XOXO (The Calvettis of New York 3)

His gaze flits over my face. “My father is teaching you?”

I’ve never considered my friendship with Louis Calvetti as crossing a boundary until now. Did I overstep when I asked him to teach me sign language? I never gave any thought to whether that would upset my boss or not.

I straighten my shoulders. “Yes. He brought me lunch one day when you were in Italy, and I wanted to thank him using sign language. I wrote a note asking him to show me, and he did.”

His gaze darts to the windows of the restaurant and beyond that to where his parents are still seated at the table with Marti.

“He’d come back a few times a week and spend my lunch break with me,” I go on in a rush, “he didn’t always bring the food. Sometimes I got him two of the hotdogs he likes from the food cart around the corner from the office. His favorite is the cheeseburgers at a deli called Crispy Biscuit. He’s always happiest when I have one waiting for him with chili fries.”

Mr. Calvetti’s brow furrows. “This went on the entire time I was in Italy?”

“Yes,” I answer honestly, taking it a step further. “I hope it starts again now that he’s back from his trip.”

Since he’s silently contemplating what I’m saying, I continue my confession. “Your mom invited me for dinner twice. I went. Their home is beautiful.”

Having dinner with his parents was a treat that I always looked forward to.

“My mother invited you for dinner?” he asks quietly. “You’ve been to their apartment?”

I spot the white sedan that is picking me up approaching. “I have, sir. It was lovely.”

He glances over his shoulder to where I’m looking. “Is that your Uber?”

“Yes,” I say, moving closer to the curb. “Thank you for dinner and for everything you did tonight.”

He steps onto the street to open the back passenger door of the car for me. When he turns to look at me, I see a soft smile on his lips. “You’re very welcome, Arietta.”

Feeling relieved that I didn’t screw everything up by spending time with his parents, I return the smile with one of my own.

He reaches out his hand to help me get into the car. I take it as I step off the curb. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Calvetti.”

His hand closes around mine. With a brush of his thumb against my palm, he leans close to me. It’s so close that I can feel his breath rush over my cheek. “It’s Dominick. Call me Dominick, Arietta.”

I glance into his eyes as I repeat his name back to him. “Dominick.”

“Just like that.” He smiles. “I enjoyed this evening.”

“Me too,” I whisper as I slide onto the seat of the car. When he shuts the door, I suck in a deep breath. “Me too, Dominick.”

***

“Back up.” Sinclair stares at me. “Are you saying The Dick has a heart?”

I laugh.

She curls her fingers on both hands together to form the shape of a heart. “Does it beat inside that sexy, broad chest?”

I move around her to drop my cardigan and purse on the couch. “I’m saying he may not be the biggest dick around.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “He may very well have the biggest dick around. You don’t know. I saw the bulge in his pants when he was here the other day.”

She bounces to her tiptoes and cups her hands around her mouth. “Cock-a-doodle-do-me, the man is packing something impressive in his boxers.”

“You should have seen him tonight.” I fan a hand in front of my face. “He was wearing a black sweater and gray pants. His hair was mussed. It was like he took a shower and didn’t bother with it after that. He looked like he stepped out of the pages of a magazine.”

“You left out the part about how the pants fit perfectly, accentuating what’s inside of them.”

Laughing, I settle down next to Dudley. He crawls into my lap. “Seeing him with his family was great, but it’s when he told me to call him Dominick that I saw him differently.”

“Wait. What?” Sinclair falls into a chair across from me. “You’ve been talking to me since you left the restaurant. Why is this the first time I’m hearing that he asked you to call him Dominick?”

Running a hand over Dudley’s head, I sigh. “That’s because you spent the first ten minutes of our phone conversation ranting about Lowell.”

She did. I called her as soon as my Uber rounded the corner, headed away from Calvetti’s. Sinclair wanted to know how it was going with Lowell. I filled her in. She then proceeded to call him every name in the book and a few she just thought up.

By the time I was in the elevator on my way up to our apartment, she finally let me get a word in about Mr. Calvetti. That’s when I explained that we spent time with his parents, and I got to see another side of him.