"He flirts with me all the time," I confess.
"Well, that's good. Go for it." She takes my hands over the table. "Scott wasn't the right man for you. He was sensible and smart, but he didn't make you blush like you just did."
He sure didn't. He never made me feel any of the things I feel with Marcello. Everything with Scott was… nice, organized, and planned. I never felt any of the millions of emotions I feel with Marcello in the span of an hour, from being mad as hell at him for clearly leaving the apartment when I told him to stay in bed, to laughing at his insinuations that should outrage me, to… to… feeling caring and tender and yearning for more. The desire he wakens in me with one look is more than Scott was able to rouse in me after an hour of making out.
"Earth to Violet." Mom brings me back. I flush again.
"Sorry."
"Hmm, that must be some hot guy. Who is he?"
The waiter arrives with our drinks. I wish I had ordered something stronger than sparkling water. I have a feeling I need it.
"May I take your orders?"
Mom takes her glass of wine and orders a salad. We come here often enough to know the menu by heart. I go with the fish, and Mom's eyes spear me. I pretend not to see it. "So, did I tell you that I quit my job?"
"What? No?" She blinks a few times. "Why?" Then her eyes widen. "Oh, because ofhim?"
For a moment, I think she's talking about Marcello—the man I'm crushing on, my new patient and boss. But then I realize she's thinking of Marcello, the mob boss—the one shewantedme to quit over. "I thought they released him. From the hospital." She clarifies.
"They did," I nod, trying to figure out how to tell her, because I can already see the dark clouds gathering between her brows just thinking of Marcello, the mobster king. "He offered me a job, Mom. I'm his private nurse now."
"No!" She doesn't say it in a disbelieving way. Or ayou're kidding meway. She says it with all the authority of a mom, making me feel like a little girl again.No! You can't have that. No! You can't wear that. I said, no!
I open my mouth, almost saying the words I said a million times as a kid,why not? But I think better of it. I'm twenty-seven years old, dammit. I've lived on my own for years. I'm a trained trauma nurse. I don't cave under pressure. I'm proud of myself when I say, "He's paying me two thousand dollars a day, Mom."
"I don't care if it's ten. You need to stay away from him, Violet, and get your old job back."
She leans back in her chair, staring me down like she did when I was five.
"Mom, you don't understand, this money. I can?—"
"I said I don't care, Violet. And neither should you."
The waiter brings our food. He must sense the tension between us, because he doesn't say a word, just puts our plates in front of us and leaves.
She leans forward and, folding her hands on the table, turns into sensitive mom. "I understand how tempting a man like him can be, Violet. Trust me, I really do." There's something in her voice and expression that raises little alarm bells in my head and makes me listen. "Men like him have the ability to make all your dreams come true just like that," she pushes her hands in the air as if throwing confetti, "and when they do, it's all wonderful rainbows and unicorns." She looks almost dreamy. "But then," she snaps her finger in front of my face, "in an instant, they can take it all away."
A flippant answer:isn't that like all men? lies at the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down. Her expression is too serious. Toobeen there, done that, to not truly consider her words.
"What are you telling me, Mom?" I lower my voice.
"That you need to quit that job right now and beg for your old one back." She glares at me, leaning back again on her chair and shaking her head slowly, in aI can't believe you childway.
I feel like one, too. Scolded. Caught doing something bad. Chastised.
"Who was it, Mom?" I dare ask.
"Nobody," she replies in herI won't talk about it,voice.
"Was it my dad?" Is she finally going to tell me?
She rises from the chair, dropping a hundred-dollar bill on the table. "Let it go, Violet. And don't ever see that man again."
"Mom?" I can't believe she's going to leave the restaurant in a huff like this.
She turns, and my stomach sinks. Her eyes are swimming in tears. "Don't do this, Violet. I wouldn't survive it if something happened to you."
