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When Maceo found out Tony’s lease was coming to an end, he pretty much insisted Tony move in with the family. He wants to keep all his men as close as possible—his way of protecting his brothers. Tony requested the room next door to Ebony—as if the rest of the guys needed any more warning to stay away from her.
“That means you’ll be patching in, brother,” Gauge says pointedly.
Tony nods. “I’m well aware. This is the family I choose.”
Satisfied with his answer, Maceo pecks the top of my head and leaves with Gauge to get whatever information they can from Father Castelli.
Melancholy, I lean back in my chair, my appetite disappearing like my waistline will when I get pregnant. “Lorenzo’s not going to stop. Tomorrow it will be something else to screw with the wedding.” And each day Lorenzo will up the antics ‘till he gets the result he wants…or the person he wants. I shiver.
Tony gently pats my hand from across the table. “He won’t get you, Little Jo. He’d have to come through here with a semi to break our walls.”
I want to believe Tony, but I can’t stop the uneasiness settling in my stomach.
Shit, I’m going to be sick.
I race upstairs to my room with Hades on my heels and barely make it to the toilet before my lunch comes back up. My mom must have run after me because I feel her pull back my braids and rub soothing circles on my back.
When I’m done, I close the lid and flush the toilet, resting my head on the closed lid. Mom hands me my toothbrush. I stand, taking the toothbrush, and scrub the nastiness out of my mouth.
“Perhaps you rest this afternoon? I’m afraid with all the stress with the work projects, wedding fiascos, and this douche Bianchi, you’re wearing yourself thin. You don’t want to get sick before your wedding next week. I’ll call your dad to fill in for you over at the house,” mom suggests.
I’m about to protest, but mom already has her cell out and phoning dad. Hades seems to like the idea of resting and pads off to his bed.
Emotionally exhausted, I make my way to the bed and pull out a floor plan I’ve been working on for a shopkeeper downtown. Punk waltz into my suite and hands me my backpack and laptop from the build site. “Are we crashing in here for the rest of the day?”
“Mom freaked out when I threw up. Now I’m on house arrest,” I answer, powering on my computer.
Punk puts the back of his hand to my forehead. “You sick, sis?”
I shake my head. “Stressed.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe mama bear is right. Let’s Netflix and chill the rest of the afternoon, start the weekend early.”
“My thoughts exactly,” mom says, walking over to Punk with a heaping plate of food and a giant drink.
He grins and takes the offering. “Thanks, mom!” He settles on the bed next to me and turns on Netflix. “Put work away and watch a chick-flick with me. You know I can only indulge my guilty pleasure with you.”
Ain’t that the truth. When Punk confessed his love for rom-com, he made me pinky swear never to tell the guys. Knowing they would harass him, I crossed my heart and promised. It’s kind of our thing now.
“I can do both,” I say, typing away on my 3D design program illustrating the trendy woman’s boutique. I’m currently trying to figure out the best layout to add more than one changing room in the small store.
My mom brings one of the wingbacks into the bedroom and sits next to us with her Kindle. Punk’s ‘mama bear’ comment is pretty spot on. She would always set up shop in mine or Simone’s rooms when we were sick, to keep a better eye on us. “Simone is coming to join us.”
Not five minutes later, Simone comes in with snacks and throws them on the bed, crawling in on the other side of me. I eye the candy, unsure if my stomach can handle it, but it’s candy—I never turn down the sugary garbage. We chew on Twizzlers and decide onSixteen Candlesfor our afternoon entertainment.
“What’s the hype with Jake Ryan? I mean, I guess the dude is good looking, but not gaga good looking,” Punk muses aloud.
“He’s fucking hot,” I say, faking a swoon against the pillows.
“Definitely,” Simone agrees dreamily.
Punk gives an exaggerated eye-roll. “Please. John Bender from Breakfast Club is way more spank worthy.”
Smiling as I work, I look over at my brother. “You’re only saying that because Bender is a bad boy like you.”
“Damn straight,” Punk says, snapping off a KitKat and handing me the other half.
Simone cocks her head at the screen. “Jake Ryan kind of looks like Atlas.” All three of us cock our heads to examine Jake Ryan for Maceo comparison.
