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“But you’re opposed to room service?” He corks a brow.
“Doesn’t have to be anywhere fancy. Hell, I’ll take McDonald’s drive-thru over room service. But I’m hungry, so let’s get the food, then I’ll share my sob story about room service.”
* * *
An hour later,Santino and I have containers from a pit stop that raved of theirhomemadechili. We’re back in our room—moonlight streaks through the vertical blinds. With the balcony door cracked, a slither of the fresh, frigid air enters the heated room.
As I toss him a spork, grabbing my own with a chuckle.
“What?”
I gesture to the plastic spork, and Santino and I are on the same wavelength.
He smiles. “This time last year, could you imagine using one of these, Gina?”
“Not even the faintest idea. About this time last year, I was getting a Brazilian for our family vacation. Damn, I wouldn’t have any brownie points for telling Antonia that we went on vacationandshared gifts for Christmas in my family.”
“She appreciated that arson story.”
“Yup, I was tactical when sharing it. Awe, I miss your niece a little.” I gesture with my index and thumb. “Just a little. Damn, I almost had her on my side too.”
“Toni likes you.”
I give him a pointed glare. “Yeah, right. My next step was Christmas. I put a rush order on her gift and your ma’s gift. Too bad we’re not around. That friggin website kept sayingget it by January.”
“Express mail packages?” Santino asks, forking his food.
“Yeah, why?”
“That was one of the reasons I abducted you. Their gifts came the evening you called me.” He runs a hand along the back of his neck. “That seemed tactical.”
I laugh. “Well, the strategy wasn’t on my part. Those fucking liars! I knew the ‘get it by the new year’ line was a scam. I paid a hefty price for shipping.”
“What did you buy for them?”
“Antonia had asked for a picture of her and your ma to be blown up and painted. I took a screenshot of it, had two made.”
Santino’s about to shovel his first bite into his mouth when he reaches over to kiss me. “I’m going to marry you . . .”
I’m so mesmerized by the look in his eye that I miss the underlying concern on Santino’s face. Finally, taking a bite of my chili, I chuckle then spit out.
“Tsk, Gina. Not to your standards?”
“Ha! Taste it; tell me if I’m exaggerating.”
He takes the tiniest bite.
“Santino, really? You’re like a linebacker in a tutu.”
Santino goes off in Italian, growling how one tiny bean has the sodium capacity of the Atlantic Ocean. Then he’s telling me, “If you ever say another linebacker joke . . .”
“Here,” I hand him my water bottle. “Your mind just went blank. We need to hijack some elderly person’s water pills. You’ll be fine. Once you’re up to par, can we kidnap Piero?”
Santino cocks a brow, guzzling the water and crushing the bottle.
“Well, he’s a very teeny, tiny person.” I gesture, making a circle with my joined hands.
“He and my mom are twins. My Uncle Cecco and the rest of them are intimidating like me. But Piero makes it up for his manners. When he lacks them, he’s vicious.”
