“Right.” Doc’s gaze lingers on the simmering pot.
“Did your mom make brodo?”
He snorts. “My mom was a pillhead, Tits. Kraft mac and cheese was the only pasta I got growing up.”
Before I can think of what to say to this, Bobby wanders in. “What’s going on? Why can I smell—”
He sees me and does a double take. Doc laughs. “Here’s a boy whose mama made pasta, Tesorina. Basher’s nearly as bad as Morelli. Won’t go to Italian restaurants because it doesn’t taste enough like home.”
“Hi,” I say, avoiding eye contact. “Welcome back.”
“Hey.” Bobby’s wearing a cable knit sweater and looks every bit my former math tutor. “Are you… good?”
I think of his stubbled cheeks brushing my thighs, the soft swipes of his tongue, the tattoo of a swordfish on his heavy bicep… I stare down at the cutting board. I know people hook up with people and then talk to them again. Why can’t I?
Doc cackles into the awkward silence. “Hey, you know what actually tastes like home to Basher, Tits?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Bobby snarls.
I manage to smile at him. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“Aww lovers reunion,” Doc mumbles, shoving a cigarette between his teeth. He pulls a lighter from his pocket and snaps it so a tiny flame appears.
I almost have a heart attack. “You can’t smoke in here!”
Doc raises his blond brows. “Pardon?”
“I just cleaned! Can’t you go outside?”
He scowls, and for a moment I’m sure he’s going to light it just to spite me. But then the cigarette and lighter vanish. “If I behave, can I kiss you again?”
I remember those slow, confident laps of his tongue and my face becomes unbearably hot. “I… No. You can just have healthier lungs.”
Doc rolls his eyes and I’m reminded so forcibly of Zia Teresa I almost burst into tears. Maybe it’s fate. No matter where I go, some grumpy Italian will refuse to quit smoking around me. I pick up the cutting board and slide the chopped vegetables into the pot.
“How about I give you another kiss anyway?” Doc says. “Just because you like it so much?”
I glance over my shoulder and Doc laughs. “Worried Basher’ll get jealous? Don’t. He likes sharing. Remember last night?”
Bobby’s cheeks go scarlet, but he doesn’t look angry. My insides tighten. I have no idea what I want to happen.
Doc slides off the bench and takes the cutting board out of my hands. “One kiss, Tesorina. That’s all.”
“Doc…”
“Domenico,” he corrects. “Whenever we do this, you call me by my real name.”
I look away. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I was supposed to be a servant. To fade into the background.
Doc’s finger lifts my chin. “Just one little kiss.”
My eyes flick to Bobby. He’s watching the two of us with a strange expression on his face.
Doc bends down and nuzzles my neck. “Don’t be shy, baby. Basher knows how much you like kissing. He could taste it.”
I swallow, my mouth dry as toast. Doc smells like cigarettes and liquor, cologne and sweat. I know I should pull away, but I close my eyes instead.
