The Woman in the Wrong Place (Grassi Framily)

When I finally made myself get up, one look in the bathroom mirror reminded me just how close I’d been to losing my life the night before.

The bruises had settled into my neck, vivid purple and blue and in the shape of the fingers of the man who wanted so badly to watch the life drain from my eyes.

A chill moved down my spine at the memory until my mind followed through with the series of events, showing me all the good that came after it.

Adrian.

Sofia.

Nino.

And, most of all, of course, Matteo.

The best man I’d ever met.

Someone so caring and selfless that I was almost afraid this was all a dream, that the beating in the parking lot had knocked me into a coma, and this was all some sort of figment of an overactive imagination.

But I went ahead and released that stream of consciousness when I promptly stubbed my toe hard against the side of the bathroom cabinet as I went about my morning routine.

I never before longed quite so much for a pair of pants as I did right that moment.

It was one thing, I guess, to be in a long hoodie when around men who were there to guard us. It felt like a completely other thing to meet the father of the man I was pretty sure I was hopelessly in love with no pants on.

It was a silly thing to fret about, but there seemed to be no helping it, either.

There was a tap at the bathroom door.

“I’m almost done,” I called, thinking it was Matteo trying to hurry me along so I didn’t miss my French toast.

“It’s me,” Sofia said, pushing the door open and moving inside, waving a shopping bag at me. “I figured it was time to update the wardrobe,” she said.

“I could kiss you,” I told her, shooting her a grateful smile as she pulled a bra and panties out, setting them aside, then pulling out a pair of simple black slacks and a burnt orange chunky sweater. “Oh, you’re the best,” I declared, shaking my head. “You know, Massimo said you have like a sixth sense for what everyone needs.”

To that, Sofia snorted.

“Men,” she scoffed. “They think using just a little foresight is somehow a mystical thing,” she added, shaking her head at her cousin. “How’s your throat?”

“Sore,” I admitted. “But it won’t stop me from enjoying the French toast that must have woken me up.”

“It’s a madhouse out there, just so you know.”

“I have a feeling it will often be a madhouse out there,” I said, smiling at the idea.

“Your crazy ass looks excited about that.”

“I am. My house growing up was so quiet and empty and lonely. This is really nice for me. I can see how it might be overwhelming after a lifetime of it, but I’m really enjoying it.”

“It might be frustrating at times, but I have never taken it for granted. Now get dressed. You have a shitton of people to meet.”

And with that ominous warning, Sofia was gone, and I got myself dressed.

Feeling ninety-percent more human with a decent outfit on, I squared my shoulders and made my way down the hallway, following the noise of the Grassi family.

You’d have thought I dropped a bomb as I walked in for how silent everyone went almost at the exact same time.

Faces looked at me, some familiar, many not.

And the intensity of their gazes had me almost wanting to retreat a step.

But then it was Massimo who moved through the crowd, rolling himself forward in the chair he clearly resented as he rammed it into the island as he tried to navigate toward me.

For a moment, I was worried he wasn’t going to walk again before I remembered that he likely just had stitches that the doctor didn’t want him to pull.

“Don’t worry,” I said, giving him a warm smile, “your brother already promised that I will never have to put air in my tires by myself ever again,” I said, watching as confusion, then amusement, played across Massimo’s features.

“Thank you, Josie,” he said, shaking his head. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from that,” he added, gesturing toward my neck.

“It was actually kind of romantic for Matteo to save me from it,” I told him, smiling when he scoffed.

“So what I’m hearing is I did your relationship a favor by passing out and almost dying.”

“Now you’re getting it,” I agreed, hearing a collective laugh move through the room.

And, somehow, I thought I had their approval right at that moment.

“My mom is going to ugly cry while she hugs you so tight that you’re sure you’re going to suffocate,” Massimo warned.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I said, nodding.

“Crazy woman,” he murmured as he rolled away, clearing a path for the woman who’d birthed and raised not only Massimo and Nino, but three other sons and one daughter. She was every bit as emotional as Massimo warned, and I loved every moment of her embrace, of her words in my ear. And, of course, her French toast that she promptly shoved at me as soon as she released me.