Chapter Twenty-Eight

Nora

Intent on not noticing Sebastian's dizzying proximity or his rough palm on my thigh, I set my sights on Enzo as I wait for his answer.

"We aren't talking." He swallows, his throat working. "She's staying at Gia's."

Alessia's brow furrows. "For good?"

He loops a finger through his gold chain as he leans back in his seat. "I don't know. I hope not."

My lips tip into a frown. "I'm sorry. That's hard. What happened after Rosalina walked out of brunch?"

He lets out a balloon-deflating noise. "Man, where to even begin."

Sebastian takes the liquor bottle that Enzo has been manning all night, pours a shot, and slides it toward Enzo. "We've got time."

Alessia slowly deals another hand as Sebastian's thumb absently strokes my leg. I want to take his hand in mine, but there's the small issue of me having no idea what's going on between us and wondering if this whole night is a figment of my tipsy imagination.

Enzo's fingers drum the table. "I found her right after brunch. She said I need to try harder to get my family to like her, because she doesn't want to spend the next however many years feeling like the bane of her in-laws' existence. And I said she needs to try harder with my family too, then." He shrugs. "She left with Gia. Then I went and packed my stuff and drove our car back alone."

Alessia grimaces. "Yikes."

Sebastian's grandmother reenters the room. "What did I miss?"

"Just wedding chatter," Sebastian says, stealing the blender so she can sit down. "Relax, I've got this. You've done enough."

"These old arms can still pour."

"I have no doubt. Now let your freeloading grandson handle it, please." He shoots her a wink.

She guffaws. "Freeloader my tuchus. You pay more of my mortgage than I do."

My stomach does a cartwheel off a cliff. I was today years old when I discovered how unbearably hot it is when men dote on their grandmothers.

I force my attention back to Enzo. "I'm hearing you both wish the other person would try harder with your respective families."

"Rosalina tried to be friends with me, if that helps," Alessia offers. "She was friendly at the bachelorette party and always tried to make me feel welcome at the wedding. Did you try with Benji, Z?"

"I thought Benji and I were cool," Enzo replies. His forehead creases in consideration. "I kept his secret, didn't I?"

"You did keep all the secrets." I say. "And we appreciate you so much for that. Benji is just a tough guy to get close to. But he likes you, and that's more than he can say about most people."

"I like the guy, too. But according to Rosalina, I haven't tried hard enough with her family, so I'm at a loss."

"It's probably her parents she wants you to make an effort with," Alessia says with a shrug. "Not everyone has issues with their dad like we do. She'll want them to approve of you."

His sigh is mighty. "You'd think having a good job and taking care of their daughter would be enough to earn this mythical ‘approval.' I am not optimistic when it comes to them. But it'd be great if our relationship was enough for her. It used to be, before we told people about us. Oh well. Life's a bitch and then you die, you know?" He peeks at his dealt hand and leaves the cards facedown on the table, expression neutral. "This has been a good night, though. A nice distraction. We should do this again sometime."

"You're welcome here every Friday," Sebastian reminds him. "This isn't a one-time deal."

Alessia nods. "Yeah, Sebastian'll be gone soon, but Nella and the rest of us will still play. Nora, you'll keep coming too, right?" She looks at Enzo, then me.

Sebastian's hand squeezes my thigh under the table. Maybe it's meant to be reassuring, or even friendly, but the contact shoots up and settles between my legs.

"You should," he says firmly. His hand drifts just high enough to make my breath catch. "They get wild sometimes. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Alessia snorts. "Don't worry about what we do when you're not around, Rossi."

Not around.

I can't help but think how different it will feel without him here. The muscles around my heart pull tight, imagining his empty seat. But I force my gaze off him and smile at Alessia. "I would love that. Count me in."

Alessia's mouth quirks up as she examines her cards. "And, since we now know Enzo has a good hand—or else he wouldn't have asked to play again—I suggest keeping your bets light, everyone."

Enzo chuckles under his breath. "You little shit."

At the end of the hand, Eloise puts her forehead on the table. "I'm crashing hard."

Alessia strokes her back and squints at her phone with one eye. "I'm going to get us an Uber."

The rest of the table continues chatting as Sebastian stands. His forearms flex as he gathers a few glasses. I pick up my own and follow him across the kitchen. This side overlooks the cozy living room.

He sets his down in the sink. "You aren't driving either." The pitch of his voice is no-nonsense and leaves no room for arguing. "At least until you sober up."

"No, sir. Or maybe yes, sir. Whichever one means I'm not driving yet." I take the rubber stopper off the back of the sink, plug the drain, and turn on the water. Two squirts of lemon-scented dish soap has the basin frothing in no time. I stack all the dirty plates in the soapy water.

