Tommy frowns. “No, but we’re working on it. I promise.”
I nod and force a thin smile. “I know you are, and we both really appreciate it.” I look at Mom, who nods as well.
“Food ready?” Tommy asks in a welcome redirection. “It smells delicious.”
Mom and I jump into action, explaining the options. Sante doesn’t join us for dinner. That leaves the three of us at the kitchen bar, eating as much as we can while trying to distract ourselves from the herd of elephants in the room. In an unexpected twist of luck, Mom excuses herself for the night as soon as we finish eating. Maybe she’s feeling as overwhelmed with life as I am. Whatever the reason, the reprieve from an inquisition is a relief.
Tommy and I put the extra food away and load the dishes in the dishwasher. Mom and I cleaned as we cooked, so the kitchen isn’t in bad shape. I’m glad because a full stomach combined with a day of worry is quickly drawing on exhaustion.
“Come have a look at what I brought over,” Tommy says, taking my hand to lead me back to the bedroom. “I’m sure I probably missed a few things and may have brought stuff that needs to go back, but it’s a start.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.” I look at the small pile of boxes and am struck by just how little I own. We never had enough room to have much stuff. “What about the boxes on Sante’s cart?”
“That was all art stuff. I had him put it in the spare room. I figured we could convert it to a studio.”
“You’d really do that? Let me have a whole room for my art supplies?” I’m not sure where I thought they’d go. With his propensity for tidiness, it wouldn’t have surprised me if he preferred to rent me a space outside the apartment rather than bring that sort of chaos into his home.
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he chuffs.
“I’m sorry, it’s just really generous and caught me off guard.”
His dark eyes warm to a sultry mocha as he loops a finger into my jean shorts and pulls me closer. “Nothing generous about it. I want my wife here where I can see her.” His hand cups the back of my head, fingers threaded through my hair as he angles my head to the side. “Where I can touch her,” he whispers by my ear before grazing his teeth over my lobe. “Taste her.”
A battalion of goose bumps stands in formation down my arms. “Oh,” I breathe, my brain short-circuiting.
What were we talking about?
“Let’s get you unpacked.” Tommy gives my backside a pat, then drops to his knees to open the closest box.
“We don’t have to do it now,” I tell him. Between the exhaustion from before and my newly frazzled brain cells, the last thing I want to do is unpack. “It can wait.”
“No, it can’t,” he says firmly.
“There’s no rush, Tommy. I’m not going anywhere.”
“It’s not about rushing,” he says, irritation seeping into his voice. “It’s about needing my bedroom to be a certain way before I can go to bed. I can’t go to sleep knowing there’s a pile of boxes in here.” He’s talking while emptying the box, not looking at me. He’s obviously agitated, but I get the sense he’s also embarrassed or worried about my reaction.
“Okay,” I offer gently. “It’s probably best to get it done now rather than put it off for later.” I kneel beside him and start on the next box. After a minute, I pause when I realize he’s still staring at me. “What?”
“I knew you were perfect.”
Heat warms my cheeks. “I’m far from perfect, Tommy.”
“You’re perfect for me, little thief, and that’s all the perfect that matters.” He returns to his task as if he didn’t just say the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.
I tuck the words away in my memory bank like I would a cherished ticket stub into a keepsake box. Even his nickname for me, which isn’t all that applicable, but I sort of love it anyway. That’s how I feel about Tommy in general. He has a way of endearing himself without even trying. His methods are unconventional and unintentional, and I think that’s precisely why they’re so effective. It’s impossible not to fall for a man who’s so transparently himself while being unerringly devoted to the people around him.
My wandering thoughts are a revelation I didn’t see coming.
I’m falling for Tommaso Donati.
Piece by piece, he’s unveiled himself to be a man of character and commitment. A man with a decidedly dry sense of humor yet a passion for life. He’s seductive and thoughtful and protective and honest to a fault. He’s a criminal and a killer. My savior and damnation.
Tommy is too complex to label except for perhaps with one word. A word as simple as it is monumental.
Mine.
Tommy ismine.
