She didn’t. She couldn’t.
“You and I have seen a lot of each other these last couple of months,” he went on. “Much of that has had to do with the cases you’ve been consulting on. There will come a time when you’re not my consultant anymore, and I’ll see you less than I’ve been seeing you lately.”
“We don’t need to figure all of this out right now, though, do we?” Lauren asked. It had been a long day. Weariness lay heavy upon her. “It’s not like you’ve proposed—” it was far too premature even to mention the wordmarriage—“anything serious,” she finished.
“I’m serious about what’s important to me, and that means you.” His eyes shone. “I don’t play games. I play for keeps. This is on the level, like you asked. Think about it. If you decide that someone like me isn’t good for someone like you, I expect you to be on the level with me about that, okay?”
“All right, Joe.” Sobered, she rested her head against him and stared into the dancing fire behind the grate. “I’ll think about it.”
He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “There’s a reason many detectives don’t have romantic attachments,” he said quietly.
“But why shouldn’t you have a chance at being as happy as anyone else?”
“It’s not our own happiness we’re thinking of.”
“Your hero, Joe Petrosino,” she said. “Didn’t you say he was married?”
“After years of waiting, yes, he married the woman he loved. Her name was Adelina. She was a waitress at her father’s restaurant, which accounts for how often he ate there.”
“Why did he wait so long to marry her?”
“Because her father objected to the match. Adelina had already been widowed young. He didn’t want her to marry a policeman who could die in the line of duty, making her a widow twice over.”
A chill swept over Lauren. She twisted the fringe on the blanket’s edge around her fingers. “But her father relented, deciding it was worth the risk?”
“He died. They basically married over his dead body, ten years after Petrosino first fell in love with her. For ten years, he went to her restaurant to see her, since they couldn’t be together any other way.”
“Oh my goodness,” she whispered. “He never gave up on her.”
“He didn’t. But he also respected her father’s wishes so much that he didn’t push. He could have stolen kisses or persuaded her to defy her father, but he didn’t. That’s because he loved her, not because he didn’t.”
Lauren closed her eyes and sighed. “Joe Petrosino was far more romantic than Jay Gatsby,” she murmured. She’d read the novel to see what all the fuss was about but couldn’t understand the appeal.
“The Great Gatsby?” Joe scoffed. “Forget it. Gatsby tried to manipulate the girl of his dreams into leaving her husband and running away with him. It was completely selfish. There was nothing great about him.”
A log crumbled in the fire, sending up a spray of sparks. Her face warm from the blaze, Lauren turned and focused on Joe instead.
Stubble shadowed his jaw. “True love takes no for an answer. True love respects the other person’s decisions, even when it hurts.”
She could smell the tiramisu on his breath. He was close enough to kiss her, but she knew he wouldn’t. Not when he was still waitingon her to decide whether she could accept the consequences of his occupation.
Without explicitly stating them, Joe had made clear his intentions. Now Lauren needed to figure out hers.
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1925
The Caravello living room looked nearly the same as it had every other Christmas in Joe’s memory. But with Lauren here, included in the gift exchange that followed the early morning church service, everything was different. Instead of the nostalgia of Christmases past, he found himself wondering about the future. He’d given Lauren a lot to think about last night. So much that he wondered if she wished she hadn’t asked for honesty after all. But he was doing them both a favor by telling her the truth sooner rather than later.
How she responded was up to her. Like Petrosino, he refused to persuade against her convictions.
But, oh, she wasn’t making it easy on him. She’d always been beautiful, but interacting with his parents and Doreen—well, she was radiant. He’d figured she was most comfortable with rich folks. In mansions, hotels, galas. Now he realized with a pang that her natural place was with family. This was where she shined. With people to love and care for. With people who cared for her.
It wasn’t right that she hadn’t grown up with this. He thanked God for Elsa and Ivy in her life. But roommates weren’t forever, unless all of them decided to remain unmarried—a highly unlikely scenario. Where would Lauren be when Elsa and Ivy moved on?
Another man could step in and sweep her off her feet. One who was steady and reliable. Lauren would be fine without Joe. If that’s what she wanted.
“I’ll take that.” Lauren collected cast-off wrapping paper from Doreen and Sal, stuffing it into a paper bag.
When she came to Joe, he stopped her from stooping to pick upmore trash. “As it happens,” he told her, “honesty wasn’t the only thing I got you for Christmas.” He pulled a box from under the tree, took the bag from her, and placed the gift in her hands.
