“Come,” I say, pulling her toward the kitchen. “Let me make you that latte. Mia Madre always says a warm beverage can calm the nerves.”
She slides onto a barstool and watches me as I make her drink, taking it upon myself to assume she’d want the same thing as last time. When I hand her the mug, her fingers wrap around the base as she brings it to her lips.
My eyes trail the movement. I shouldn’t want her this badly, but the erratic pumping in my chest beats as though it has something to say.
Thump, thump.
You’re screwed.
Thump, thump.
“Are you upset?” she asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
I can feel my eyebrows pulled together and realize I must look as though I’ve been scowling at her.
Shaking my head, I move around the island, taking the seat next to her. “No, piccola ladra. I am not upset. Why would you think that?”
Vinnie shrugs and brings the mugs to her lips again. After a small sip, she says, “This is twice now I’ve pulled you into my mess.”
“I’m not sure how you figure. It was I who ran into you on the sidewalk last week.”
A small smile ghosts her lips. “Yeah, you’re right. You created that mess on your own.”
It’s impossible not to return the grin. “Sì. How is the drink?”
“Perfect.” Her tongue peeks from between her lips to wet them, and once again my eyes catch on the movement. Not even trying to hide it, I openly stare, and when I meet her gaze again, I’m surprised to find her skin lightly flushed, and a curious look in her eye.
The moment severs when my phone begins to ring in my pocket. Pulling it out, Enzo’s name flashes across the screen.
Silencing the call, I place my phone down on the marble, but no sooner does it ring again. I swipe to answer and bring it to my ear. “Che cosa?”What?
“That’s no way to greet your cousin. We have a situation.”
“Che cosa?” I repeat.
“Meet me at the clinic—it's an emergency. “
Fear ricochets through me, wondering what kind of emergency could have happened in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. “La famigilia?”
“Everyone’s fine. Just meet me,now.” Lorenzo ends the call, and I’m left with silence and a mild panic.
Scrubbing my palm down my face, I stand from the barstool and address the woman sitting next to me. “I have to go,” I tell her, my stomach gnawing at me as I do.
I’m not ready for her to leave, and by the emotion that flashes past her eyes, I’m not sure she is either.
It’s a bad idea, but the words flow from me before I can stop to consider what I’m offering. “Stay. I shouldn’t be gone long. My television has every streaming service, the refrigerator is stocked, and I have an endless supply of espresso. Relax and ease your mind.” Stepping forward, I reach my hand out, letting it hover between us before pulling it back. I have no reason to touch her. “No one will find you here, Vincenza. You’re safe.”
“Okay,” she whispers, nodding as she glances behind me into the living room. “Thank you.”
There’s nothing left for me to say, so I simply walk away, stopping to grab my wallet and keys from the entryway, shoving them into my pocket.
Then I’m out the door, forgoing the elevator and racing down the stairs to see what kind ofemergencymy cousin has in store for me.
I make it down to my clinic in record time, finding Enzo and a man I’ve met once waiting by the door. The man has a bloody rag pressed against his arm, and my cousin looks pissed as he stands beside him.
“Took you long enough,” he gripes, and I glare at him.
“It was hardly ten minutes.”
