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She hugs me next, squeezing my cheeks. “You look skinny, Rose. Are you not eating enough in the city?”
“Nah, I’m fine, Janet, thanks.” I pull free of her embrace and motion at Dante who’s still at the other end of my arm. “Um, Dad, Janet, this is my friend, Dante.”
Myfriendslants a glare in my direction the moment the word is out. What the hell was I supposed to call him? My bodyguard? My savior? My roommate? My fuck-buddy?My everything. The traitorous thought surges to the tip of my tongue.
He holds his hand out, dipping his head. “Dante Valentino.”
“Gerry Holloway.” Dad gives him a firm handshake.
“My, my, are you handsome!” Janet’s hungry gaze rakes over him.
Oh, gross.
Dante offers a smug smile. “Why thank you, but you are the true beauty here.” He reaches for her hand and drops a kiss to the top. Where was Dante hiding this schmoozing mafia gentleman? I’d never seen this suave, sophisticated side of him before. This version reminds me of Luca.
“Well, come in, come in. It’s freezing outside.” Janet waves us in, and Dad follows a few steps behind me.
“I’m really glad you came, sweetie. We really missed you at Christmas. It just wasn’t the same without you and Robbie.”
I give him a half-hearted smile over my shoulder. “Yeah, sorry, things just got crazy with the new job.”
Dante shoots me a sidelong glance.Great, busted lying to the fam. There’s no way I’m explaining the attempted rape, my stalker, or anything about my burnt down apartment. Dad would insist I stay out here with them, and I’d rather die than endure that torture.
Janet leads us into the living room, all my mom’s personal touches long gone. Being here without her still seems wrong. Even after all these years. It’s like Dad wiped away every memory of her the day she took her own life, the day she made the active decision to leave us. That’s what a broken heart will do to someone.
Only a few months after I told her the truth about Uncle John.
Sometimes the guilt of keeping the truth from Dad is suffocating. He blames her for taking the easy way out, but he has no idea why she did it. I do.
Dante’s arm curls around my shoulder, and a shudder surges up my spine. “You’re like ice, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”
I offer him that fake smile I thought I’d perfected, but not with Dante, he can always see through the bullshit. Probably because he is so familiar with it. “It’s just hard being here sometimes.”
He nods as I tick my head at the pictures of Dad and Janet on the walls. Their wedding day, vacations at the Jersey Shore, family trips to Florida with Robbie and his smiling wife and kids, and of course, tons with Janet’s kids. I made one fucking picture. Not that I care. I purposely avoid family time as much as possible.
“Sit, sit.” Janet motions at the new living room set. It’s a gaudy floral print that has my eyes burning from the clash of blinding colors. I plop down onto the couch so at least with my ass on it, I don’t have to look at the ugly thing for a moment longer. Dante folds down beside me, bringing our entwined hands into his lap.
Again, I’d forgotten he was still holding my hand. I should’ve realized because it’s the only part of my body not currently iced over.
“Can I get you two something to drink? A glass of wine, some beer, Dante?” Janet’s appreciative gaze rakes overmyhot Italian.
A harsh line slashes across his lips. “No, I don’t drink, thank you.”
His words strike a chord, and I want to smack myself for not realizing it sooner. He often speaks of his addiction, but a part of me never quite absorbed the full meaning. And it’s true, in the months that I’d known the fiery mob boss, I’d never seen him drink a drop of alcohol.
“Two waters would be great, Janet,” I answer.
“Really, Rose? No wine for you?” Her brow arches like it’s the strangest thing in the world, and I’m a raging alcoholic. On second thought, I guess I do drink a lot when I’m visiting. Only way to numb the pain.
“Just water, thanks.”
Dad’s gaze flits to Dante, and a faint smile curls his lips. “I don’t know this guy, but I like him already.”
“Dad,” I groan.
“What? Can’t I call it like I see it?” He folds down onto the easy chair beside us. It’s the only relic left over from Mom’s days. “I may not see Rosie much anymore, but I know my daughter, and she seems happy.”
“We’re just good friends,” I hiss.