Sebastian turns off the water. "What are you doing?"

I turn it back on. "My taxes."

"You aren't washing my dishes."

"I need to kill time while I sober up, don't I?"

And I need to feel useful and do something with my hands that doesn't involve Sebastian's body.

"I'll load the dishwasher."

I scoff. "The dishwasher ? These plates are too nice for that! They're fancy-pants plates."

"Hardly. They're a hundred years old."

"Nora's right." Nella passes us as she shuffles through the kitchen toward the connected living room. "They're over one hundred five years old, from my mother's collection."

I beam at having correctly ceramic-dated the old plates. "Exactly. Which means they need TLC."

Sebastian squints at me, impossibly cute with his face screwed up like that. "TLC?"

"Tender loving care." I nudge him with my hip. "I'm a guest. Let me help."

"I'm not leaving you alone with this chore even for a second." He forces me to switch places with him with two rough hands on my hips. The memory of those same hands digging into my ass as he lifted me off a mattress hits me like a freight train. "If you insist on helping, you can rinse and stack. I'm doing the dirty work."

I dry swallow, still entangled in my thoughts. "Okay."

"Our Uber is here. We're going," Alessia calls over her shoulder as she passes. "I'd offer to help, but I think I'd break a plate in my condition."

"She breaks plates even when she's sober," Eloise stage-whispers.

"Thanks for dragging me off my couch, Rossi," Enzo lifts a hand."Later, Nora."

Sebastian and I wave as they disappear into the hall. As soon as the door clicks shut, I elbow him. "That went well! We're getting puzzle pieces. Enzo and Ro are both hung up on this ‘making an effort with the parents' thing. That's good intel."

He lets out a hmm . "But we already knew it had a lot to do with their families. What do we do with that information?"

"I don't know." My optimism flounders quickly. "We still need Ro's perspective. Women always provide way more details. I want to make sure we aren't missing something."

"You kids overcomplicate things," Nella says through a yawn as she reclines farther in her chair. "Get Enzo and the girl alone in a room and see what shakes out. They just need to remember why they fell in love and the rest of the noise will fall away."

Sebastian and I exchange a look.

"Honestly, that's not a bad idea," he says.

I set to work on my next plate. "We can lock them in a closet House Arrest style until they work it out."

"House arrest like they committed a crime?"

" House Arrest like that Jamie Lee Curtis movie where the kids lock their soon-to-be-divorced parents in a basement with a few of their classmates' fighting parents and tell them they can't come out until they cancel their divorce. They install a metal door and everything. It's a favorite of mine."

"You have alarming taste." He rolls his shoulders back and stretches his neck side to side. What we're doing is so mundane, yet it's a first for me. I've never done a chore with a guy before.

He has a very methodical approach to each dish, and I find myself distracted by his hands and veiny forearms more than once.

After a few minutes, he elbows me and nods straight ahead.

Nella's eyelids are drifting shut.

I slow down my movements, more careful and gentle as I place the next plate in the drying rack. He turns the water lower.

"Roommates, am I right?"he murmurs. "Do you have any?"

"Nah. I live alone. For the first time ever, actually. It's been nice having my own space, figuring out what I like and don't like, finding my own routine. I finally feel totally happy with my situation."

"That's great. I guess I just expected someone like you"—he gestures a hand at me, flinging water droplets in the air—"who loves book clubs and exercise classes filled with people would prefer having a roommate around."

I fling a few drops his way in retaliation. "I'd only live with the right person. Alessia, Eloise, Nella, Enzo…you have all these awesome, trustworthy people in your lives. I've always wanted that. Alas, I've only ever lived with Craigslist matches who steal my stuff or fling open the bathroom door when I'm taking showers, pretending they couldn't hear the water running."

He looks at me a beat too long. "Wow. I hate that."

"'Tis in the past. Like I said: I'm good where I am and don't plan to change it by adding any randos to the mix. Anyway"—I lower my voice further as my gaze bounces back to the living room—"We know you don't live alone. How's that been for you, Seb?"

His shoulders lift. "Fine. Fun, to be honest. I live alone everywhere else I go."

I hip bump him. "Hasn't cramped your style at all?"

"Nope."

Curiosity rears its ugly head. "So, I guess when you go on dates—"

"Nora."

"It's fine. I don't imagine you're some kind of hermit."

"I'm not dating other women. And I have not dated in Great River," he says firmly. "Not at all in the last year."

My pulse thrums. "I see. I just assumed—"

"Stop assuming anything before I spray you with the faucet."

I throw him my best side-eye. "What am I, a cat on the counter?"

He hovers his hand near the spray nozzle. "I will soak you."

"Not in your grandmother's house you won't."

