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I suck down more coffee, delaying having to respond. Thankfully he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, continuing to talk.
“You know how I feel about you, Bev. I hope that one day, you can feel the same way.”
The same coffee I just chugged down threatens to rise, nausea roiling in my stomach as I set my half-empty cup down. “I—” I pause, smiling in place of forming a sentence when my mind draws a blank in response. “I enjoy spending time with you, Gavino.”
The response seems to placate him because he smiles, his dark blue eyes shifting from me to sweep around the room. Despite his gaze being off of me, my stomach still feels sour.I shouldn’t have drank all that coffee so quickly.Or perhaps, it’s the conversation in general. My eyes flick back to my book, skimming more than reading, to take my mind off my stomach. Just when I’m at the point of just forgetting about it, Gavino’s voice draws my attention, breaking my concentration.
“Pronto,” he says quietly into his phone, his hand casually falling to my thigh with an apologetic smile.
I want to push his hand away, but I don’t. Instead, my eyes wander back to the page I’ve pretended to read twenty times over.
“What?” His voice rises just a tad, eyes quickly flicking to me as I keep my attention on the page, only watching him from my peripherals. His voice is even lower when he asks, his shoulders slightly tilting away from me, his palm sliding from my thigh, “When was this?”
The only reason I look up at his profile is because of the tone of his voice, the annoyance evident in it. One of his hands rises to run through his short brown hair, his knuckles dropping to rap against his thigh.
“And you didn’t think to tell me this when it was happening?”
I look away from him when he glances my way, dropping my attention back to the book. If I’ve learned anything about growing up in the Mafia, it is that the men don’t like the women getting in their business. Even the nice ones like Gavino. I can’t help but eavesdrop, though, my interest piqued merely because I’ve never seen this side of Gavino. He’d always done a good job to keep his business out of our time together.
He clicks the phone shut, hanging up, and I do my best to act like I was engrossed in my book when he touches my arm. “You haven’t heard from Remy, have you?”
My heart thumps hard in my chest at his question, my breath catching. I quickly recover, shaking my head and flicking my gaze from his face to my book. “No.” Once I feel like I have some semblance of control over the whirlwind of panic crashing against my windpipe, my eyes meet his once more, adding, “We don’t hang in the same circles anymore.”
For a moment, though brief, I almost think he doesn’t believe me. My fingers scrunching in my lap the longer he stares without a word. His smile is like a weight lifted off of my shoulders, but guilt quickly burrows in the place the panic left.
You’re such a liar, Beverly.
“Does it make me an ass to say I’m happy about that?” He chuckles and I fake a returning smile. “Can I tell you a secret?”
I swallow, my throat burning as bile threatens to rise, stomach churning. “Of course, you can tell me anything.”
He leans in close, so close I can feel the heat of his breath fanning my cheek. Everything in me wants to pull away but I don’t, reminding myself that he is who Ishouldhave feelings for.
“I picked out your ring this morning.”
If possible, my stomach sinks even further with his words. He’s smiling, reaching into his pocket as he leans to the side. I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing a smile when he holds a black velvet box in front of me. He opens the box and pulls the diamond ring from its holder, his warm fingers lifting my hand from where they are clenched in my lap. I force myself to go soft under his touch and swallow hard when his eyes meet mine to slip it onto my finger.
It feels heavy.
Like a sack of bricks tied around my neck, ready to sink me to the bottom of the harbor.
I know I have to say something, but I don’t think I can, not without expelling all the coffee I’ve just drank onto the front of his shirt. So instead, I sit there with my mouth gaping like a fish until a breathy, “It’s beautiful,” forces its way past my lips.
And it is beautiful.
And large.
A classic princess cut, easily three carats, and lined with tiny diamonds that wrap around the entire silver band, no one would miss it sparkling on my finger. And part of me thinks maybe that is the point.
“I’m happy you like it,” he finally says, my eyes peeling from the stone on my finger to his face. His face that isveryclose to mine. “You didn’t get a ring last time, I thought you’d like one this time around.”
My heart just about cracks in two at the thought, another wash of nausea rising to the surface. I force a smile past it, hoping my face doesn’t look like the grimace I am feeling. “That was—is thoughtful of you.” I swallow. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you. I wanted it to be as beautiful as you are.”
I feel him shift closer, feel the phantom press of his lips before he even starts to shift forward. I try to stay put, my hands clenching in my lap, the diamonds on the band of my ring cutting sharply into my fingers. It’s just a barely-there press of his lips, but it burns like acid, scalding me as his lips press into mine.
Before I know what I am doing, I’m leaping up from my chair, a hand slapping over my stomach and another over my mouth. Gavino frowns up at me, a question on his lips as I run toward the bathrooms. I barely make it inside before I am gripping the edge of the toilet seat and expelling everything I’ve consumed in the last hour. I choke back bile as I dry heave, my stomach tight as I breathe through my nose and try to get a hold of myself.
