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“You okay, Talia?” I could tell he was using that name on purpose, unlike his accidental slip of the nickname three years ago in Anthony’s condo. And why did I remember that? For some reason, I remembered every freaking interaction regarding this man.
“You named your restaurant Talia’s Tuscan Grille?” He stroked the stubble on his jaw, eyes still sharp on me. “You’re Sicilian, last I checked. And I didn’t think you went by Talia. So, why the name?”
Your mom told you about my place? “Natalia’s Sicilian Grille doesn’t have the same ring to it. And far too many Romanos out there already.”
He wordlessly lifted his chin, and I took that as a cue to start the engine. Check to see if his handiwork beneath the hood had been a success.
“Roger that,” I said, which was the only military jargon I knew. But it produced an unexpected smile from him.
Once behind the wheel, the engine purred, which was the best sound I’d heard all evening.
Ryan closed my door, and I rolled down the window. He propped his forearm at the top of the Jeep. “I’ll follow you home. Going that way anyway.”
“Right.” I nodded. “Glad it was you who pulled over and not some killer.”
“Technically speaking, a killer did save you tonight.” He winked.
“Not the word I’d use to describe you, Ryan Rossi.”
This “nice thing” between us was going to end soon, I could feel it. It was like walking on eggshells and expecting none to crack. One of us would break. One of us would say something to piss off the other.
“While I have you, can I ask you something?” This conversation would do us in, for sure. “Why’d you tell your brother not to marry me?”
Ryan cleared his throat and pushed away from the Jeep.
Yup.
There it was.
A hard, cold stare from the man.
Any second I’d be saying, Hello, broken eggshells.
“If you believe the rumors that I blamed you for ending my career with the Teams, so I wanted some payback, then—”
“I don’t. That’s why I asked you.” Plus, it was our first time alone since the breakup.
His silence, which stretched for too many seconds, was killing me.
And when he broke it, it wasn’t to alleviate my curiosity, it was a simple order, “Move on, Natalia. Anthony’s not worth it.”
Before I could respond and explain I was way over his brother, Ryan had already walked away to return to his truck.
He waited for me to pull back onto the road, and my heart hammered with every passing second on that two-minute ride to my parents’.
Once home, I parked outside the attached garage and unstrapped Chiara from the car seat. Ryan was in his driveway with his back to the truck, eyes on me as if wanting to ensure I made it safely into the house.
I sent him a quiet nod of thanks, so I didn’t wake Chiara, then retreated inside.
“Hey, I’ve been calling your phone. Maria finally heard it ringing in your desk drawer and answered it,” was the first thing Mom said when she greeted me in the foyer, abruptly taking my sleeping niece from my arms.
“Jeep problems. Ryan was on his way to his mom’s, so he, um, helped me out.”
“Rossi?” Mom’s brows popped up, a bit too comically, as she smoothed circles over Chiara’s back to keep her asleep.
“Yeah, Ryan’s surprising his mom.”
“Well, Laura will be excited. How long is he staying?”
