“You said we had to hurry, so I let my body give in for once.” He kisses my hand and sits up. “We should really get going, though. Don’t want to make you late.”
My jaw remains slightly ajar at this revelation as we both get out of bed. I choose an easy, black, long-sleeved shift dress for the day. For once, being an overpacker worked to my advantage.
I fasten my bra and pull the dress over my head. “You’re right. I heard the tailor takes forever with his appointments, and I don’t have one. So I already know it’ll be a long day of arguing.”
He shoots me a playful glare, zipping up his pants. “Even when we bickered, I enjoyed your company.”
“Aw, that’s kind of twistedly sweet.” I pull on a pair of knee high socks. “One day, I’d love to hear more of the reasons behind your mayhem.”
He chuckles, and we both finish getting ready. I style my hair in the bedroom while he turns on the coffee maker in the kitchen. Then, we brush our teeth next to each other in the bathroom, before grabbing some tree-nut free granola bars and filling our travel mugs. Everything feels so natural with him.
We have about fifteen minutes to spare, so Gio brings his coffee to the side table by the couch. He leans back and sinks into the cushions. I follow him and do the same.
He picks up his mug and takes a sip of his drink. “That could be fun, actually. To tell you the reasons behind some of my ‘chaotic choices,’ as you so lovingly put it.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Fun for who? Me or you?”
He grins. “Maybe both. When were you themostannoyed with me?”
I set my mug on the coffee table. “Toss up among three things.”
“The first?”
“When you asked that I refer to you only as Signore Cattaneo.”
He bursts out laughing. I glare at him while he sets down his mug to avoid spilling his drink.
I pretend to be mad, crossing my arms, but I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. “I’m glad my suffering is hilarious to you. Why’d you do that one?”
“No reason. Just because I thought it was funny,” he wheezes in between guffaws of laughter.
I pick up a pillow and chuck it at his face, but he ducks, narrowly avoiding the hit. Looking me dead in the eyes, he solemnly recites, “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”
“Of course,nowwould be the time you get an idiom correct.” I groan. “I mean, good for you. You probably don’t have that many years left with your brain at full capacity. Small wins should be celebrated.”
“You’ll pay for that!” he shouts, tackling me to the couch and trapping my hands on either side of me.
“Oh yeah? How so?”
He presses a hard kiss to my lips.
“Oh. Well, ifthat’sthe punishment… You’re so old, your first pet was a pterodactyl.”
He kisses me harder, sucking on my lower lip.
“Tell me, was the variety of Eve’s forbidden apple Granny Smith or MacIntosh?”
He nips my lower lip.
“Ow! Fine, you win.” I reach up and push his face away.
“Thank you.” He smiles, giving me a peck on the cheek. Pushing off the couch with his arms and sitting up again, he asks, “Well? What was the next one?”
“Oh. When you wore those Lamont-wannabe tinted glasses for a week.” I snort. “Joke’s on you though, they were hideous. Probably just another time you thought messing with me was funny, right?”
He gives me a lopsided grin, shaking his head. “Nah, I did that one because they made you smile.”
I pull his face to mine for another kiss. “Last one. What about the embroidered swatches? The ones you designed with the veiled insults just to irritate me?”
