“Vincenzo Castelli, I swear to God, if you don’t get me to a restaurant right now to have some lunch, I’m going to lose my freaking mind,” Danielle says in an admonishing tone I’ve only ever heard her use with her children before.
“But, babe, I haven’t even seen her room yet. I was checking out the stove. It’s a Viking, like the ones on the Food Network,” he whines.
“No, let’s go,” she says with finality as she opens the door. “Come on, kids,” she calls the twins, and I hear them run to her. Vinny grunts something back that I can’t make out, to which she replies that she doesn’t care.
“One sec, guys. I need to get my purse,” I hear Liza say. After only a few moments, the door to the closet opens again, and she brings a finger to her lips, warning me not to say anything. She smiles and stretches up to give me a slow, deep, quiet kiss before turning around, closing the door, and walking out, leaving me half naked in her apartment.
That was a really close call. Way too fucking close for comfort.
“CAN YOU PASS ME THAT BRUSH?”she says, looking at me in the mirror as we both ready ourselves for tonight’s event. I’m taking Liza out to a fundraising dinner for my hospital at the New York Public Library, and we’re both getting ready at her apartment. I didn’t think I’d have time to go home, change, and pick her up, so I decided to bring my things with me and go straight from work to her place.
The event is black tie, which should be a fun change after an entire week of spending every night on the couch, me in my sweatpants, Liza in her leggings, eating whatever delivery we felt like that night—and I have loved every fucking second of it. I could spend the rest of my days coming home to her dressed just like that, ordering take-out because we’re too tired to cook, talking about our day while the TV plays reruns of whatever show she’s into that week in the background.
But I know balance is important, and we can’t turn into complete recluses, locking ourselves up in an apartment without talking to anyone else ever again. Plus, I’m dying to see her in the sexy dress she says she bought especially for tonight. She’s a little insecure about her curves, which drives me nuts because I would start a religion just to idolize them if I could, so if she says she looks sexy in this dress, I can’t even begin to imagine how incredibly hot she’ll look.
So yes, I’m really excited. I get to take my girl out on a really nice date tonight, get to show her off to all my work colleagues, get to do something different. It will be the first time we go somewhere with other people, where we’ll be able to walk in together, arm in arm.
I’m nervous, though, too, because I did something a little out there, something that she may consider to fall under the “too much” category, and I’m scared that it will set back all the progress we’ve made this past week—which has pretty much been the most uneventful yet best week of my life. We’ve been practically living together, spending every night since Halloween at her place—she just hasn’t noticed it yet, and I sure as hell am not going to risk losing this by pointing it out.
For the first time in a really long time, I think I might actually be happy. No, IknowI’m happy, and I also know that a huge part of it is because of her, which is why I have to be really careful tonight. I just need to ease into it, even if I’m sure that she’s going to like what I did.
“Sure,” I say and pass her the requested brush. She runs it through her hair before wrapping a strand around a curling iron—which looks more like a dangerous weapon than a styling implement. I’ve already burned my hand on it once tonight and decided to never go near it again.
While maneuvering the curling wand, her robe slips off one shoulder, and I nearly start to drool. She’s so beautiful. I’ll make sure to remember to kiss her when she’s done—it’s just too dangerous now.
“I’m done,” I say as I finish spreading the last of my aftershave on my face. “I’ll wait for you out in the living room, okay?”
“Okay,” she says softly, setting the wand on the counter before stretching up on her toes to kiss me. I try to pull away from her, but kissing Liza is like drowning and never wanting to come up. I pull her closer to me and play with the belt of her robe, wanting to tug it open in one fell swoop. She smiles knowingly against my lips and pushes me away gently with a smirk. “I have to finish getting ready, and we don’t have time for any of that,” she admonishes me.
I groan and take a deep breath. “Fine,” I say like a petulant teenager. “But I’ll remember this moment, Liza Castelli.” I point a menacing finger in her direction.
She laughs, and I reluctantly abandon my post in the bathroom and walk out to the living room to pull the gift I got her out of the overnight bag I packed for tonight. I take it with me to the couch where I turn on Netflix to whatever was playing last—a dating show about a bunch of people on an island “looking for love” (aka a $100,000 cash prize and a sponsorship deal with a gummy bear multivitamin brand)—one of Liza’s guilty pleasures. I don’t pay attention to the sounds of three women arguing over the same guy (who I think is actually hooking up behind all their backs with one of the guys—jeez, what is going on in this show?). Instead, I open and shut the box in my hand, fidgeting with its contents, trying not to get any smudge marks on it.
I hope to God she likes it.
“Oh no, you’re watching this without me?” I turn in my seat to look at her, and my jaw drops. “I haven’t seen this episode!” she complains, walking farther into the living room like she doesn’t look like a complete fox, like the sight of her in the long, black, sparkly dress didn’t just literally make my heart skip a beat. “I thought you hated this show.”
“Liza…” I manage to say, my voice cracking. “You…thatdress…holy shit.”
She flushes. “Yeah? You think?” She runs her hands up and down her thighs, smoothing down the material, but there’s no need—she’s perfect.
I nod vigorously as I stand and walk over to her, taking her hands in mine.
“It’s a little tight, and it makes my butt look—”
“It enhances just how beautiful you already are,” I say, 100% serious. “You look absolutely perfect.” Her hair is up in an intricate hairstyle, braided on the sides and all tied together in a low bun with loose tendrils delicately framing her face. Her dress is black and strapless, tight all throughout her torso and just below where her ass ends, emphasizing her curves—my favorite part of her body. From there, the dress flares out into a mini-train, trailing gracefully behind Liza with every move she makes.
She looks like a movie star stepping onto the red carpet. She should be surrounded by a crowd of screaming fans and paparazzi asking who she’s wearing and screaming at her toLook here! No, look here!as they take a million pictures of her.
I can’t believe my luck to have been able to find a woman like her—the whole fucking package. She’s smart, sexy, and funny, and I’m suddenly so overcome by the depth of my feelings for her that my chest starts to tighten.
She smiles sheepishly at me. “Thank you,” she says, biting her lip.
I want to pull her into my arms, carry her into the bedroom, and have my way with her, but that’s not really an option that’s on the table right now. If tonight weren’t a work event, I’d suggest we skip it altogether and just jump back into bed. I do my best to distract myself from these wayward thoughts by deciding that it suddenly feels like the best time for me to give her the gift I picked out especially for her.
“So,” I say after giving her a long, slow kiss. “I actually got you something.”
“Another gift?” She smiles excitedly. “You shouldn’t have! I already have the pumpkin. And it’s hasn’t even rotted yet!” She points at the pristine white pumpkin sitting in the middle of her coffee table and laughs a little.
