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“You doing ok, Gingersnap?” He kisses my hand.

“I’m tired, but I think I’m fine.”

His hand is on my thigh, and I wrap my fingers around his. His face is all hard lines and distant memories. Places and people he’s lost taunting him and furrowing his brow. He’s sunk here before, just once. When we lost Manny—the man who guarded and protected my aunt and my cousin, Becca—Sal needed to be alone. He feels every cut artery and shot up gut. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be mine. But he usually pushes those feelings into action and hides me away from this part of him. I’ve seen it in flashes, but I need him to become the man he fears. The one he’s afraid to show me. I’ve got to let him know I’m not afraid of that man.

I squeeze his hand. “Salvatore.”

“You full-naming me?”

“Salvatore Luca Michael PapaPietro. I see you.”

“Oh, full-on naming me. Can you give me something, beautiful?” It’s a pause before the horror that’s going to descend on us soon.

“Anything.” I clutch his bicep and look up at him as he drives the winding streets along this gorgeous coastline.

“Let’s pretend.”

He finally glances down at me and I’m confused. “What?”

“It’s Tuesday. The café is closed,” he says.

“I sold the café,” I say matter-of-factly.

“You’re not so good at pretending.”

I smile, remembering the game we’ve played often. We imagine a time when we’re not where we are. “Go on.”

There’s pain in his voice and as much as I want to wipe it from the earth, I know he needs it. For him to kill a piece of his family, despite genetics, the kid was raised with the others. There are Christmas cards and inside jokes even though Sal claims the kid was always off. That he always distrusted him. I need the pain to become action for him.

He says, “Tuesday, my guy’s night gets canceled because Sam and your asshole cousin, David, forgot they coach the high school basketball team.” I laugh because that’s kind of dead on for them. “After I drop the kids off at school. Why not go to lunch before Ana’s school show?” My heart seizes. He wants to pretend the life we’ll never have. We used to have us walking hand in hand in the sun in some fabulous part of the world. Sometimes domestic cooking, but this is a path we won’t get. I can’t see it. I bite back the tears that burn my eyes. Ana was his mother’s name.

I clear the heartache from my voice like batting away cobwebs. “Well, we’ll have to cut out a little early. She’s only in the first part, and she’s only a tree. But I have to get to the Farmer’s Market to grab the good zucchini so that Frankie and Ana get the best one for the races.”

He laughs, “Freaking zucchini races. I know she’s only a damn tree, but I stayed up all night sewing and painting that damn thing.”

“Your mom would be proud of the needlework,” I say offhandedly. “After the zucchini races, my mom asked if we still need them for babysitting.”

“Them?” He acts confused and I forgot to tell him.

“Tina got herself a man. One she’s known for way too long. Adrian.”

“Wait, for real? Schroeder? Damn.” I shake my head. “Back to pretending. Stop messing with my moment.” He gives me the look that melts my panties and I pretend to swoon.

I say, “Sorry. Let them watch the kids tonight.”

“Good, I need to make you scream.” His lips tilt up in a half grin and there’s a dark glint in his eyes.

“I do not get why you won’t fuck me hard with the kids home.”

“I like a certain volume for hard fucking, and you hold back.”

I sit up, “I do not.”

“Do too. Last week, I was plowing you from behind and you bit a pillow. None of that shit on my watch. When you come, you shake the earth and I want the world to hear it. Capiche?”

“Capiche. Fine, I’ll shuttle them over there so you can plow me. But don’t forget this afternoon the lawn guy you hate is coming over.”

“Fuck that guy. I’ll mow it. Cancel him.”