Page 143 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

I laugh, and she turns to Michael.

“You don’t come see me for weeks?” she says, smacking his arm.

“Zia,” he says, half smiling, “work has kept me busy.”

“That work of yours,” she says, shaking her head. “Always taking you away.”

“No work talk,” he says. “Let’s go see everyone. Va bene?”

She huffs, but pulls him into a hug. “Va bene.”

We pass people as we walk through the house, and I don’t think I go more than two steps without hearing, “Mikey.”

He keeps moving with nods, quick hellos, and touching people as we pass. Meanwhile, I’m trying to keep up. People smile at me. Some wave. A couple of them say my name to which I just smile back.

We step into the backyard, and I pause. There are so many people. Kids are running through the space, yelling and laughing. Adults stand grouped together, talking loud with drinks in their hands. The pool is full, people sitting along the edge, others standing around it, all of them mid-conversation.

Tables are set up across the yard, covered in food, plates stacked, napkins everywhere, someone already reaching for something else. Voices overlap. Names get called out. People are moving in every direction.

“Katie! You’re here!”

Finally, I hear a voice I recognize.

“Thank God,” I mutter.

Sarah moves straight through the crowd toward me. People shift out of her way as she goes. She’s wearing the cutest red sundress with little flowers on it, and she’s dragging Luca behind her by the hand. She pulls me into a hug, and I don’t hesitate.

“I thought you two were never going to show up,” she says and looks at Michael. “Hey.”

“Sarah,” he says.

“Sarah,” I echo, mocking him.

He runs his tongue over his upper teeth. “You’re such a smartass.”

“But a really cute one, right?”

He shakes his head not even trying to hide it.

Sarah takes my hand. “I’m stealing her. We’re getting food. You can survive without her for ten minutes.”

Michael’s jaw flexes, but he nods. Sarah loops her arm through mine as we walk away.

“Why is your boyfriend always so intense?”

“He’s not,” I tell her. “and if it weren’t for Michael, you wouldn’t have even met Luca.”

“True, but Luca’s not like Michael,” she says, as we continue through the backyard.

“What does that even mean?”

She shrugs. “Luca’s kind, and funny, and gentle.”

“Um, Michael is all of those things too.”

She gives me a look that says, who are you trying to kid?

“I’m not joking. He’s funny and thoughtful. And he likes taking care of me.”