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“Sure.” Erin was starting to really like Mallory. “I’ll have Giovanni call Finn and set something up.”
“Great. I better go. I still have to pick up the kids.”
“Bye.” Erin smiled, savoring the sensation of a completely normal conversation with another girl. Did this mean Mallory was her friend? She should have asked for her phone number—No, too much.
She’d have Giovanni call Finn. That was better.
Bagging up some green apples, she wove up and down the aisles, grabbing a few more items before checking out.
That night, Giovanni didn’t come over. Erin made enough dinner for two, but wrapped his up and put it in the fridge. When she called him, he didn’t answer until the third ring, like he was asleep.
“Hello?” he rasped, sounding half asleep.
“Where are you?”
He groaned. “Home. I fell asleep.”
“You could have called.”
“Sorry.”
She sighed. They were so out of sync she couldn’t wait until he had a day off. “I saw Mallory at the market today. She wants to get together with us again. I told her you’d call Finn to set something up.”
“Pass.”
She frowned. “What?”
“The last person I feel like seeing in my free time is Finn. I have to listen to him barking out orders all day. I’d rather not have to hear his voice on my day off.”
Disappointed, she tried to see things from his perspective. She supposed Finn was now his boss, so she could understand how that might make hanging out awkward, but they were still cousins.
This was awful. Giovanni was so miserable working there and it was still his first week. Maybe he needed time to adjust. It was a strenuous job and he wasn’t used to that sort of labor. He’d probably feel better once he received a paycheck.
“I listed the house today.”
Silence.
“It’s scary and exciting. The realtor thinks I can get over two hundred thousand for it, and Harrison told me I could keep whatever it sells for.” Her brother never returned her call about the store.
“Wow. That’s a lot of money.”
“I know.” She never had that sort of money. “I want to buy you something when it sells, so give me some ideas.”
“I’m set.”
She tsked. “Giovanni, let me spoil you a little. I want to.”
He made a non-committal sound. “I should really get back to sleep. I have to be up at the crack of dawn.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Bye…” She hung up the phone feeling as lost as a balloon cut from its string.
For the rest of the week, it was much of the same, Giovanni complaining about the cold weather and exhaustion while Erin internally panicked that their relationship might never be the same.
When the weekend finally arrived, she was grateful to have him all to herself. They lounged around, watching old comedies and ordered pizza for lunch, eating the leftovers for dinner.
She missed simply being close to him and constantly curled into his side. He laughed at the movies but then something sad would take over his eyes. He used to be so happy, but lately, he seemed trapped under some oppressive fog he obviously wasn’t ready to discuss with her. Was it work? Family? Finance? Or was it them?
She couldn’t bear another second of him in this mood. She didn’t want to be confrontational and pick a fight, but sometimes non-confrontation made situations worse. She needed to know what he wasn’t communicating and why he wasn’t communicating with her.
Her hand trembled as she picked up the remote and shut off the TV. “We need to talk.”
He lifted a brow. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“I think you should stop working at the lumberyard. You hate it.”
“It’s a decent job.”
“There are other decent jobs. And what about standup? You’re just going to give up after all the work you put into it?”
He stood and carried their plates into the kitchen, not bothering to answer. She grabbed their glasses and followed him.
“Giovanni—”
“What? Don’t you get it? I don’t want to discuss this!”
She drew back, her heart jolting in her chest, a nauseating fear swilling in her stomach. Countless times in her life, she’d been yelled at and worse, but never by him. The shock startled her fight or flight response into action and tears sprung to her eyes.
He winced as if equally surprised by his temper. Softening his voice, he apologized, “Sorry. I just really don’t want to talk about this.”
Not wanting to upset him anymore, she nodded tightly and watched him leave the kitchen. She clutched the glasses protectively to her chest as the wall pressed into her back. She let out a shaky breath and walked the cups to the sink, turning on the water and bracing her hands on the counter, waiting for a sense of balance to return.
Her throat constricted and the familiar instinct to run somewhere safe burned in her chest. But where would she go? This was her home.
