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I adjusted the hard length of my cock behind her, already throbbing beneath my zipper, and fell in line.
By the time I made it to the kitchen, Gemma had acquired the rolls and taken a seat on one side of the table, leaving me the only empty one on the other side.
I rounded the table and pulled out the chair with ease.
At least if I was sitting, I wouldn’t have to worry about my body’s uncontrollable reactions being exposed.
Nonna reached for my hand and Gemma’s and made a stern face to indicate we should close off the circle.
Gemma was hesitant, so I held out an innocent hand, palm up, giving her the space to get comfortable.
Nonna wasn’t as generous.
“Are you going to take his hand anytime this century? I’m starving, and the Lord needs his thanks before I can rectify that.”
I smothered a smile as Gemma dropped her hand into mine, and I tucked my thumb around the back of it swiftly.
Her hand felt right there, small and delicate in the middle of my large one, and my stomach turned over at the seemingly disproportionate reaction of my heart. It was just holding hands, for shit’s sake.
Nonna dove right in. “Dear God Almighty, thank you for this grub. Thank you for directing Leonard into the arms of his dear aunt again, and for sending me a gem like Gemma. Just work on the timing next time.”
Gemma’s lips sucked in on themselves, and I had to disguise my laugh as a cough.
Only my Nonna could get away with including direction for God in the middle of one of her prayers.
“In the name of food and Jesus,” she finished, “Amen.”
As I dug into the food and gave Gemma the space to freak out, I said a little prayer of my own in my head.
Dear God, thank you for coincidences. And for direct access to a blond I can’t seem to get enough of.
Today, I would let her off the hook. But now that I knew where to find her, all bets on the rest were off.
First order of business: shut down that Reddit article for good.
Second order of business: ask Gemma on a date, and don’t take no for an answer.
After an awkward and completely surprising lunch at Alma’s house, I stopped by my parents’ for a quick chat and some pie.
For one, I needed the distraction from the fact that I was still trying to wrap my mind around the weird circumstances that kept bringing Mr. Sexy Football Star and me together.
And two, well, my mom had texted and called me no less than six times in the past week, and apparently, the family reunion between Alma and Leonard was inspiring enough to make me do something about it.
Unfortunately, that’s where the resemblances stopped. While Leo “Leonard” Landry and Alma had quickly moved from guilt over time and distance to jokes and affection, my family had only gotten colder by the minute. Any time spent here today would apparently be interrogatory rather than quality.
And the lead time hadn’t been great either. I’d hardly eaten three bites of my mom’s apple pie before Grandpa Joe started in on me.
“All right, I’ll be the first one to say it,” Grandpa Joe announced. “When are you going to cut the crap, Gemma, and finish your degree?”
My mother sighed.
My dad nodded in agreement.
And me? Well, I kind of felt like flipping my granddad off, but I knew that wouldn’t exactly help paint the picture that I was a responsible adult. The whole “you need to finish your degree” conversation had been nonstop since I’d let my family know I’d dropped out of school, and it wouldn’t end until I did something to change it.
Working for Alma packaging pleasure goods wasn’t exactly the answer. And neither was flipping the bird.
For now, I’d just have to take their questions and bear them.
“I’m not sure.” I shrugged and picked at a few rogue apples on my plate. “I left school for a reason. Going back now doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s a bullshit reason, if you ask me,” he muttered, and my mother sighed again.
“Grandpa Joe!” she whisper-yelled, actually standing up for me for once. “I think you’re being a little hard on her.”
“I’m giving her the kick in the ass she needs,” he retorted.
“Grandpa, I love you, I really do,” I interjected, “but I think it’s about time you realize being an engineer is yours and Dad’s dream, not mine.”
He pursed his lips. “Careers aren’t goddamn dreams, Gemma. They’re careers. They’re supposed to be practical and pay a good wage. Not achieve some crazy fantasy.”
“Gemma, your grandpa’s right,” my dad chimed in. “You can’t live paycheck to paycheck doing temp work for the rest of your life. You need to start thinking about your future. Maybe we’d be a little more lenient if you’d actually point yourself in a direction and do something real with your life instead of wandering around like a vagabond.”
