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“Did Lidia know about the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash I use at home too?” He had all of them in his shower.
He ran a comb through his hair. “I like the smell of it.”
“You do?”
“Reminds me of Greece.”
“Ah.” I found a nice hairbrush Lidia had bought for me and used it to comb through the tangles in my hair. “Aphrodite. It’s all starting to make sense.”
He didn’t comment on that, just told me he’d meet me in the kitchen. Yeah. He was totally rethinking this thing between us.
“Aphrodite?”
I turned with the blow dryer box in my hands. “Yeah?”
“That ring on your finger—it’s not there just for decoration. It means something to me. And when something means something to me, I take it fucking seriously. There is no slipping through the cracks with me. I’ll catch you every time.”
The ending part of his statement caught me off guard. He either meant he’d catch me if I tried to run—every time—or he’d catch me before I fell—every time. Or maybe he meant it either way, depending on my thoughts.
“Mmhmm.” I turned from him and finished getting ready for bed on autopilot. I tried not to make it a habit of overthinking my life, and I had to focus hard on not thinking about Big and where we were headed.
I’d met my quota of placing this entire situation underneath a microscope, and maybe after a snack, sleep was what I needed. Because even though he’d said I was in this situation because I owed him, it didn’t feel that way.
It felt like I’d done something for him. What? I had no fucking clue.
Lidia didn’t seem to buy me any pajamas, so I slipped on the T-shirt Big had left on the bathroom counter. It fell to my thighs and was as soft as skin. It even smelled like him. I couldn’t place the exact scent, but I loved it. It wasn’t overdone, but it was there.
I padded barefoot to the kitchen where Big was plating up food. I stood behind him and sniffed over his shoulder. It was some kind of pasta dish with oozing cheese in the middle. “That smells like heaven. I can’t remember when I last ate.”
“Lidia takes care of everything for me. I personally brought her and her husband here from Italy. He’s the head chef in our restaurant. Not many people can cook like they can—authentically—and I trust them. Especially her. That’s why she’s allowed in my personal space. She keeps the place stocked, and she’ll be waiting to hear from you—everything you want and need. If you need her, just dial 11 on any of the phones. She’ll give you her personal cell to use when you’re outside of the grounds. She’s available from 5 am to 5 pm, but she’s so good, I rarely need to call her.”
Big set the plates on the table, along with everything we needed. He held out my seat for me and I took it, digging right in. The food was so good, and I said so.
“What is this called?”
“Orecchiette with burrata.”
“I taste lemon.”
“It’s in there.”
“Lidia would give Vinny a run for his money. All his recipes were passed down. He sometimes gets in the kitchen himself and does a special for the club, but mostly he serves hamburgers and fries, things like that.”
Big only nodded in acknowledgment, taking a sip of his water. He’d poured me a glass of wine. It went perfectly with the light sauce of the dish.
We were quiet as we ate, until Big pushed his empty plate and glass to the side.
“Contained feelings bottle up violence, Leonora. Speak what’s on your mind—always.”
“I don’t have a problem with that. Usually.” I grinned, but this topic was serious, and it made me anxious. His response to what I was about to say could change the entire course of things—for better or for worse. “But here goes. I have two brothers who depend on me. I’m not their mother or their father, but I’m the only parental figure in their lives. What I did—steal from you—I’d do again, even if it meant losing my hand, because I care about them that much. I refuse to be separated from them, and I also refuse to allow the wrong people in their lives. I’m not the best at this—raising them.” I thought carefully about my next words before I shared them.
“Angelo, he’s angrier at his mom and our dad than Phoenix is, though he says he’s not. I’m not sure if I’m reaching him, or failing him, but the way I see it…I’m there. I’ll always be there for them. And I hope that’s enough. But…this, between us, came unexpectedly, like the issue with Jerry Rispoli. I had no idea Angelo knew what he was delivering. Jerry Rispoli might not have told him, but he knew. My brothers are smart kids.
“Anyway. My point is…I have people who rely on me. Even if you make me suffer, I refuse to allow what I’ve done to touch them. I just want what’s best for them. They’ve had a hard life already.” I picked up the glass and drained the rest of the wine.
I hated that I was so vulnerable, especially since it had to do with two young lives, not just mine. I remembered what the article said, too, about his parents’ relationship being violent. It was the same for my brothers’ mom and our dad.
My mom was too far gone on drugs to really fight with him, but our dad was arrested more than once for domestic abuse. Judging by what Big had said—contained feelings bottle up violence—I hoped that was a cycle he refused to repeat.
