It’s nothing I can’t overcome.
I slip into the waiting elevator, a touch disappointed that this ride to the penthouse is missing the vicious little kitten next door.
I chuckle to myself as I think about how Savannah would react to me calling her that. My dick gets hard just thinking about her yelling at me. New kink unlocked?
Maybe.
Usually, I’m the one in charge and barking orders, but for some reason, the idea of her bossing me around gives me a raging hard-on.
I pause at my door and glance at hers. The hallway is smoke free and quiet. Too quiet, making me wonder if she’s home asleep or out with friends. Or maybe a boyfriend?
Oh, fuck no. The thought of her with another man makes my ribs too tight for my insides, making me queasy.
Is that jealousy?
Fuck, that’s new. And kind of fucked up because I have no right to be jealous, but the feeling is there anyway.
What the hell is that all about?
With a sharp exhale, I shake my head, pushing those unfamiliar feelings away, and open my apartment. I’m greeted with the delicious aroma of garlic, tomatoes, and herbs.
I toss my bag on the floor and head towards the sound of clanging pots and pans.
“Nico?”
I turn the corner to find my mother cooking. Various trays and casserole dishes filled with Italian food litter the stove and countertops. I’m surprised, and also not surprised, to find her cooking in my apartment. She does this. Pops by my place to fill up my refrigerator with trays of food like I don’t know how to cook for myself.
I grew up on the baseball field, and in the kitchen at her and Zia Rose’s restaurant, so I know how to take care of myself.
“Hey, Ma.” I circle the counter and drop a kiss on the top of her head as she rolls focaccia.
“Mio figlio.” My son. “You’re here.”
“Where else would I be, Ma?” I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and take a seat at the island.
“You could have been out withfriends.” She says friends, but I know she means women. We don’t talk about my personal life unless she’s suggesting I settle down and give her grandbabies.
“I went out with my friends when we were on the road.”
“Cam too?” I don’t dare roll my eyes at my mother. She’s a fucking saint, like all the single moms out there struggling to raise their kids, work, and be everything to everyone.
But I don’t like what she’s insinuating about Cam. I know it’s my fault, but it annoys me anyway.
“No. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. Cam goes with the team for dinner, then goes back to the hotel room, where he talks to Talia until he falls asleep. You need to accept him, Ma.”
“I do.” She places raw dough into a dish, presses it out, and then drizzles olive oil over it. Guilt hits me again. Ma is holding onto her indifference towards Cam for me.
“Let me ask you, do you do this”—I wave my hand around the kitchen at all the food she has prepared for me—“for Talia?”
She makes a face. “Why would I do that?”
My mother’s over-attentiveness towards me is why Talia feels like she’s less important. “Because she’s your daughter. She works crazy hours, and Cam travels.”
Ma waves her hand in the air. “Lia doesn’t like my fussing over her.”
“Now she doesn’t, but she did when we were kids.”
Since Talia started dating Cam, we’ve had a few conversations about how she’s felt pushed to the side. It breaks my fucking heart because my sister means the world to me.
