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“Nora, this’ll be you.” He carries her bag to a large, gorgeous brick and wood-beam guest room.
“Yeah, I’m never leaving. Sorry, not sorry.”
He chuckles. “And your sister will be in the room next door.”
Nora arches a brow. “Oh, is that your room?”
“No. My room is upstairs.”
“So, my sisterwon’tbe next door, then.”
Hades cocks a brow, glancing at me. My face flushes twelve shades of red as I groan.
“Yeah, I’mfifteen, not an idiot,” Nora snickers.
“Very good to know, thanks.”
Hades ends up ordering food to be delivered, which arrives just as I begin to move from hungry to hangry. And sweet Jesus does it smell fucking amazing.
“Frankie’s,” he says, his face almost caving in ecstasy as he transfers all the delicious smelling gnocchi, cavatelli, and cacio e pepe from the to-go boxes onto plates for the three of us to share. “FuckingamazingItalian food. Possibly the best food in all of New York, actually.” He turns and winks at me. “Just don’t ever tell my grandmother that.”
We eat on Hades’ garden patio, laughing, listening to music, and drinking wine. Well, Hades and I drink wine. Nora has Perrier. When the music—a vinyl copy of Bob Dylan’s “Oh Mercy” album we’ve been listening to via speakers out to the veranda—runs out, Hades glances at my sister and me.
“Who’s picking next?”
Nora pops out of her chair instantly. “On it.”
I grin as she darts inside to dive into Hades’ huge record collection.
“That’s all you, right?”
I smile as I turn to him. “What?”
“Raising her.”
I nod. “Yeah, pretty much, I guess. Since I was seventeen and she was six.”
“You did a pretty fucking amazing job,” he murmurs. “She’s a great kid.”
A proud blush creeps over my face. “Thanks.”
Then instantly, I cringe as the next song pipes out over the speakers.
Goddammit, Nora.
The devil herself comes skipping back out to the veranda, giggling as Steve Miller Band’s “The Joker” hums out of the speakers.
Hades raises a brow at her grin and my embarrassed groan.
“Something I’m missing?”
Nora snickers. “It’s Elsa’s favorite song.”
He laughs loudly, turning to eye me through my flushed face. “Seriously? Steve Miller Band?”
“Hey it’s inyourrecord collection, ass,” I mutter as he grins at me. “And it was aphase, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, right. She played it for like a year straight when I was maybe nine. ‘Ah-whoo, whoo’!”
