Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
And smell Renzo on me the entire trip out? I’d rather be cold.
But Elian wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so I slipped my arms in, surprised by the weight of it as it settled on my shoulders.
“It’s huge,” I said, seeing my hands disappear in the sleeves. “Do I look ridiculous?”
“Kind of,” Elian admitted, making us both laugh. “But you’ll be warm,” he added.
“Thanks,” I said, following him out the door. “Twenty minutes. And then you’re going to have the happiest tastebuds ever,” I promised him.
“Looking forward to it,” he agreed as I walked to the elevator.
It was every bit as cold outside as I thought, despite the sun casting off of the windows. The hot dog cart on the corner kept puffing steam into the air and the woman who passed by me, chatting with someone on a video call was trailing her breath behind her.
Fall had taken a sharp right turn toward winter, and I felt an ache in my core, knowing the holidays would be right around the corner.
Thanksgiving not sitting at one of my aunts’ tables.
Christmas without my brothers’ big forms swallowing up all the space on the couches, making me sit crosslegged on the floor like a little girl in front of the tree as our father passed out gifts.
Would there even be a Thanksgiving with the Lombardi family?
Aside from Cinna, I had yet to meet a Lombardi woman. And she certainly wasn’t the type to stand in the kitchen from dawn until dinnertime where she would fill the table with food and sit with her loved ones to say grace and share a meal.
But maybe there were other Lombardi women who were more like the Costa women.
Or, maybe, that was now my place, I thought as I walked down the street.
I mean, I was—as crazy as it felt, given my age—now the Lombardi matriarch. And wasn’t it my place to plan a dinner, to shop for it, to invite people, to make the meal, and serve it to the family?
By the time I closed in on the coffee shop, I already had a menu in my mind.
A turkey, of course.
Creamy mashed potatoes. Green bean casserole. Sweet potatoes, with or without the marshmallows. Broccoli. Salad. Rolls. Maybe a couple trays of baked ziti. We were Italian, after all.
Pumpkin and apple pies for dessert went without saying.
I had it all planned out by the time I finally got through the long line and made it to the counter, ordering two large mocha frappes with whipped cream and extra drizzle.
I wondered if I could ask Elian about Thanksgiving, or if this was something I should talk to Renzo about first.
If I ever saw him.
No.
No, damnit.
I wasn’t going to let those thoughts win. Not when I finally found something to be excited about, something to focus my restless energy on.
And after Thanksgiving, I could decorate for Christmas. Buy gifts for my old family. And my new one. And maybe plan another meal for everyone to attend. Or, at least, a little Christmas party with hors d'oeuvre and drinks. That seemed right up this family’s alley.
My shoulders were looser and my soul lighter as I stepped out of the coffee shop with the frozen coffees in my hand.
I was already imagining going home to hop online and start looking up Thanksgiving table scapes.
It was right then, like fate shining down on me, telling me I was on the right path, when I saw a familiar frame just a few doors down.
There were a few of his men in front of him, disappearing into a building, bodies tense.
But I barely even noticed them.
I was laser focused on Renzo, on the way this felt so serendipitous.
“Renzo!” I called, rushing down the street before I could lose him. “Renzo!” I called again, watching him turn toward the sound of my voice.
I was too wrapped up in my own excitement right then, shooting him a big smile, to pay attention to his reaction to me.
“Hey!” I said, getting closer. “This is so funny. I was just thinking that I needed to talk to you about something,” I said as I finally stood in front of him.
A loud crash came from inside the building Renzo was standing in the doorway of, making Renzo tense.
“Not now,” he said, his voice firm.
But I was too wrapped up in my excitement for the future to pay attention.
“It will just take a min—“ I started as another clamor came from inside.
“I said not now,” Renzo barked, voice harder than I’d ever heard it. “Go home,” he snapped, then turned and disappeared into the building.
Leaving me standing on the sidewalk.
Scolded like a child.
He’d never used a tone of voice like that with me.
It was like a slap in the face.
No.
No, it was worse than that.
It was like he’d blown out the light inside of me.