My smile faltered under his intense gaze. I glanced away. “Okay, seeing you with someone else might break me. But I can rebuild a broken heart. Eventually.” Straightening my spine, I touched his arm. "I’m grateful you introduced me to the possibility that there was someone I could trust, someone who could love me.”
Unfortunately, all this sentimentality sprung a leak in me. Once again, I swiped at my eyes and sighed. “Sorry. I’m not used to makeup, so I’ve probably made another mess of things. At least it’s just me this time. Therapy really must be working.” I chuckled, then sniffled. This was probably embarrassing, but my heart skipped a beat because he was talking to me.
He tutted and led me closer to him. “You know what’s nice about wearing patterned shirts? They hide stains. Including mascara.” He gently wiped my cheeks with his hem.
Giggling, I grasped his wrists. “This isn’t making it any easier to get over my romantic feelings.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want you to.”
I craned my head back to take in more of him. Nice people like him didn’t lead others on for attention. “Why not?”
“Because I love you too,” he whispered.
My ears buzzed at the confession. No. He didn’t. “As a friend?” I clarified.
“As more than that. Look.” He opened the china cabinet and presented me with a familiar plush: Tom the Turkey.
I gasped, lurching toward them both, then stopping myself short. “I thought you sold it.”
He sheepishly scratched the back of his head. “Almost did. But I thought I should put it away for someone special. It was going to be asurprise to ask you to make it official, but I lost the nerve when you came in hot the other night. I thought maybe I was jumping in too fast…again. I wasn’t sure you really liked me.”
“You held my turkey hostage until I made a confession?” I snatched the plush away from him and stroked the feathers. “Why didn’t you just ask me about my feelings? I…”
The fight sizzled out of me at his patient smile and raised eyebrows. Damn those dimples. He could get away with murder. Especially if I had this calming plush nearby.
I furrowed my brow and fluffed the turkey, not quite able to meet his pretty gaze. “I would like to be your girlfriend. I know I still have a lot of work to do, but it’d be nice if…we could go on dates and be exclusive, if that works for you.”
“It does, thanks.” He grinned and kissed my cheek, sending a spark straight to my heart. “I need to work on taking things slowly,” he said. “But maybe, one day, you can come here under normal circumstances. Just try to stay away from Uncle Paulie.” He winked.
“Hey, I heard my name. What is this kid telling you?” Uncle Paulie bellowed.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sal said, gesturing with exaggerated Italian mannerisms.
I laughed and laid my hand on his chest. His heart beat hard under my fingertips, radiating warmth.
Even though the room was crowded with curious people, with him smiling at me, it was safe, not scary. We could do this. Together. I leaned up for a quick, seal-the-deal kind of kiss.
To taking things slow. To love. To building a future together.
The rest of the visit went by in a blur of overly friendly introductions and well-meaning invasiveness, with the turkey plush as my buffer between hugs. Sal ran interference where he could.
“She doesn’t do cheek-kisses yet,” he warned them. “Save it for Christmas.”
Then, most of them blew kisses at me, instead. I winced, but pretended to catch them for the sake of running with the joke.
“Here, let’s get you a plate,” Sal said.
I loaded up for dinner, then sat on a plastic-covered chair. The food was delicious and saved me from answering any questions. One relative was not deterred from conversation.
“You’re a tech?” Uncle Paulie asked, wobbling on his cane.
“Yes, I built robots.”
“Then, what happened? No money in that?”
Wow, he was blunt. I could appreciate that. I dabbed my mouth with a napkin, lipstick and sauce coming away as a red mark. “There was money in it when I could focus. I was sexually harassed by half the department, and the school wouldn’t do anything about it. So, I sued them and started my own freelance business,” I said.
Sal squeezed my shoulder, consoling.
