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The words are an exaggeration since Carlo’s only known me for a few days, but it still nice to hear. I shoot him a small smile and he smiles back tenderly. The sight of it has my heart flipping, so I reach for some water to distract myself from him. My parents are staring at us, their gazes curious. Well, mostly my dad. As for my mom, she has really settled into the idea of this relationship.
“We are more than proud of Astoria’s accomplishments,” she says. “I must admit, her father and I used to be so worried. For the longest time, she only cared about her work. Imagine our surprise when she told us she was seeing someone. But the two of you look wonderful together. I’m glad you found each other.”
And there it is. I feel something like a fist tightening around my chest. Guilt. In the long run, this is a good idea—if I wasn’t doing this with Carlo, my parents would have kept pushing for me to get engaged to Dante Marino. But that doesn’t mean I like lying to them. Mom seems genuinely happy and I hate that it’s all fake.
The conversation shifts to other things—the story of how we met, how Carlo asked me out. He’s quite adept at lying, embellishing the stories at the right moments and even sneaking in some jokes to make my mother laugh. Eventually, even my dad starts to relax. When we’re done with dinner, we both offer to do the dishes but my mom insists we leave it for the staff so we can enjoy our night together. We had already gladly made our way into the kitchen when my other called us over.
It doesn’t take long before we’re joining my parents in the living room. Carlo moves out of the way for me to sit down, then takes a seat right next to me. I wrap my arms around his neck and smile, the picture of a happy couple.
“Where do you live, Carlo?” my mom questions.
He tells her and she beams, her expression suddenly growing mischievous.
“I have an idea,” she announces. “Tori, darling, you’re always talking about how hard it is to get to the hospital every day since the house is so far away. Why don’t you just move in with Carlo? You’ve been talking about moving out for a while now,” she says but I can’t tell if this is one of her attempts at making a joke or not.
My mouth drops open. Carlo freezes. “Mom,” I say in surprise.
“What?” she asks innocently. “I’m just joking.”
“We’ve only been officially dating for around two weeks. We’re trying to take things slowly, Mother.”
Dad pipes up, “She’s right. Relationships shouldn’t be rushed, mi amor.”
That’s rich coming from a person who wanted me engaged to a man I barely know. I catch the teasing glint in Carlo’s eyes that tells me he’s thinking the exact same thing. I lean closer and whisper in his ear.
“Do you want to get out of here? We could go check out my bedroom,” I suggest, feeling like a teenager with her first boyfriend.
I just need to get us out of here before my parents bring up marriage.
“Sure,” he says easily.
I stand up, momentarily disappointed by the loss of heat from sitting so close to him. We inform my parents I’m going to give Carlo a tour so he can see the upgrades we’ve made since he was a kid. I lead Carlo up the stairs, opening the door to my bedroom. A relieved breath leaves me and then I’m falling onto my bed with a sigh.
“You did well,” he mutters, closing the door and leaning against it.
I sit up. “You think so? I think Dad’s come to accept it.”
“Yeah, there were a lot less glares from him toward the end.”
I laugh before quickly sobering. “Sorry for dragging you into all this. I know it’s a lot.”
“Mutually beneficial, remember?”
I pat the side of my bed, gesturing for him to come sit. He arches an amused eyebrow, shuffling closer and sitting down.
“Nice room,” Carlo says, taking in the surroundings.
“Don’t judge. This has been my room for most of my existence,” I tell him.
“It’s cute.” He smiles when he notices the Hannah Montana poster in the corner.
I groan softly. “My mom was right when she said I was considering moving out of the house. I’ve been considering it since I started my residency. Only problem is, I’m not the biggest fan of change. Every time I look at apartments, I manage to convince myself that they’re not what I want or they’re not good enough.”
“I could help you look if you wanted,” Carlo offers. “Or we could ask my mother for help. The woman’s a shark. Put her in charge of it and she’ll bulldoze through the entire process, even going so far as to picking out all the furniture. She’s the one that helped me with my apartment.”
“You never talk about your family,” I say with a smile.
He shrugs. “I’m a private guy.”
