“About what?”
“Getting regular D,” she sings, wiggling her brows.
I take my time pulling a dusty blue romper from the hanger, deliberately smoothing the legs of the fabric down. Tasha has zero patience for suspense. I weaponize that. “Well…” I drag it out.
“Well, tell me, Aria Concetta Boschett.”
My sigh is dramatic as I smile. “Sex with Cyan is…” I tap my lips, pretending to search for the right word. “Let’s just say his body size matches his package, and you heard my screams–so you know he knows how to use it.”
Tasha gasps, a knowing, wicked grin shaping her face. “Ari, girl… if I’d known this about Irish men, I’d have added a little Irish cream to my coffee years ago.” We dissolve into laughter, the kind that feels like home.
When we calm down, I exhale. “Tasha Diamond… you are right.”
She nods. “Thank you. There’s a glow around you now that your pipes are properly unclogged. I told you regular sex is healthy.”
“Really?” I glance at my reflection.
“Yes!” she gestures wildly. “You’re wearing your hair down. I’ve been telling you forever to let your curls breathe. It’s your crown. That severe bun was torture. Your scalp is writing you a thank-you card as we speak.”
“Hmm…” I consider it. Sure, part of this glow might be sex–but the warmth in my chest? That’s him. That’s Cyan.
“Tasha… you’re somewhat right.”
Her head snaps toward me. “Somewhat?”
“This isn’t just about sex. It’s the guy. It’s love.”
She quiets. That lands somewhere deep. My best friend and I are alike, both closed-off, independent, allergic to vulnerability. We don’t trust easily. We don’t love easily. She’s never told me much about her time in the foster system, and I’ve never pushed. Just like she’s never pushed about my parents. Trauma recognizes trauma. “Tasha,” I whisper.
“Hmm?”
“Thanks for storming the castle for me.” I swallow. “You know, if you’re ever in trouble, I’ll have your back. Guns blazing, bat swinging… whatever.”
“No thanks necessary.” She squeezes my wrist. “You’re my chosen family. Family shows up.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Love you too… I’m glad you’re home, Tash. Do you have plans today?”
“Nope. Raffiel forced me into a two-week break after the case I just won.” She makes a triumphant signal with her arm. “Let’s just say the bastard’s lucky he still has pants.”
I can’t help giggling. “I knew you would when he did that shit. During the declaration of his assets.”
“You know me so well, Ari. What’s the plan? And don’t you have work? Please tell me you didn’t quit to become a mob wife.”
“Hell no. You know I love my job. Cyan just told my bosses I’d be taking a few days off.”
“Oooh. Bet Simon’s grinding his molars to dust wanting you back at work.”
“I doubt it. Cyan choked him at the restaurant next to work for ogling my breasts.”
Tasha’s eyes light up like Christmas. “That beats my plan to slash his tires. I’m liking your Capo more and more.”
“At first it didn’t make me happy. But now? Simon doesn’t dump extra work on me, and I’m not half-dead by the time I get home.”
“I’ve been telling you to stand up for yourself!” She flicks my curls. “How’s your Nonna liking her new place?” Tasha asks, picking up where our conversation in the library left off.
“She loves it. She’s independent again. Twenty-four-hour support, her own home… she even goes shopping. I’m visiting her tomorrow. Come?”
“Absolutely.”
