“That’s the spirit.”
As we pull into Bash’s driveway, I grunt. “I’m going home to take a nap. What time do I need to be back by?”
“Six.”
“I’ll be here.”
Chapter Three
Isabella
“Is it all set up?” Mia whispers to me in the hall outside the kitchen.
“It is. Matt helped me print everything. I had Nonna help me put it together. It will be served as dessert.”
Mia gives me a shaky smile. She has been anxious all afternoon. She has texted me no less than fifty times telling me she doesn’t think this is a good idea.
“Breathe, Mia. It’s okay. He will be happy. And if he isn’t? I’ll make sure he won’t have any more children in the future.” I give her my award-winning smile, making her laugh.
“Jesus, Iz. Stop threatening his manhood. I kinda love what he does with it.”
“Obviously, Mia Pia,” Sofia says as she enters the room. “Otherwise, I don’t think you would be in this position.”
Mia blushes as Bash and Lo enter the room.
“What’s going on in here?” Bash asks as he steps behind Sofia and wraps his arms around her.
Lo does the same to Mia before he speaks. “Why is my girl blushing? Did you tell them about the thing with the vibrator we did last night?”
Mia’s eyes widen as her blush goes from her cheeks to her entire face.
“You were sick, Mia!” Sofia yells at the same time as I say, “Fuck. I do not need to know about your kinks.”
Mia scolds him. “I didn’t tell them anything, but now they know. Thanks, asshole.”
“You love me.” He leans down and kisses her lips, and she melts into him.
“I’m going to make sure the table is set.” I don’t wait for a response. I go through the kitchen and walk into the dining room and go around straightening the already straight plates. Nonna Rosa always sets the table, but I needed a minute away.
I’m happy for Mia and Lo, but thinking about her pregnancy also brings back painful memories.
“Oh, hey.”
His voice causes me to freeze. I turn around slowly and face him.
Giovanni.
Whenever I see him, I cannot stop my heart from beating a little bit faster.
“Hey,” I respond curtly.
The painful memories of the past are still mingled with the present. I can’t help the anger that filters in.
“Sorry, I thought dinner was at six. Was I wrong?” he mumbles, almost as if he doesn’t want to be in the room with me right now.
I can't deny that it hurts, but it’s for the best.
“They’re by the kitchen. I’m just making sure the dining room is ready.” I turn back and look at the perfectly set table. There’s nothing for me to do, but I can’t escape now without looking stupid.
