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Elio considered the truth of that statement, surprised to discover it described his actions of late. His family only knew the Elio who lived and breathed hockey day and night, and who’d never had a relationship because he was fully focused and wholly committed to just one thing—his career. As his love of the game began to fade, he found himself struggling to figure out who he was without it…without letting anyone realize.
Watching Gianna put on a brave front felt a bit like looking in the mirror, and he experienced an unexpected connection with the woman.
Elio shook off the heavy feelings. It was a fucking party, and he was getting too bogged down in his shit. He’d always prided himself on his ability to go with the flow. So it was time for that guy to take the wheel. “Red or white?” Elio asked, ready to turn things up a notch and join the quarters game. For that, he needed more beer.
“Red,” Liza said. “I’ll be over there,” she said, pointing to the same game he’d been eyeballing. “Teaching those guys how it’s done.”
Elio shook his head, amused, as he walked to the kitchen, filling his cup from the keg in the corner with one hand, thanks to the damn sling. “Mad skills,” he said, when he saw Keeley watching him.
“Impressive,” she acknowledged with a snort. “Came in to reload the food platters.” Keeley took a tray of bacon-wrapped hot dogs from the oven.
“Hot damn,” he said. “I was hoping there were more of those. What the hell are they and why are they so good?”
Keeley laughed. “Jess shared the recipe with me. I’m not sure who thought wrapping hot dogs in bacon, stabbing them with a toothpick, sprinkling with brown sugar, then baking them was a good idea, but whoever it was is a genius as far as I’m concerned.”
“Amen.” Elio grabbed one of the bite-sized treats off the platter and popped it into his mouth. “Heart attack on a plate. And I’m still going to eat a half dozen more.”
“Need any help?”
Elio turned toward the doorway at the sound of Gianna’s voice as she walked into the kitchen.
Keeley shook her head. “Nope. Got it all well in hand.”
“Oh, hi, Elio. Nice to see you again,” Gianna said with a smile that was nothing but friendly. Liza really had left him off the flirting list.
“Same,” Elio said. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” she replied, giving the standard answer, even though Elio sensed she was anything but. Gianna reached for a glass. “I came for wine. Got waylaid by Joey and his cohost, Miles. He’s a really nice guy. He and Joey seem thick as thieves already.”
“That’s good to hear,” Elio said. “I haven’t had a chance to meet him yet. Need to go introduce myself.”
“I just opened a new bottle of red,” Keeley said as she ripped into a bag of potato chips and filled a bowl.
Elio looked around the kitchen and chuckled at all the food. “I can see Gio’s Italian roots are rubbing off on you, Kee. You’ve got enough food in here for an army.”
“You Morettis are a bunch of vultures,” she joked. “You’d think half the people out there hadn’t eaten in weeks.”
Gianna poured herself a glass of pinot noir. “It’s the holidays. The one time of the year when the word ‘diet’ is deleted from everyone’s vocabulary.”
“Only to return in January with a vengeance,” Keeley said.
“Diet, you say? Can you define that word?” Elio asked, popping another of the hot dogs into his mouth. “I’m not familiar with it.”
Keeley laughed. “You don’t have to be. For one thing, you skate about a gazillion miles a week, and for another, you have the Moretti genes.”
Elio shrugged casually. “We like good food. No crime in that.”
Keeley, who begun stirring meatballs in the Crockpot, pointed the spoon at him. “You’ve been spoiled by your aunt Berta and Nonna.”
“And the other aunts and my mom as well,” Elio agreed. “We Morettis learn from the cradle that food is love.”
“That didn’t hold true in my home,” Gianna said, taking a sip of her wine. “Food was sustenance, nothing more. If we were hungry, we ate, and sadly it was nothing special. Since it was just me and Grandma, we pretty much lived on soup and sandwiches.”
“That sounds terrible,” Elio said, suddenly aware that he knew very little about Gianna’s childhood. Liza was a few years older than Gianna, who’d been friends with Keeley in high school. After Keeley’s parents died, she began hanging out with the Morettis more, dragged along for the ride by her brother Kayden.
But Gianna’s friendship with Liza didn’t really begin until after he had joined the NHL, so apart from the occasional socializing when he was home, they hadn’t spent much time together, and all of that had been amid family or their large group of friends.
She smiled, though it looked forced. “It wasn’t so bad.”
