Even his hair is perfectly tousled, like each careless curl was placed exactly where it belongs.
He looks entirely out of place doing something so domestic as dishes, and yet it warms my heart to watch him doing it.
“So, Gio, what is it you do, exactly?” I ask, focusing my attention on the sink full of pots and pans that need to be scrubbed.
But even with my body turned, I can feel him tense beside me for a moment—as if the question caught him completely off guard.
“It’s a… family business,” he says, sounding strangely cryptic, and when I look pointedly at him, lifting my eyebrows, he laughs. “We mostly manage investments, with some interest in local buildings and businesses.”
“Sounds dangerous,” I tease, flashing him a grin.
Surprise flashes across his face, replaced by amusement just as quickly. “You could say that. There’s actually been quite a bit of… upheaval lately.”
His look is oddly pointed, like I’m missing something, and I pause washing the dishes to face him more fully.
“How so?”
“Well, my father passed away unexpectedly, and though my older brother was supposed to take over the business, he chose to pass that responsibility to me instead.” His brows furrow, his face suddenly looking years older as the weight of his new position clearly weighs on him.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I say, though a nagging sense of foreboding prickles at the back of my brain.
It takes a second to recall why.
I said those same words to someone else quite recently, and his response that the person wasn’t dead yet had creeped me out.
But Gio’s reaction is entirely different.
His expression softens, his eyes flooding with that endless sadness I caught a glimpse of earlier, and it hits me that he must have been thinking of his father before, when I was missing the early days of my son’s childhood.
“My family lost a great deal that day,” he says softly. “But my brothers are determined to keep the family business alive.”
A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and I instinctually respond in kind, grinning as I return to the dishes.
“Hand dry?” Gio asks, grabbing a towel from the handle of the stove as I pass him the clean sauce pot.
“Please,” I say, then bite back a gasp as our fingers brush momentarily.
Gio’s eyes snap to mine, their hazel depths captivating as he seems to notice the effect his touch has on me.
In an instant, the air between us feels charged, an electrical current of anticipation raising goosebumps along my arms.
I hold my breath, unable to move or speak as I wait.
For one heart-stopping moment, I think he might kiss me.
He leans in ever so slightly, his eyes flicking down to my lips, and my tongue darts out to wet them as my mouth goes dry.
“Jane,” Gio murmurs, the name suddenly sounding foreign during such an intimate moment.
Feet clatter noisily down the stairs as Jackson joins us, his sudden return snapping the taut suspense.
“Mom, I need help with this one,” he says as he enters the kitchen, heavy math textbook clasped in his hands, his thumb marking the page he’s working on.
“Sure, Jay,” I agree, breaking eye contact with Gio to look at Jackson. “Why don’t you take it in the living room, and I’ll be right there?” I suggest, combing my fingers through Jackson’s unruly hair.
“Okay.”
Jackson flounces back out of the kitchen, oblivious to the fact that he interrupted anything of consequence, and I release a breathy laugh as I turn my attention back to Gio.
