Maybe they also beat up men who try to hurt you. Send money so you can take time to recover without worrying about bills. Follow up with texts to make sure you’re okay.
Maybe that’s who Alessio is. Maybe he cares more than either of us wants to admit, but he shows it through actions instead of declarations.
I send back a thumbs-up emoji and slip my phone into my purse, but I can’t shake the warmth spreading through my chest.
Despite everything I tell myself about staying guarded, I feel the pull. Stronger every day. It’s more than history between us now.
And that’s the trap. The more I feel, the more impossible it becomes to imagine keeping Austin hidden forever.
I watch my son devour his cone, completely content and oblivious, and my chest aches with the weight of what’s coming.
20
ALESSIO
Standingon Nina’s porch feels like stepping into foreign territory.
The red door clashes spectacularly with the blue siding, and I find myself wondering if she chose that color or if some previous tenant had questionable taste.
I’ve been having this internal argument for two days about whether showing up here is a monumentally stupid idea.
But I can’t stop thinking about the look on Nina’s face that night at the club. The fear and darkness in her eyes as I walked her to this very door have been stuck in my head.
The smart move would be to stay away, keep things simple, avoid whatever gravitational pull this woman has on me.
But here I am anyway, holding enough Chinese food to feed a small army and a Happy Meal I grabbed on impulse. Christ. What’s happening to me?
I press the doorbell before I can talk myself out of it again. When the door opens, Nina’s shock is almost comical.
“Alessio?”
“I’m choosing to take this deer-in-headlights look as a compliment.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, but she steps aside. “Very funny. What are you doing here?”
Her living room surprises me. Everything in my place is black, white, or gray—what my decorator called a “sophisticated neutral palette.” Translation: boring as hell. But this space actually looks like people live in it. Bright colors, mismatched pillows, evidence of real life scattered around.
A juice box sits on the end table next to a stack of picture books that have clearly been read to death. There’s a small red cape draped over the back of a chair and what looks like a superhero mask on the couch.
Nina snatches up the mask, her movements tense. “Austin’s obsessed with superheroes,” she says, not quite meeting my eyes as she tosses it aside. “He wears this thing everywhere.”
“How old is he?”
“Uh, five.”
The math hits me immediately, and I can’t keep the edge out of my voice. “So you got back together with your ex after that night? After he left you hanging with his debt?”
Her face hardens. “Did you come here to judge my life choices?”
The possessive anger churning in my gut surprises me. I’ve never given a damn about a woman’s past or who she slept with after me. But the thought of Nina going back to that worthless piece of shit...
It pisses me off more than it should.
“No.” I hold up the bags like a peace offering. “I brought dinner. And...” I lift the red box, feeling ridiculous. “I figured the kid might not like Chinese food.”
Something shifts in her expression. Surprise, maybe. Or something softer I can’t quite read.
“He’s not here. Keshia took him out.”
