Tilly laughs loudly. “That one may not go over so well.”
“She’ll probably smack me,” I say, laughing with her.
Tilly sobers. “She loves you, though. You don’t know how lucky you are to have three siblings. I have no one except me.”
“I can’t imagine. I’m sorry.”
The thought of being an only child is so foreign to me. Yeah, the house would’ve been quieter growing up, but there would’ve been so much boredom in the silence.
She waves me off. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t really know what it’s like to have a brother or sister.”
“Loud.”
She laughs again. “I could get used to a little noise.”
“Roger seems to care about you,” I tell her, prying into their relationship.
He didn’t seem to be happy when he found me in the kitchen at her shop. Roger was overprotective, almost like he was sweet on her.
She sighs. “When his brother died, he made it his mission to make sure I was okay. He cares too much sometimes, but he’s not in love with me, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”
“I wasn’t.”
But I was.
No man sticks around that long and is that fierce about someone unless they love them.
She smirks, probably not buying my statement. “Mitchell was his only sibling. I guess Roger adopted me in a way so he wouldn’t be as lonely too. Besides—” she leans forward with her chin resting against her fingers “—he’d more likely be into you than me.”
“Oh.” I laugh, feeling like a complete tool for thinking I was going to have to worry about Roger.
“Yeah. He’s a good guy, though.”
“You want to get out of here?”
“I’m sure you need to get home to the kids.”
“They’re sleeping by now. I don’t live too far from here. Maybe we can swing by and check on them before we head back downtown.”
“I’d love that,” she says and grabs her purse off the table, standing as I do.
While I do want to check on the kids, I really want to be alone with Tilly. I’d like nothing more than to kick up our feet and talk until the wee hours of the morning instead of sitting in a pizza shop on the far South Side. I’m not ready for the evening to be over. Not quite yet.
She walks in front of me as we walk outside. The wind kicks up, and her vanilla scent surrounds me. There’s a peacefulness to the smell. Comfort. I place my hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward my car.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” I ask because the last thing I want to do is make her feel uncomfortable.
She turns her face toward me. “Your hand or your house?”
“Both.”
“They’re more than okay, Angelo.”
In this moment, standing in the parking lot and touching her, it’s the first time I’ve wanted to kiss someone other than my wife.
11
Tilly
