“She’s a writer, Ma,” Vinnie says proudly.“A good one too.”
She pulls her head back, looking at me in awe but still holding me so tightly, I can barely breathe.“A smart girl.Santino!”she yells over her shoulder.“Get your ass in here and meet Vinnie’s girl.”She smiles at me.“Sorry, he’s watching the Sox in the den.”
“Well, at least it’s not the Cubs.”I laugh.
A handsome older man, not as built as the younger ones, steps into the living room.He’s mumbling to himself as he walks toward me, but as soon as he looks at me, his eyes light up.“Bianca,” he says like he knows exactly who I am.“Vinnie’s told me a lot about you.”
More heat creeps up my neck, filling my cheeks, which I didn’t think was possible because I’m already completely embarrassed by the greeting his family is giving me.
“He has?”I turn and eye Vinnie, wondering what he’s been saying about me.
Vinnie pulls me back to his side.“Was I right, Pop?”
“You were right, son.Beautiful and smart.I’m Santino,” he tells me as he grabs my hand and brings it to his lips.“But you can call me Tino.”He sweeps his lips across the top of my hand ever so lightly.
The men in this family have charm, looks, and more muscles than human beings should be allowed to have.It’s ridiculous.It’s like I stepped into one of my books.But it’s not fantasy; it’s reality.
“Tino,” Vinnie’s mother says, pushing him away from me.“Stop pawing the poor girl.”She hooks her arm through mine and ushers me toward the kitchen with Vinnie still attached to me.“We’re eating in ten.”
I fully expect the rest of the family to go back to what they were doing before we arrived, but they don’t.They follow us and take seats around the large table as Vinnie pulls out a chair for me.
To say this is overwhelming is an understatement.“You should’ve warned me,” I say as he kisses my cheek, but I keep my voice low enough so no one else can hear over their own chatter.
“So, Bianca, what do you write?”Daphne holds a bottle of wine in the air, tipping it toward me.
I nod because even though it’s barely noon, I could use a drink.“I write novels.”
“Romance novels,” Vinnie adds.“Hot as hell ones, too.”
Daphne’s face lights up, and she glances at Tilly and Delilah.“We love a hot read.Maybe we’ve read you.What’s your writing name?”
“Bianca May.”
“Oh.My.God.No way.”
“Way,” I say with a smile, assuming she’s read a book or at least heard of me somewhere.
“We have two celebrities sitting at the table,” Tilly says with a small chuckle.“A superstar quarterback and a big-time romance author.”
“I don’t know about all that.”
“Don’t be modest, sweetheart,” Tilly says.“Take credit where credit is due.”
“I love your books,” Daphne says, “and I agree with Tilly.You’re a rock star.”
Mrs.Gallo comes to stand at the edge of the table, again wielding the spatula she had in her hand when we first arrived.“Should I read them?”
“No.Don’t.”My answer is quick and confident.The last thing I want is my guy’s mom reading my books.
My guy?
Oh sweet Jesus.
Now I’m starting to sound like Vinnie.Where did that come from?I’m still in my don’t-have-time-for-a-man-or-the-distraction hiatus, or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
In the last ten days, I’ve spent more time with Vinnie than I did with some of my past boyfriends I’d dated for months.
“Ma, they’re right up your alley,” Delilah tells her as I fidget with my hands in my lap, trying to stop myself from running out of here in sheer panic.
