“I see, bud. Very cool.”
I smiled, stroking Felix’s hair. “We need to get going if we’re going to have time for dinneranda movie.”
“Okay, Auntie Brina. I already brushed my teeth.”
“Thank you,” I said, grabbing our coats and walking out to the truck.
By the time we walked back into the house, I think I was more exhausted than Felix. Although, he’d fallen asleep on the drive home, so we were both pretty wrecked.
“You can skip your bath tonight,” I said. “Go brush your teeth and then get your PJs on.”
“I’ll come read to you when you’re ready,” Stoney offered, and I smiled tiredly.
“Thank you.”
Once Felix was out of eyeshot, Stoney wrapped his arms around me and kissed me gently. “You wiped?”
“So, so wiped,” I whispered, sliding my hands up his back.
“I’ll read to Fox, then head out. You free Tuesday?”
“No, I’m actually having dinner with my dad.”
“What about after dinner?”
I leaned back so I could meet his eyes. “Are you asking if you can have a sleepover, Mr. Stonewell?”
“Yeah, Ms. Moretti, I am,” he said. “If you feel comfortable with that.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for more than this just yet,” I said. “Not that I don’t want to.”
“I get it. We’ll just hang out and I’ll sleep on your sofa, or leave late, whatever you want.”
I smiled. “That sounds nice. Meet me here at ten?”
“Sure.”
“Ready!” Felix called down the stairs, and Stoney released me to take care of his son while I opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass.
As much as I couldn’t wait for Tuesday, I also knew it would be an exercise in frustration, but I had to stick to my guns. I wasn’t in the habit of jumping into bed with someone I didn’t have a relationship with, and we weren’t at that level yet. Admittedly, tonight however, I realized it was a level I wanted to reach. I just didn’t know if he wanted the same.
I sipped my wine and tried not to obsess, easier said than done for me.
* * *
Tuesday night, Dadpicked me up at six and we headed to our favorite little hole in the wall Italian place in Monument. It was owned by an old friend of my father’s, Angelo Scartucci, and had been here since the fifties. As had Angelo. I considered it our place, since we’d been coming here since I was barely old enough to walk.
“Benito Moretti, and sweet Bree,” Angelo announced to the room. “Two of my favorite people!”
I grinned. Dad shook his hand and I accepted a hug.
“Come. I have your table ready for you,” he said, and led us to a table by the fireplace. “Menus?”
“We don’t need menus,” Dad said, and Angelo laughed.
“Of course you don’t,” he said. “I’ll send Mateo over to take your order.”
“Thank you.”
