The Woman from the Past (Grassi Framily)

“And you never miss a chance to be an asshole,” I said, exhaling hard, feeling some of my anger go with my breath.

“Wouldn’t be me if I did,” August said, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“For reference, don’t talk about Cammie like that,” I said, giving him a hard look.

“Yeah, I get that,” August agreed, nodding. “For the record, if her personality is even half as nice as her looks, you’d be a fucking idiot not to bring her home to meet Ma. I’m going to get lunch. Don’t do any of the fun shit without me.”

With that, he was gone, leaving me with Nino who was nodding at me.

“He’s not wrong.”

“I know I don’t have my head on right. That’s why I asked for your input.”

“Didn’t mean about that. Meant about bringing her home to meet Ma.”

“I barely know the woman.”

“Oh, bullshit,” he said, shaking his head as he turned away. “What’s the most time you’ve spent with a woman? Five or six hours? Never a repeat. But you’ve been meeting with this woman and talking to her every night.”

“About the job.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Look, just saying, just because you’re not usually the kind of guy who gets involved in more than a casual way doesn’t mean you can’t be a guy who does. Think that shit just requires the right woman. Maybe you found her. Seems like it is worth exploring if it’s possible,” he added, already making his way to the door as well.

“Hey, Nino,” I called, waiting for him to turn back.

“Yeah?”

“You ever find the right woman?”

“If I did, I’d have a ring on my finger and a someone that makes me want to go home every night,” he said. And with that, he was gone, leaving me to think on what he’d said.

I guess I’d been right in assuming Nino did want something serious, some foundations to build a life up on.

He just wasn’t going to settle.

He wanted what Luca and Lucky and Matteo had. The right woman.

I was starting to see a bit of a trend, though, with these “right women” and the way the men had met them.

Meaning during extraordinary circumstances. Shit involving guns and suspense and tension and kidnappings.

Maybe that was God having a laugh. Or maybe it was him setting us up with the kind of women who could handle our unconventional lifestyles because they’d been through something crazy and hellish themselves.

After being locked up in an apartment garage for four years and having her diet and days restricted past the point of a common prisoner, after practically witnessing her boyfriend get murdered, yeah, I was pretty sure Cammie wouldn’t raise an eyebrow at knowing her man was away for the weekend to ‘handle some Family business.’

The crazy thing was, I could see her in my life.

I don’t know if I’d always been shortsighted before, or if there genuinely hadn’t been anyone who interested me enough to try to envision them in my house, in my family.

What I did know, was I thought about coming home from a trip to find her in my bed, to fuck away the tension with her, then wake up and have coffee with her. Though, I’d have to invest in some of that caramel syrup shit she seemed to like so much. I could see her across the dining room table, eating copious amounts of pizza, or laughing with my mom and sister at a family gathering.

I mean, I had no idea what was on her mind, though.

For all I knew, I was just a moment of insanity, or the first man she was even allowed to touch in years, so all that pent-up frustration became too much to fight.

Maybe her plan for her future didn’t involve another guy who did illegal shit, who might bring drama or uncertainty into her life.

“Fuck,” I grumbled, exhaling hard as I raked a hand down my face.