If one started talking, he was fucking running.
“What is this place?” Haven asked as they climbed out of the car.
He pulled the key from his pocket. “Home for the next twenty-four hours. I rented it.”
She eyed him skeptically. “No wonder you took me to a free gallery. This must’ve cost a fortune.”
He laughed as he grabbed a basket of food from the car and spread a blanket out on the grass. “Come on, let’s eat. I think I can still afford to feed you.”
Haven looked at it with surprise. “A picnic?”
She sat on the blanket, spreading her legs out in front of her. He sat beside her and pulled out the containers of food. Haven grabbed a grape from one and popped it into her mouth as he took the top off of the tall green bottle. Haven watched him warily as he poured the bubbly drink.
She took a glass carefully. “Is this alcohol?”
“I’m afraid not, tesoro. Sparkling grape juice. We’re going sober tonight.”
She looked surprised as she took a sip.
They munched on the food for a while, chatting and laughing. She kicked off her shoes as they talked about trivial things, like TV and weather, before delving into more serious topics. She told him stories from her fucked-up equivalent of a childhood, and in turn, he talked about his mom.
Carmine reached inside the basket and pulled out two Toblerone bars. “Dia said you’re supposed to give chocolate to your sweetheart on Valentine’s Day.”
Haven opened hers and pulled off a triangle. “I thought Saint Valentine’s Day was just a massacre.”
He choked. “How do you know about that?”
“Jeopardy!”
Saint Valentine’s Day massacre, when La Cosa Nostra in Chicago killed seven Irish associates. Carmine was curious if she realized the connection between his family and those things, but he thought better than to bring it up. The last thing he wanted was to have their night tainted by reminders of the world they’d have to go back to.
They watched the sunset quietly. It was one of the things he loved about her—she never felt like she had to fill the silence. He gazed at the sky when something wet splat on the center of his forehead. Closing his eyes instinctively, he reached up and prayed he hadn’t been shit on by a bird. He felt another drop after a second and groaned at the same time Haven laughed. “It’s raining.”
He sighed. Of course the weatherman wouldn’t know what he was talking about.
* * *
They settled onto the cabin porch as the rain steadily fell, a curtain of water cutting them off from the world. Haven watched it quietly, while Carmine strummed his guitar.
“Will you play something for me?” she asked. He started to reply, to tell her he was playing something, when she spoke again. “Something happy, please.”
He sighed. No more Moonlight Sonata. “Uh, sure. I’ll play a song that reminds me of us.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s a real song,” he said. “I mean, like one you hear on the radio or whatever.”
“Will you sing it too?”
He stared at her. He could probably rupture eardrums and break sanities with his voice, but he couldn’t deny her. Not when she looked at him that way. “Okay, but this might not be pretty.”
Her smile grew. Carmine strummed the first few chords of Blue October’s “18th Floor Balcony” before softly singing the lyrics. He could feel her gaze on him, his fingers wavering, but he tried to keep focused so not to mess up. He could tell her all day long that he loved her, but this was cracking his chest open and stepping out of himself fully for her to see.
He glanced at Haven toward the end of the song, his fingers stilling when he saw tears streaming down her cheeks. Reaching over, he brushed some of them away.
She let out a shaky breath as she placed her hand on top of his. “Can we go inside?”
He led her into the cabin for the first time, and she paused right inside the door, surveying the dozens of roses faintly visible in the glow of the room. He scooted around her and turned on some music, scanning through songs when Haven brushed against him. She pulled off her coat and draped it over a chair before grabbing a rose. Bringing it to her nose, she inhaled its sweet scent as she sat on the bed, her bottom lip clamped between her teeth.