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“Our wedding!”
I turn her face toward mine, eyes exhausted, but spirits high. God. This woman is all mine. She will either marry me, or I’ll be showing up to her wedding with more than a handgun. I grab her by her waist, pulling her body onto mine. Her hands run through my hair as her eyes look deep into mine.
“You look tired. Did I work you too hard?”
She places a soft kiss on my lips with a small laugh. “I was up late planning our day, which I would love your help with.” Her eyes squint. “What are your plans today?”
I don’t care about those plans. If I could forget about all the things I need to manage just to spend all day in her arms, I would. I have never been one to imagine a future with someone, but that changed the moment I looked at the woman in front of me.
People always leave, but she won’t. Not if I have a say in it.
Thankfully, I do.
“I put together a family dinner for you,” I say with a half-smile.
“At my papa’s?”
I nod as I sit up on the bed, her body still wrapped around mine.
“Oh, I’m so excited! Is everyone going to be there?” Her arms drift down my back. It’s taking all of me not to fuck her here and now, but I do need to get some things done today.
“I think so,” I continue. “They’d better be.”
My fingers run against the side of her face, her skin feeling soft as silk, hair all tangled up from sleeping but still smooth.
“I want to pack up some more of my things. All my paint, my dresses, my DVDs, my—”
I shut her up with a kiss because if I don’t, she’ll ramble on for years about the most stupid shit.
I move her body off mine. “Go get ready then,” I tell her as I do the same.
* * *
I pull the car up the long driveway, parking it right in front of the entrance. The weather is beginning to get colder. I take off my suit jacket and place it over Nina. “Go, quick,” I mutter as I watch her slip out of the car, running into her old home.
I drive the car to the side of the house where the garage is. I exit, slamming the door behind me when I see Max talking with Marco. The man I assume was supposed to have Nina. Sometimes I cannot stand Nina’s dad. He is always working against me, but I always have the last say.
“Genovese,” Marco says, sticking his ground.
“Max, what’s going on?”
“Nothing, I was just inviting Marco to the dinner you planned.”
Max crosses his arms, his clothes looking dirty. I never knew he was a car person until now. There are stains on his shirt as if he has been working on the piece of junk next to me.
“Year?” I ask, popping the hood.
“1994.”
I nod, patting Max on the back. The smell of oil and tar fills the garage.
I walk toward the door that leads into the house but turn my head when I hear Marco clear his throat.
“Congratulations, Giovanni. She’s a great person.”
“Thank you. She is.” I smile genuinely because he is telling the truth. I can’t even get mad at him for thinking it.
35NINA
