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We lock eyes, all at once. The severity of the moment seems to penetrate for Gina. “Then you’d leave?”
“No, then I’d deal with authorities. That’s inevitable. But all I ever craved was your happiness, for your Christmas, your birthday.” I tug her earlobe through my teeth, then flick my tongue over the place where I applied hurt. “Gina, let me have you at least that long?”
What’s Christmas without the one you love
* * *
50
Gina
My entire life has spiraled out of control. There isn’t a designer label in the general vicinity. Not a single pumpkin spice candle or Starbucks drink. I’m a member of the pumpkin spice cult. Deal with it.
But as I stare deep into Santino Morelli’s eyes, he said exactly what I needed.
He wanted to be there for me for mybirthday. Not Christmas.My birthday.Now, I’m not the type who posts screenshots of their rolled fondant, layered birthday cakes. Nor am I the selfie whore donning a cotton robe at a world-class day spa with a birthday tiara.
I don’t give a flying fuck if I have a single present under the tree for Christmas. That isnotthe reason for the season. But to have the man I’m falling for with me on my birthday means the world to me.
I’min lovewith Santino! I have to tell him, but he’s backing out of the truck doorway. “Wait—”
“Fingers and toes in,” he says, pressing his mouth to mine and then shutting the door. Santino and his uncle’s muffled voices carry through the window. I catch a few phrases like I had earlier. This time, I trust him. Biting my lip, I wait patiently for him to get into the truck.
“Will your mom and Antonia be okay?”
“Yes. Just give me these last few days with you, Gina. Then we can worry about our families.”
I offer a faint nod as he pulls away from the crash site. Piero strolls across the street. Dropping the fishing cap over the top of his head, he adds distance between us.
“Is your uncle . . .”
“He’ll be fine. His driver is down the hill in his car. That was a stolen ride he came up here to check on us in. Good thing, since you can’t drive.”
“Humph, I won’t deny it ei-either,” I manage as a vehicle with the deputy seal coasts by us.
“Next time you feel inclined to give us up with that guilty look, Bella, c’mere. Wrap those lips around my dick.”
“Heh, you kidnapped me, Santino. Once the coast is clear, place your lips on my kitty.”
From my peripheral, I watch as Santino’s tongue dips out. He slithers it around like it’s worth a million confirmations of approval on a social media post. From the corner of my eyes, I stare.Yummm!
“Bad Santa!” I snap when he catches my eye contact.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t been missing this, sweetie . . .”
“I said no sweetie—”
“Pie.”
“Or variation of it, Dirty Santa! Anyway, you’re running out ofsweetnicknames.”
“Another one,” he mutters, jutting his chin.
While Santino holds up two fingers to subtly cover his face, I gape at another cop car.
“You’re bad at this, Bella. You forget those bedroom eyes, those lips. With a pretty face like that, you can rob—.”
“I’m not robbing a bank, Santino,” I groan.
