38. Gianni

Chapter thirty-eight

Gianni

Saturday, April 12, 2025

P ickles and I head inside, arriving uncharacteristically early for our monthly guys’ night with my brothers and dad.

My mom wheels herself through the kitchen, a huge smile spread across her tan face. “You’re here early,” she says, eyeing me quizzically.

“Yep, figured I’d see if you needed anything around here,” I tell her.

“Mhmm, well, the girls should be here soon if you’d like to help me set the food up in the living room.”

“Sure thing, Mom,” I say as I bend to give her a hug and a kiss on either cheek. “New eyeshadow?”

“I’m working with a cosmetic chemist that Rose set me up with! It’ll be a part of my book club merch line, so I figured it was only fitting to try it out tonight.” She beams up at me, her sparkly silver lids shining under the kitchen lights .

“It looks very nice, Mom,” I say, smiling at her.

“Is that…” She trails off, her eyes beginning to glisten. “A smile?” She finally finishes, and it makes me realize just how long I’ve been depressed and how much it’s impacted my family.

Shame fills me, but before I can dwell on it, the door bursts open. Dante’s booming voice fills the foyer. “Hey, Mom,” he calls.

“I’ll grab the food.” I rush out.

***

“You’re here awfully early today,” Dante notes, his brow quirked at me.

“Just wanted to see if Mom needed help setting up.”

He hums before replying, “Right, and it wouldn’t have anything at all to do with the pretty redhead coming over tonight?”

“Nope, I like Arielle and all, but I’m not showing up early for her.” I know damn well he wasn’t talking about his wife.

He laughs. The sound is a deep boom that fills the living room. “Look at you being a smartass,” he says, smirking.

I ignore him, but a moment later, there’s a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” I say, heading to the door as quickly as I can. I hear Dante attempting to muffle his laughter behind me, but he’s literally a therapist. There’s not much I can hide from him.

Gripping the door handle and wrenching it open, I’m fucking elated when I see the group of women on the doorstep. One of which being Lark .

“Hey, come on in.” I wave them through the entryway but grab Lark’s forearm before she can walk through, pulling her out onto the porch and closing the door behind me.

“Hi.” She beams up at me. The setting sun makes the orange in her eyes appear even brighter.

“I missed you today,” I tell her, then second-guess myself. “I mean like I missed the class. I had a game today, not that you don’t already know that,” I add nervously, gripping the back of my neck.

She rolls her eyes at me and steps into my embrace, sliding her hands up my chest. “You can say you missed me and just leave it at that,” she tells me, her voice sounding breathless.

Nuzzling my face into her hair, I whisper, “I missed you, ma petite rouge .”

I can feel her hot breath dance across my neck, sending goosebumps erupting all over. “I missed you too, mon ciel étoilé .”

My brows pinch together in confusion. “My starry sky?” And she speaks French?

She gazes up at me, but just as she opens her mouth to answer, a car pulls up.