“They’re beautiful. The stitching is so intricate. I love the contrast of the light thread to leather on the belts,” Tessa murmurs reverently.
Mamma watches her pull out garments with hearts in her eyes. Tessa oohs and aahs over the craftsmanship as Mamma switches to Italian. “She’s such a nice girl, Gio. Sweet, but holds her ground. Perfect for you.”
I fight a wince. The stress of the hospital visit and the lies I’ve told my family are catching up with me. “Sì,” I manage in response.
Looking happily between Tessa and me, Mamma claps her hands. “I’m going to leave you two. I’m sure you want some alone time. But if I can say, once more, how sorry I?—”
“Maria, nothing would make me happier right now than you forgiving yourself for an honest mistake. Because I do,” Tessa says graciously.
Mamma nods and closes the door behind her.
“Thank you,” I say, grateful for Tessa’s attitude toward all of the chaos.
Her eyes widen. “It’s nothing. Your mom is a really good person; I don’t want her to feel bad. Your entire family, actually… They’re all lovely.” She returns one of the garments to the closet, carefully hanging it up.
A mischievous glint flashes in her eye when she turns around to look at me. “I thought your poor attitude was hereditary, but it’s not.”
“Ha ha,” I deadpan, walking around to my side of the bed.
I bend down to open up the lower dresser drawers, gesturing to them. “Mamma cleaned out some drawers for anything you want to take out of your suitcase.”
She clutches her chest and happily sighs. “Oh, thank God. Wrinkly clothes make the back of my ears itch.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Really?That’syour fashion pet peeve?”
Tessa shrugs. “Yep. Some people can pull it off, but I’m not one of them. I just look frumpy.”
She unzips her suitcase and pulls out some clothes. Awkwardly maneuvering around me to get to the dresser drawers, she bends down to put away a pair of jeans.
The room is small, so she bumps into me with her ass. My pulse races at the accidental contact, and it’s difficult not to appreciate the view. With Tessa being so tall, I should’ve told Mamma to empty the top drawers. I wasn’t thinking clearly when she asked.
“Sorry.” Her ass brushes up against my legs again as she stands up.
Tessa returns to her suitcase. “What’s yours?”
“What’s my what?” My voice comes out strained as I try not to dwell on Tessa’s ass.
“Fashion pet peeve.”
“Oh.” Flexing my fingers, I give it some thought. “Maybe not dressing appropriately for events. I’ve accepted a lot of styles in fashion, but jeans and Crocs at the Met Gala is not one of them.”
“Of course. Onemustdraw the line at Crocs,” she nods, pulling a pair of Crocs out of her suitcase.
I bark out a laugh. “You’re going to get arrested if you wear those out.”
She sets down the shoes on top of a shoe bag and folds her arms across her chest. “By whom? The fashion police?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, but it’ll definitely end in some sort of ticket.”
Lifting her chin, she says, “I’m not worried. My Pretend Boyfriend will protect me.”
“Your Pretend Boyfriend will act like he doesn’t know you.” I sit on the edge of the bed, facing the dresser.
Tessa rolls her eyes and picks up her luggage, then stands to place it on the bed next to me. My eyes follow her as she reaches in the suitcase, and I notice two books stowed away. I peer over to see what she might be reading. One looks almost cartoon-like. It’s difficult to tell what that might be, but the other…
“Why did you bringThe Complete Guide to Sewing?” I nod at the book, which has an extra bar code and clear tape secured to the spine. “Did you check this out from the library?”
She closes her suitcase. “Please don’t spy on my things.”
