She rolls her eyes, but I catch the smirk tugging at her mouth. "And he’s so kind," I add. "Not just polite. He’s gentle,thoughtful. Not the fake kind of good. The real shit." I let the moment breathe. "Even Lorenzo’s obsessed with him," I say, laughing a little. "You know that’s not easy."
Her eyes widen. "Lorenzo? Our Lorenzo?"
"Yeah, you have no idea," I say. She laughs.
I look down again. "And he’s amazing with kids, mom. The kind of guy who actually listens when a five-year-old tells a story about dragons or bugs. And he never talks down to them." I bite my lip. "But the best thing is…" I look up at her. "He sees all my worst parts." I pause. "And he doesn’t leave. He doesn’t try to fix me like I’m broken. He just helps me be better."
Her expression softens. "And remember when you used to call him a dork?"
She raises a brow, defensive. "I didnot—"
"You absolutelydid."
She tries to look innocent. Fails. "Well," I say, smirking, "that dork made Charles shut the fuck up. For real. With words. Didn’t raise a hand. Just straight-up verbal annihilation." Her jaw drops a little.
"You should’ve seen it. The way he stood up for me. And for him. You’d have been shocked. Mouth on the floor. He turned Charles into a statue." I grin wide. "The man totally snapped, I swear to God."
"Oh my god." She shakes her head, stunned. "You’re actually in love." She blinks rapidly. "My little Giovanni, you finally fell in love with something other than a chunk of metal on wheels."
I burst out laughing.
"Okay, rude, but accurate," I say, grinning. She reaches over and pinches my cheek with mock annoyance. "You’re glowing, you brat."
I shrug. Don’t even argue. Maybe I am.
She looks at me with the softest expression, then she reaches over, brushes her thumb against my hand.
"I’m so happy to see you like this," she says quietly. "I’m sorry I used to tell you to stay away. From him. From feeling anything, really." I frown a little. "Mom—"
"No. I mean it. I thought I was protecting you. But, look at us. Look where we are." She smiles, sad and warm all at once.
"This life is too unpredictable for us to hide from the things we feel." And for once, I don’t push back. I just nod. "Yeah," I say. "I’m glad you said that."
Because truth is, I haven’t had one moment like this with her in years. And I needed it. After a few seconds, she tilts her head.
"So…what are you going to do?"
"About what?"
She gives me a look. "About Rava. About the fact that he has to leave." I sigh. Sit back in the chair again. "I don’t know yet," I admit. "But I’ll figure it out. I know I will. Whatever happens, I can’t lose him. I won’t. Not this time."
Suddenly, she starts crying. "Hey," I say, sitting forward. "Why are you crying?"
She sniffles. Shakes her head, laughing through it. "I just wish your father could be here." Her voice cracks. "He would’ve been so proud of you, Giovanni. Not just for loving someone. But for the man you’ve become."
I freeze. Shit. "Stop," I say quickly. "Don’t make me cry too. We’ll look pathetic in here." She laughs, wiping under her eyes.
"Sorry, sorry." Then she reaches up, touches my cheek. Her thumb hovers over the bruise. "You didn’t just get his face," she says softly. "You got his good heart too."
I look down. Smile. Then look back up at her. "That means more than you know." She reaches toward my wrist. "Wait a minute. What’s that?"
I follow her gaze to the colorful bracelet.
GIO?RAVA.
I grin. "This?" I ask. She gives me the look. The I-birthed-you-don’t-play-dumb-with-me look. "You didn’t make that."
"Obviously not," I say, holding my hand up. "Do I look like a guy who can handle string and beads? Please. I’d probably glue my fingers together somehow."
