“Shouldn’t you—?”
“So,” I say in my best big sister sing-song voice. “Tell me about your latest crush.”
Her forehead scrunches. “Boys? I don’t have time for boys. You know that.”
“Of course you do. Look at you. I bet they’re lined up on their knees begging and pleading for just one date.”
“You’resoright,” she teases. “My new crush is Marco Bellanti. Hedidask me to dance at the wedding, you know. He was completely smitten after I stepped on his fancy shoes.”
We laugh, both of us well aware that Livvie—for all her youth and passion—is way too smart to get caught up with a player like Marco. But my good humor is tainted by the sobering knowledge that if I hadn’t left Italy, my baby sister would be the one with Dante’s credit card. The one dealing with a hellish homelife, and a husband who didn’t care about her.
As we cross into Napa Valley, the temperature rises slightly, the air humid with a familiar weight and a mineral scent. I look in my rearview mirror and see storm clouds gathering in the distance. I should probably pull over and put the top up just to be safe, so we don’t get rained on, but nah. I’ll risk it. We’re almost home and the clouds still look pretty far off.
Just then, my phone rings. Probably Dante again. I ignore it, but Livvie grabs it from the center console and answers, pulling away when I reach for it.
“No, this is her sister,” she says. “Who’s calling, please?”
She makes eyes at me again and covers the phone speaker with her hand. “Who’s Rico?”
I swerve a little, catch myself, and settle back into my lane. Snatching the phone from my sister, I give it a nonchalant toss over the side of my door, letting it clatter onto the highway.
“Oops, dropped the call.”
Livvie is aghast. “Frankie! That’s your phone!”
“Hey, no talkingtoboys.Only about them.”
“I can’t believe you just did that!”
Ican’t believe I did that. Gripping the wheel, I will my racing heart to slow down and hope like hell nothing shows on my face.
“You are a total badass!” Livvie says, and I can’t help but laugh along with her.
Until the shrill whoop of a siren cuts our laughter short.
Red and blue lights flash in my rearview mirror.There’s a police car behind us.
Shit.
12
Frankie
A cop must have seenme toss the phone. We’re in Napa, so littering is a serious offense around here. Guess my new rich husband can pay for my ticket, then.
I pull over and have Livvie pass me the vehicle registration from the glovebox. I also have a fresh printout of my new insurance cards, luckily, which the dealer required for the sale.
The officer looks serious as he approaches, aviator sunglasses giving him an intimidating Terminator vibe.“License, registration, and proof of insurance, ma’am.”
I hand everything over with a warm smile that he doesn’t return. His thin lips pull into a disquieting, knowing kind of smirk as he scans the brand-new paperwork.
“Remain in your vehicle, please.”
He goes back to his cruiser and mynerves jump. Crap. What if the insurance didn’t go through? Or maybe the AmEx charge was somehow declined after all and the dealer wanted the car back.
“Oh my God, Frankie!” Livvie whispers in that disbelieving, teenager way.
“It’ll be fine.”
