“I’m sure he does know, logically,” I replied. “But trauma doesn’t work that way. The fear response isn’t always logical.”
Sal’s lips twisted in a sad smile. “Don’t I know it.”
I wasn’t about to ask what Sal was afraid of. I couldn’t begin to imagine, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. “I don’t know what to do. I go between wanting to call it off completely and wanting to push to make him see I’m not like his ex.”
“What does your gut tell you?”
My shoulders slumped in resignation. “That neither of those will get me what I want.”
“And you’re sure he’s what you want?” Sal asked. “You said you tend to get into serious relationships too quickly.”
I rubbed my hand over my eyes. “That’s the thing. I thought so too at the beginning. But this feels different. I don’t even know why. I’m worried it’s wishful thinking again.”
“You want my opinion?”
Might as well. I’ve gotten everyone else’s. “Sure. You’re not as involved in my life as my brothers are. They’re overprotective and tend to overreact. Especially Marco.”
Sal smirked. “I can see that. He’s always been intense.”
“Tell me about it.” I took another sip of my whiskey. “So what’s your opinion?”
“I think this means more to Greg than he’s letting on. He’s having dinner with your brother and his fiancé. Maybe give him time to figure out he’s safe with you.”
It always came back to that. “I know you’re right. I’m just so damned impatient. I feel like I have an expiration date.”
Then my cousin, Salvatore Vitale, the mob boss, rolled his eyes at me. “Jesus Christ, Anthony. You’re thirty-nine, not a hundred and nine. Knock it off.”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. Even better, he joined in the laughter. I waved the server over and ordered two more whiskeys. “Thanks, Sal. I needed that.”
“Any time, cousin. Any time at all.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GREG
The mid-April sun was bright and finally giving off some warmth after a long winter. I had just left Juilliard after practicing the score for the show I was subbing for. I’d finally been called in for the upcoming Wednesday night show and needed to deliver the best possible performance I could.
I stopped by Café Roma and got my latte to go. I wanted to take advantage of the early-spring sunshine while we still had it, so I planned to take my coffee and pastry and walk the two blocks to Central Park. Brendan, the redheaded barista, was there, but the asshole Mark had quit. In his place was an older woman with a pleasant smile. I chatted with Brendan while I waited and found out his end-of-semester exhibit was the last week of April.
As I made my way toward the park, I decided I would ask Tony to go to the exhibit with me. He liked art, and he might appreciate seeing some up-and-coming artists. I hadn’t seen him this week because he’d been monitoring Marco’s team while they were overseas rescuing some executive, and I had a website to build in addition to practicing for the upcoming show.
As soon as I entered the park, I took a deep breath and felt my whole body relax. The sounds of traffic became muted,and I could hear dogs barking and children laughing and squealing. I walked along the tree-lined pathway until I got to Sheep Meadow, where I discovered I wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the sunny spring day.
All around me, people were playing ball, tossing frisbees, or lying on blankets, soaking up the sun’s rays. I saw couples walking hand-in-hand and families sharing food from coolers. My stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten much today, so I found a patch of sun and sat drinking my coffee and eating the delicious pastry from Café Roma.
I’d gotten up to throw away my trash when I heard someone shout, “Look out!” At the same time, I was sure I heard Tony call my name.
I turned in time to see a frisbee coming toward me. Not having the greatest reflexes, I only managed to get my arm up, so the thing didn’t hit me in the face. I shook my arm out. “Ow,” I grumbled.
The owner of the Frisbee ran up to me, looking apologetic. He looked to be a little older than me, average height and slender, with light-brown hair and pale-blue eyes. “I’m so sorry. It got away from me. Are you okay?”
I picked up the offending item and handed it back to him. “I’m fine. Luckily, it hit my arm and not my face.”
“I’m really sorry,” he said again. “Maybe I can buy you a coffee to make it up to you?”
I was already shaking my head. “No, it’s fine. I just finished my coffee.”
He looked like he was going to try to convince me, but he never got the chance. A large warm hand landed on my shoulder, and Tony said, “Hey, Greg. How are you doing?”
