“What else do you want to know?”
‘Everything’ continued to be my answer.
This time, I’d try my hardest to leave her job out of it. As badly as I wanted to know, I couldn’t risk another abrupt exit again. My plan was to continue keeping it simple, like it had been all night long. Surface level with the hope our conversation would grow deeper as the night went on and the vibe between us remained calm.
“What’s your last name, Avery?”
“Oh gosh, such a pressing question.” She held her hand to her chest and giggled before answering, “Anderson.”
“Avery Anderson,” I stuck my hand out, “Spencer Russo.” Jokingly, her hand met mine for a shake, and I took every opportunity to leave my hand in hers, drawing her body closer.
There was a weight lifted off her shoulders. Something in her demeanor changed while she was sorting through those bags of clothes, and I could feel her continuing to relax in my presence as we settled in.
A sprinkle of doubt lingered in my mind, hoping she wasn’t just putting on a face. Hoping this wasn’t just a job for her. I made it known that I was paying for thereal herand not to be treated as just any other client.
“Russo. SoItalian Stallionof you to have a last name like that.” She pulled her legs up and her knees brushed against the top of my thighs. Everything about us sitting this closely together felt so natural.
“Italian Stallion?” I gave her a quizzical look.
“My friend Peyton referred to you as the‘Italian Stallion’from the bar and I guess it just kind of stuck.” Shifting her gaze away from mine, she tucked her hair behind her ear, just for it to fall back in front of her eyes.
“Your friend has me pegged. My parents are Italian and moved to the States just before I was born. Couldn’t get more Italian than growing up the way I did.”
“If you weren’t born in Italy like your parents, where did you grow up then?”
“New York. Moved to California when I was a teenager for my dad’s job. Lived there until I moved here.”
“California?” Her head tilted in the cutest way. “That’s where I’m from.”
“Yeah? What part?”
“Small town that you’ve probably never heard of.”
“Try me.” I smirked.
“Julian. It’s a little town in the mountains. Only an hour drive to the beach. Best of both worlds, some would say.”
“I know exactly where Julian is. I grew up in San Diego.” I smiled at the irony of our hometowns being so close together.
“Small world. And now we’re both here.” Her lips curved into a smile. “What was your life like growing up?”
“Family, and lots of it. Sunday dinners were no exception, and holidays were a huge spectacle.”
Something about reflecting on my childhood, remembering those tableside conversations, the friends that weren’t family by blood, yet my mom would invite them over anyway—it made me miss the simpler times.
Life before I was surprised with the fact that I was a father. Before the grind of work took over my life so much that visits back to San Diego were rare. A time in my life that felt so long ago, yet I remembered those times like they were yesterday.
“Wow. That sounds like it was really nice.” Something in her tone slipped, like she was forcing herself to get the words out. Her once flirty smile turned down, and her eyes shifted to her lap.
“Hey, what’s that look for?” I reached up, tilting her chin to look at me.
“It’s nothing.” She shrugged.
“Avery, you can talk to me. If I said something wrong, please tell me.”
She took a deep breath, her voice turning timid.
“You didn’t say anything wrong. It’s just … by the sounds of it, we grew up very differently. But your upbringing sounds a lot like what I wished for as a kid.” The way I sensed the struggle in her voice not only made me curious, but sad.
