“I love you, Sweets,” I croaked, “but please…save the licks for Cousin Neil. Damn, Neil. Why is her breath so bad?”
Neil took Sweets and set her on a little blanket that was on the recliner. She turned three or four times, scratched the blankets the way she wanted them, and then took her spot.
He covered her ears. “Because she’s old, Peps.” He looked at me and fixed his designer glasses. “You’ve always been sort of a squatter, so you being here doesn’t exactly surprise me, but the call from Phoebe across the hallway did. I didn’t expect it. I thought you would have called me first.”
I shrugged. “I’ve had a lot going on.”
His steel blue eyes looked me over. He grabbed my hand and I tried to yank it away.
“If you tell me you’re married, I might still hold out hope that Kirill Balabanov will tell me all the Russian’s secrets.”
“He’s dead, Neil.”
“I know.”
Our eyes held and my throat felt tight.
“I am,” I whispered. “I’m married to Nazzareno Fausti.”
The refrigerator started to run in the kitchen. It seemed to buzz between us.
“Are you happy, Peps?”
“Yeah, or I was.”
“What happened?”
I looked away from Neil. “I can’t tell you.”
He reached out and took my hand, squeezing. “I understand the rules, Peps. It’s okay.”
I nodded and looked at him. “I hoped you would.”
He looked down at the couch. “Not as much as I hoped you’d get rid of this damn plastic.”
We grinned at each other and started laughing quietly.
“Why haven’t you done it?” I wiped my eyes.
“Andrea. He’s attached to everything in here. He said if you decided to take it, though, it was yours to decorate as you’d like. We both figured you could pack everything up.” He shrugged. “Truth is, we both loved his aunt, and it’s hard saying goodbye. She feels like an integral part of this place.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I understand that.”
He fixed me with a knowing stare. “I can tell you do—now. You’ve changed, Peps.”
“I have.”
He leaned forward some. “Are you heading to Vice today?”
“I’ll drop by, but I have to visit Joe the Detective first.”
“As much as he’s been around Vice since Balabanov lost his heart, you’d do better meeting him there.”
We grew quiet at what he’d said. I knew the truth had dawned on him. Neil was so intelligent and intuitive, one of the best journalist’s I’d ever worked with, and I knew in that moment he had connected the pieces.
“Damn, Peps, this is some heavy shit.”
“I know.” I squeezed his hand. “Which is why you need to get going with Sweets. It’s better, you know?”
