire Italian.
I watched in fascination as she moved about the room, conversing with people who clearly didn’t speak Italian, yet they were nodding along and smiling.
Finally, the woman came to our table.
“Hello,” Tavy greeted with a smile.
The woman looked at Tavy, glanced at me, said a few sentences I couldn’t understand and then dashed away, disappearing into the kitchen.
“What just happened?” Tavy asked.
“No clue,” I said.
“No one’s brought us any menus,” she said.
The front door opened and my eyes widened when I recognized the couple strolling through.
“Logan!” Willa called.
Willa and Duke strode to our table. Her blonde hair was piled into a messy top bun and her skin glowed in the candlelight of the intimate restaurant.
“Hi,” I said in surprise. “What are you guys doing here?”
“This is our spot,” Willa explained. “Hi, Tavy.”
