“No, I mean…” She leans close, drops her voice. “After what you shared?”
By silent agreement, we’d both kept the conversation light, but that doesn’t mean my thoughts hadn’t strayed to our conversation this morning. I lean forward and take her hand. “I’m not going to cling to bravado and pretend that I’m not scared as hell that I’m going to fuck this up,” I admit.
“Leo,” she murmurs.
“But I’ve tried to ignore what’s between us.” I squeeze lightly. “And clearly, that hasn’t worked well for either of us.”
Her face goes soft. “No, it hasn’t.”
“And neither has just being friends—though, I’m not saying I don’t want to be friends, I do.” I want her to become my best friend. “I just…” I take a breath. “I want more.”
Unreadable hazel eyes on mine for a long moment.
Then she tightens her fingers around mine. “Me too.”
Relief is so heady it nearly makes me lightheaded. “What about you?” I ask. “Are you okay after sharing what you shared?”
“Yeah.” A breath. “I mean, it’s not pleasant, but I’m glad you know.”
That reminds me. “What’s Jeff’s last name?”
“My ex?” Her brows drag together. “Why?”
But before I can reply (or say something that’s not So I can find him and kick his good-for-nothing ass, along with your dad), Nonna’s back with a truly absurd-sized bag.
“This is too much, Nonna,” Harper protests.
“Nonsense.” She squeezes Harper’s shoulder. “Just keep growing that baby of yours. And you—” She narrows her eyes at me. “Put your wallet away and get your woman home.”
I blink. “But we haven’t paid yet.”
“And you won’t. Your money isn’t good here, bambino. For tonight anyway.” A wink. “Otherwise, my son will have my head.”
“Nonna—”
“Hush,” she orders and bustles off.
I shake my head. Then do it again. “Now I know how you were feeling,” I admit.
“I have a feeling that Nonna is a force of nature.”
“We know a few of those now, don’t we?”
She giggles. “Damn straight we do.”
“So…what do we do now?”
Harper smiles. “We take your advice from earlier.”
I lift my brows in question.
“We accept Nonna’s kindness.”
The drive back to Harper’s apartment is the quietest part of our evening.
We’re not chatting about the past or sorting out a path forward for our future. We’re not talking about work or training or little baby Reese. We’re not waxing poetic over the food or laughing about reality TV or discussing her upcoming events.
We’re just…quiet.
