“You said you could find Frankie?”
“I can definitely try. You want me to?”
“My parents died without ever knowing if she was okay … if it’s this easy, I think I’d like to know.”
“It isn’t always easy—or fast—but I’ll do everything I can to find her.” Rossi places a hand over her heart, her blue eyes shimmering in the afternoon sun that bakes through her office window, warming her skin. The faint scent of vanilla and peonies lingers between us, soft and sweet. Strong yet delicate.
Like her.
“I want to take you out tomorrow night,” I say.
Toying with the diamond heart pendant at her neck she examines me. “Out? Like … on a date?”
“Yes. Like on a date.”
Her brows knit.
“You said you haven’t been on one in years,” I say.
“Yeah, but it’s not like I’m missing out on much …”
“Don’t you ever go stir crazy? Sitting in this house seven nights a week?”
“I’m sorry my life seems dull to you, but—”
“—that’s not what I’m saying.” I cup her face and drag my thumb along her bottom lip until it turns from a frown into a sly smile. “You’re a mother, not a martyr. It’s okay to do things that are solely for you. And you need balance or you’re going to burn out. Believe me, I know.”
She exhales, gaze focused on mine.
“I’ll see if Carina can watch the baby tomorrow night—she owes me for stealing my bed last weekend.” Sliding my hands to her hips, I pull Rossi closer, breathing her into the deepest parts of me because I can’t fucking get enough. “I’ve got a friend in downtown Chicago who owns this Italian place. He’s got a backdoor entrance and a private dining room we can use.”
“What are we doing?” Her words are slow and laced in reluctance, but her body remains melted against me.
“I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m enjoying myself,” I say. “Maybe you should join me?”
“I’m not worried about enjoying myself, Fabian. I’m worried about the aftermath of enjoying myself.”
Slinking away, she places a careful distance between us, perching behind her desk.
“By the way, my neighbor is coming over for dinner tomorrow night,” she changes the subject. “It’s our Wednesday tradition. Just wanted to give you a heads’ up in case you didn’t want to be here …”
“Your next door neighbor? The one who’s deeply and madly in love with you?”
She laughs through her nose. “Yes. He’s a good friend of mine, and I know he’d love to meet you, but I completely understand if you—”
“—I’m in,” I say.
Because someone’s got to make sure this neighbor knows his place.
Chapter 19
Rossi
* * *
“I’ve been trying to get Rossi and Lucia to come out to my parents’ farm in Wisconsin with me,” Dan says over dinner Wednesday night.
Fabian stabs a forkful of field greens, watching Dan like a hawk as he teases Lucia with a toy lamb.
“You want to see the real thing, don’t you, Lucia?” Dan asks.
“At this age, would she even know the difference between a real one and a stuffed one?” Fabian breaks his silence.
“Only one way to find out,” Dan answers Fabian, but looks at me.
He’s been doing that all night, avoiding Fabian’s watchful gaze, directing his comments my way. It’s not like Dan to be so cold. I spent all day talking him up to Fabian, telling him how much he’d love him. Now he’s made a liar out of me.
“One of these days we’ll make our way up there.” I reach for my wine and shoot Dan a calming smile. A second later, Fabian’s fingertips brush against the top of my knee under the table. “You like your salad?”
“So, Dan, what do you do again?” Fabian ignores my question.
“Accountant for a Fortune 500 Company,” Dan answers, sitting straighter. “Not nearly as exciting as your job though. I’d much rather be jet setting around the world than working in a stuffy office all day. Unfortunately, my strength lies up here instead of here.” Dan points to his head before squeezing his average-sized biceps.
Shots fired.
“Dan.” I clear my throat and shoot him a look. “Tell Fabian about your family’s farm.”
We need to keep this neutral.
Rising from the table, I grab the lasagna from the oven while Dan tells Fabian about the homestead that’s been in his family for generations. I’m sure it bores Fabian to death to hear about how they raise sheep and alternate beans and corn every planting season, but I pray it neutralizes the energy between them, if only for a few minutes.
“This is extremely hot …” I plate their food and top off their wine before taking the seat next to Fabian and straightening the napkin in my lap.
“So how did the two of you meet again?” Dan points his fork across the table, waving it side to side. “Rossi never really went into detail.”