Gazing at me with his brow furrowed, Torre shook his head. “I must be the biggest idiot in the world, because I actually believe you.”
“You should. I don’t joke. Not about that.”
Giving me a silent nod, Torre remained standing by the door, and I wasn’t sure where we were leaving it.
“So…I guess I’ll go.” Never had I felt more uncertain with anyone.
Torre opened the door, and I slipped my arms through my leather jacket. I pulled my phone out to call for a car as we walked up the steps to street level.
“What’re you doing now?”
I had no clue. “Probably go to some gallery, drink bad champagne, and eat lousy cheese. Maybe annoy my friend Presley if he’s not busy with the boyfriend.”
A tiny part of me must be some kind of terrible person because I sometimes wished Press didn’t have Nate and it was just the two of us, as it used to be. But for Press, I knew having a lover and a home was all he’d ever wanted, and I couldn’t help but wonder at my own rising disillusionment the past months. Parties and openings I used to enjoy and look forward to now bored me, and the thrill of the chase no longer gave me anything but a climax and the desire to leave as quickly as possible. Nor did my own company help, not when my thoughts grew blacker than the deepening night sky.
“Want to come upstairs with me? Watch the game and have some dinner?”
My heart jumped, and from Torre’s expression, I gathered my face registered surprise, because he immediately backed down.
“It’s okay. I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out here and eat wings and ribs.”
I dropped my phone into my jacket. “Are you withdrawing the invite? Because what if I want to? Even if I’ll have to watch my back because your brother will want to put a knife in it.”
Torre snickered. “You’re not wrong.”
A few cars passed by, and the dog walkers were out again. It was peaceful here, and I could see the appeal of wanting a hideaway from the noise and smells and people of the city. In the summer I imagined families tending their gardens, similar to my father’s small cottage where he liked to go and paint. When he wasn’t fucking his models.
“Are you serious?”
“About what?” He stuck his hands into the pockets of his sweat pants.
“The invitation.”
“Are you? You want to hang out with my family? My mother will be there. And my little niece.”
My stomach churned at the thought. Family had never been my strong suit, except for Presley’s parents because they truly loved me and never hesitated to welcome me as their second child. My own mother was happy enough to get rid of me so she could screw Luca without worrying if I was doing the same.
“I don’t mind.”
“Okay, let’s do it.”
We climbed the steep steps, and he pushed open the door. The smells and sounds of a house well loved and lived in reached out to me—red sauce and garlic, roasting meat. Thehumof a television and excited, raised voices. A child’s laughter.
All foreign and yet I had no qualms about entering the lion’s den. I followed Torre as he led us deeper into the house. Pictures of people with smiling faces stared at me from the walls. A polished wooden staircase led up to a second story, but Torre walked to the rear of the house, passing rooms with high ceilings, crown molding, and one containing a beautiful marble fireplace, with more pictures lining the surface. I’d spent many evenings at Nate’s brownstone, and it reminded me of that but on a smaller scale. I knew Press with his antiques-loving heart would die to inspect it all.
We stopped at the arched entrance of a large room. A huge flat-screen was anchored to the wall and a sectional sofa faced it, along with several large club chairs. A multicolored rug covered the shining wooden floors. Mike sat in one of those chairs with a very pretty woman I vaguely remembered from the restaurant snuggled next to him. A little girl played with dolls on the rug at their feet. Two men were eating wings, and I recognized Torre’s mother sitting on the sofa. There were several other men and women, all watching the game. Mid-cheer for the Nets scoring, Mike spied us standing there.
“What the hell?”
Torre’s mother peered over her shoulder, and we were rewarded with a huge smile. She jumped up. “Torre and…Frisco? I didn’t know you were coming. What a nice surprise. Come in and find a space. The Nets are actually winning.”
“I know you’ve already met my mother, Maureen.” Torre grinned.
“Again, a pleasure.” I accepted her kiss on the cheek.
I stayed close to Torre’s side as he introduced me to Val, Mike’s wife, who unlike her husband, seemed delighted to see me, and the other family friends, Uncle Rich and Uncle Jerry and their wives, Donna and Marie.
“None of whom are related to us, but are as much a part of the family as if they were blood.”
