“The Navesink River,” I said, feeling that sensation ofhomeunfurl in my chest.
“I’m an idiot. I totally didn’t put that together,” she admitted, shaking her head.
“You’ll know all about it soon enough.”
“Tell me things now.”
“Well, you see that bridge over there? If you go over that one, you run into the beach. This street we’re passing now is where Jon Bon Jovi used to live. And a little further down this road, we’re going to come across a giant clown sign that everyone has been fighting to keep for years. They’re building some town center monstrosity in the area, and the clown has to go.”
“I hate when towns tear down landmarks. There’s so much lore in some places. Even if the lore is kind of ugly,” she declared as we finally drove past the clown.
As we kept driving, I pointed out other things: the schools I went to, the places I used to hang out as a teen, where I’d had my first jobs, the businesses owned by various family members, the street where my mom lived.
“She’s going to love you, you know that, right?” I asked, giving her thigh a squeeze.
“I’m pretty sure she would love anyone who would get her last single son to settle down and give her grandbabies.”
She knew my mom too well already.
“Maybe. But she’s going to loveyoutoo.”
“Are we going to Sunday dinner?”
“Not this one, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because I may have made Luca swear not to tell my family that I was back yet.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I want a few days alone with you. Really lock you down. Before you meet them and have second thoughts,” I said, getting a warm smile out of her.
“I know I’m going to love them all. They’re part of you.”
I knew it down to my damn marrow that this was the right move, the right woman, the right future.
And I couldn’t wait to see what came next.
Roe - 5 days
Milo’s idea of ‘nothing too special’ and mine were wildly different things.
Sure, maybe my idea was skewed thanks to living in a converted hotel room with no real kitchen and a bathroom barely big enough to brush my dang hair in. And before that, it was a lot of hotel rooms and a cramped New York City apartment with no closet space and a radiator that spat fire all winter long.
But I think anyone would say Milo Grassi’s home was, objectively, a very nice place.
He lived in a new-build apartment building that I might even call ‘luxury’ compared to some of the other ones we’d seen when driving around and exploring the area.
He was on the top floor with three bedrooms, two full baths, dedicated living and dining spaces, a small flex area, and a respectably sized kitchen. With an oven. And a dishwasher. His fridge even had an ice maker.
I felt like a damn princess after the past year in my apartment.
Alley, too, had been settling in.
And by ‘settling in,’ I mean claiming the place like some queen on her throne. I swear I could practically hear her inner monologue as she walked around the place the first time:Yes, this is what I have always deserved.
She loved Milo, tolerated me, and was having a one-sided beef with one of the cats in the complex who walked around the quad behind the buildings.
