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I think it’ll be a while before we can get to that.
Men like Rocco use few words as it is, and I’m not gonna hold my breath waiting to hear those three little words from him.
But I can wait.
Having him wait for me, knowing he actually cares about me?
That’s worth more than words at this stage, and I still have to pinch myself, wondering what the hell it is an older guy like him sees in a younger girl like me anyway.
“Better?” Rocco asks, grinning like he’s had a brainwave while I’ve been gone.
He takes my hand again and walks me to a newly restored section of the balcony at the top of some stairs, opening out onto a deck through newly finished French Windows.
“Like it?” he asks me, shifting his gaze to the view of the valley.
The muddy hill and worksite we’re on seem to disappear as the sun shines out from behind the clouds, lighting up everything green in the world.
I feel like it’s all so perfect because I’m with him.
“It’s beautiful…,” I murmur.
“It sure is,” he agrees. “I mean, you sure are,” he corrects himself.
And I turn to see he’s been watching me the whole time. Hooking his huge hand around my waist, he pulls me closer.
Kissing me hard, he asks me if I’d prefer a modern or an older-style house.
The question catches me off guard, but only because of the level of intensity Rocco uses when asking.
But I play along, and if I’m honest, I have to admit I am in love with the old-style atmosphere.
But, nothing beats a brand new, working modern bathroom like the one I just experienced.
So I confess my choice.
“A little of both,” I tell Rocco thoughtfully. “I love the older stairs, the woodwork…but I love the modern tiles and bath even more.”
I love you, dammit! Why can’t I just tell you?
Rocco’s eyes shine with pleasure as he hears my choices.
Getting to know exactly what I like seems to please him more than anything. It makes me wonder if he’s ever thought only of himself.
He’s not the typical, selfish type that I’d think about whenever I think of a mobster.
But then again, not a part of him matches any of that.
I just can’t see it in him.
“Should we even be staying here, let alone daydreaming about a place like this?” I ask, giving into my old fears and worries.
Rocco doesn’t look hurt, though. In fact, he agrees.
“You’re right, but I just wondered what sort of place you’d like. Some people like small places….”
I assume he’s talking about places like my old apartment.
The place I suddenly realize I can never go back to, even if I wanted to.
