After our match sparked in my reality, the only threats the other Salvatore had to worry about were paying rent and keeping bullies off my back. I haven’t really seen him in action under this kind of pressure. Of course he’d be used to covering his tracks.
A flutter of affection passes through my chest, electrifying into a bolt of heat when he reaches over to squeeze my thigh through my skirt. An uneasy mix of desire and guilt tangles low in my belly.
He wants to spend time with his match—why wouldn’t he? In a regular matching, I’d want that too. The first few months after bonding are normally full of giddy joy.
I’ve kicked off both my unions under dark clouds. My men deserved better in both realities.
I can give him some time now, because I don’t want to hurt him with an outright rejection. Then I need to get on with catching the villain plotting my murder, both so the men now bound to me won’t end up in just as much danger… and so I can figure out some kind of balance in our new normal.
Maybe I can’t offer them my whole heart when it was already claimed in a totally different universe, but there’s got to be some way I can give them a happy life. Even if it comes down to waking up their glims and then letting them walk away to other romances.
The thought of the man beside me turning to another woman sets my teeth on edge, even though technically I’ve been with three other men before I ever sparked with him. I shove aside the mess of emotions as well as I can.
We leave behind the grand homes and sprawling yards of the prime lucent neighborhood for the towering skyscrapers and crowded streets of downtown. Salvatore drums his fingers against the steering wheel as he navigates the traffic and turns into an underground parking garage.
He leads me to one of the building’s elevators but doesn’t speak until it’s carrying us up through the many floors. “My families own a bunch of properties around the city—to rent out, to crash in, to hold business meetings or whatever. This condo is kind of a safe house. Hardly ever gets used. It’s my favorite place to hang out when I need a little space from all of them.”
He pauses and aims an unusually determined look at me. “I don’t let them controleverypart of my life.”
He’s referring to my rant at him during the Blossom-Bounty social a few weeks ago, which somehow swung him from harassing me to protecting me. I guess my criticisms made an impact.
A small smile crosses my lips. “I’m glad to hear that. You shouldn’t.”
My Salvatore chose to stick with me rather than giving in to his family’s demands, and I know he hated a lot about their criminal rackets. But he never stopped looking painfully hopeful whenever his phone rang unexpectedly, as if it might be one of his many aunts, uncles, and cousins calling to say they needed him after all.
This time I can give him a real choice. Be a match who can stand on her own rather than a tragic victim he feels obliged to shelter.
Salvatore unlocks a door next to the emergency stairs, which I guess is an ideal location if you want quick getaway options. Hopefully that feature won’t be relevant to my visit.
We step into a simple but modern-styled apartment: white walls and pale hardwood floors, sparse furniture that looks like it was all purchased from Ikea. Salvatore waves his hand toward the open-concept living-dining room. “Sit wherever you want. I promised dinner, and I’m going to deliver.”
He shoots me another grin and saunters over to the kitchen that’s more a nook than a room, next to a sliding glass door onto a narrow balcony.
I perch on the arm of the boxy sofa, not the coziest position but it means I can watch him and not be tempted to let my guard down too much. It seems wisest to fake a little confusion. “You’re cooking?”
Salvatore laughs, but his shoulders tense at the same time. “When my parents weren’t teaching me one lesson or another, my favorite place to hang out as a kid was the kitchen. Because there isn’t much Mom and Dad ever agree on, we had an Irish chef and an Italian one. I got a few lessons from them too.”
I didn’t want him to realize I already knew that, but I have no intention of jabbing a sore spot. The other Salvatorewas always insecure about his interest in making food after the harassment his relatives aimed at him the few times they caught him at it. I suspect this version of him had similar experiences.
I give him my warmest grin. “Now I’m even more curious. What are you making?”
Salvatore sets a pot and a pan on the stove and gets out a baking sheet. “Two of my favorite comfort foods. I feel like you could use some extra comfort these days, hmm?”
I can’t say he’s wrong. A pang of sharper affection swells through my chest. “Thank you.”
He glances over his shoulder at me. “It’s the least I can do for my match. Anyway, it’ll be nice to have someone to cook for other than just me. Make sure the lack of outside opinions hasn’t made me lazy.”
With another laugh, he grabs a bowl of pre-mixed dough and various other ingredients out of the fridge. I study his movements and can guess which recipes he’s picked before the creamy, salty smell starts to drift through the spartan space.
My mouth waters, but my stomach clenches up. I got out of doing more than sampling so many meals my Salvatore wanted to make for me by claiming I had sensitive digestion that reacted badly to anything rich. This Salvatore has no doubt seen Other Elodie chowing down on foods I usually prefer to avoid.
Having one not-especially-healthy meal isn’t going to hurt anyone, right? It shouldn’t be enough to raise my blood pressure or build up gunk in my arteries—for my glim to then inflict on whoever’s nearest.
When Salvatore opens the oven, sharp and doughy scents join the room’s delicious bouquet. After calling me to the table, he dishes the pasta he cooked onto two plates, sets a couple of rolls onto each, and carries them over balanced on his brawny forearms.
“Spaghetti carbonara and cheddar soda bread rolls,” he announces, setting one of the plates down in front of me. “Two different origins, so they shouldn’t go together, but they’re actually amazing. Just like you and me.”
He winks at me, still with the cocky grin, but there’s a boyish eagerness in his gaze that unravels all the defenses I’ve built.
