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“It never was just a fling with her, was it?”
I shrugged. “It’s a decade ago, Gino. It’s not like you meet a soulmate at college.”
“Woah, soulmate? That’s a big word.”
“I said it’snota soulmate,” I pointed out.
“Whether you’re for or against a soulmate, it’s still about a soulmate.”
I rolled my eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think she’ll want to see me again, anyway, and when Celine makes up her mind…”
“You’re the one who wants to challenge it.”
I didn’t answer because Gino was right. When Celine fought against something because she was stubborn and didn’t want to be told what to do, I wanted to get up in her face and fight her on it. It was how we did things. We always got stuck with each other. We fought like cats and dogs… and fucked like rabbits, unable to stay away from each other.
Fuck, maybe it was a good thing she wanted nothing to do with me because she was nothing but trouble.
“I think you should go for it,” Gino said.
I blinked at him. We turned the horses toward the river, and the animals waded into the shallow, cool water. The sun beat down on us, and my skin was beaded with sweat.
“Do you?” I finally asked.
“Of course, you’re bored out of your brackets, and you haven’t had a challenge in a while. You need something—or someone—to keep you busy, and if she’s going to do that for you, then you go for that fight.”
I shook my head. My brother knew me better than I knew myself, and he knew how I’d seen Celine from the start. I’d never kept any secrets from him.
“Just don’t get to the point where it’s a long-term thing,” Gino added. “She’s not Italian.”
“I’m aware of that.” The blonde porcelain beauty was as far from Italian as she could get.
“As long as you keep the bloodline pure, you fuck whoever you want to, and if she’s the one who drives away your ennui, then you play the game however you want it.”
I nodded.
“You know, we have to marry good Italian women who can give us children,” Gino said, mimicking my dad.
I laughed. My uncle said that a lot, too.
My family had always married within our nationality. We married Italians only. It was how we kept the Carelli blood strong. Things were different now that Gino and I lived in the States. It wasn’t so easy to find a good Italian woman—our people had always sent for mail-order brides when we were in other countries. That had happened for centuries. It would be our destiny, eventually, too. We would go home and find a wife there.
I just couldn’t envision someone I didn’t know, someone I didn’t love. I couldn’t imagine a life without someone who didn’t challenge me the way Celine did.
I shook off the thought. Gino was right; Celine wasn’t Italian, so she wasn’t the person I was meant to spend my life with. Hell, at this point, she didn’t even want to see me, so I didn’t know if a fling would even fly.
Still, I wanted to see what I could do. I wanted to reach out to Celine and see if I could get in there again because if there was ever a firecracker, it was her.
“You good, bro?” Gino asked.
“Of course,” I said.
Gino nodded, and we rode through the river and out the other side.
“Race you to the post,” Gino said and kicked his horse into a gallop. I did the same, our steeds neck to neck right away. Fuck if I would let my little brother win. I always finished first, and that wasn’t going to change, no matter what it was I attempted.
With Celine, though, that was going to be more of a challenge, but I’d never said no to a good razzle-dazzle.
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