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“You got a mirror around here?” he asked.
“I know. The spinach gets in your teeth, right?” I asked, turning to look at him, finding him shaking his head at me.
“Nah, baby. Figure you must not have a mirror around this place if you don’t think you’re gorgeous too,” he said.
And I swear… butterflies.
I was pretty sure I went my whole adult life never getting butterflies. Unless we were counting ones caused by fictional men in spicy books. I was starting to think they were a made-up phenomena.
Yet there was no mistaking the fluttering in my chest at his words.
“So, what’s she like?” he asked as I just stood there dumbly, watching him with two empty mugs in my hands.
“Wren?” I asked, snapping out of it. “Wren is amazing. She’s sweet and kind and just… good. On the quiet side, though. And inclined to doubt herself. I worry I didn’t do a good enough job with her to boost her self-esteem.”
“How would that be your responsibility?” he asked as I handed him a mug, then turned to get the cream and sugar.
“When Wren was just shy of thirteen, our parents were driving back from a dinner party at a friends’ house on Long Island. Their brakes gave out, and they… they didn’t make it,” I said, still feeling the stabbing of shock and grief, even all these years later.
“Sorry,” Salvatore said, shaking his head. “That sucks.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It was hard. Harder on Wren, though. She had to pick up and leave, move in with me in my tiny apartment, deal with me as I tried to figure out how to not only take care of myself, but her too.”
“Sounds like she turned out alright. So you must have figured it all out,” he said, shrugging.
“Do you have any siblings?”
“Nah. Got a big family, but no siblings.”
“Your parents…” I started, knowing it was a touchy subject, and since he was a fair bit older than me, I figured there was a higher chance they were no longer with us.
“Passed while I was inside.”
“Inside of what?” I asked because, clearly, this whole criminal lifestyle thing was new to me.
“Inside of the prison walls,” he said, lips twitching.
“The… oh!Oh,” I added. “Wow. Ah… were you… you know… there long?”
“Fifteen,” he said.
“Months?”
“Years.”
“Fifteen years?” The words choked out of me.
Fifteen years.
That was a long time to be away from your life, from your loved ones. I couldn’t imagine.
“Yeah, it felt every bit as long as your face says you’re thinking.”
“Have you been out long?”
“A few years.”
“Wow. Was it weird? You know… to be free again?”