"You're right. I won't do anything to you in my grandmother's house." He tugs it out of its holder. "I'll only think long and hard about it."

The air between us changes on a dime as my skin flushes hot.

I run my hand under the faucet and get it good and wet before smearing it down his arm.

Like a silent assassin, he aims the sprayer at me.

"Don't you dare," I whisper with venom.

"If you run away, it'll spray Nella's floor." He's beautiful and menacing as he aims it lower. "Do you want to make a mess of her house?"

I lift my chin. "You won't."

His eyes are dangerous as he presses the button once. A small blast hits beneath my collarbone and drips down to soak the top of my dress.

I narrow my eyes as his body shakes from containing his laughter. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he watches me tear a paper towel off the roll and blot my chest.

So he likes games, does he?

Batting my lashes, I trail my fingers inside the neckline of my dress as I step up to whisper in his ear. "You don't need a sink to get me wet, Sebastian."

The playfulness falls off his face in an almost audible whoosh . He fumbles the sprayer back into the sink, his heavy gaze glued to me. "What did you say?"

"You heard me."

His gaze rakes over me. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?"

"Men are so easy." Feigning coolness I don't really feel, I dry my hands on his shirt. "How about a tour of your hallway of fame?"

He gapes at me for a few seconds, looks back at the sink, and then toward the hallway. "I— Is that really necessary?"

I pretend to think this over. "Yeah. It is."

"Fine. Give me a second."

I stand by, hugging my chest as he moves into the living room. He removes a blanket from inside the brown wicker trunk that serves as a coffee table and gently drapes it over his grandmother, taking care to cover her feet.

Then he stretches his arms overhead as he approaches, exposing a sliver of torso.

The urge to swoon is strong. Watching Sebastian Rossi on his home turf is like experiencing Disney magic, first day of school jitters, and the moment before a first kiss all at once.

He returns to me with a lopsided grin. "Yeah, she's out like a light. Let's get this picture thing over with."

I wave for him to lead the way.

The hallway floor creaks underfoot as he moves into the hall and flips a switch. The small old chandelier casts warm light over the space.

There are so many photos in dusty frames I don't know where to feast my eyes first.

Our shadows paint the walls and floor as we move. "Give me the lay of the land. Are they chronologically organized?"

He keeps his voice low to match mine. "Somewhat."

I home in on a gangly but still cute version of the man in front of me posing next to a Ford Bronco. I'd put him at middle-school age, maybe thirteen.

He tries to stand between me and the wall. I force him sideways with brute force, gratuitously gripping his biceps in the process.

"You had braces," I note, tipping my head up to see another photo higher on the wall. "For quite a few years, it looks like."

"C'mon, Nor." He crosses his arms as his dimples make an appearance. "You think this smile was free?"

"Can you move along to high school, at least?" he requests, pointing down the hall. "I was way hotter then."

"And miss out on you as a tween? Nah." I point at a whitewashed wooden frame. "Is this some kind of homecoming dance, and if so, why are you in shorts ?"

"I thought I was cool, and you weren't around to humble me."

I bite my lip to trap my laugh. "But Alessia tried to, right?"

"She did. I just didn't listen."

It strikes me that of all the things that make this house feel cozy and homey, this permanent picture wall that serves as a family shrine is my favorite. We never went through the trouble of hanging photos anywhere we lived, because there was no point. I visualize Nella adding photos over the years, the scene playing out like a stop-motion animation in my brain.

He leans against the wall to steal my attention and swipes his thumb down my cheek. A shudder rolls through me. If it's meant to serve as a distraction, it's working. "Did you ever have braces?"

I momentarily lose my words at his cashmere-soft touch. "I did. I went through quite a few orthodontists too, because it coincided with Mom dating a musician who was chasing his big break. Bob Dylan he was not ."

His hand falls away. "You didn't like the guy?"

"Eh, he was fine compared to some of the others. Now show me prom."

He guides me down the hallway with a hand dangerously low on my back. He stops in front of a photo of him, Alessia, Enzo, and their assorted friends or dates.

"Damn it all," I mumble.

"What's wrong?" He shifts behind me, banding a hand across my stomach. I fall against him as if falling into his orbit.

What's wrong is he was so damn cute, even then. He probably knew it, too. I would've been stuck on him like a flagpole in winter. There would have been journals with his name etched inside, because yeah, I actually did that.

I let out an embarrassing sharp breath as he nuzzles my hair. "You were, um…so unfortunate looking."

He lets out a dark laugh and turns me around. His hand slips lower over the swell of my ass. "Be nice. I already know I wouldn't have had a shot with you."

His touch turns me hot and sloppy. "Sebastian, please. You were a god among mortals then and now. You wouldn't have known my name. I was a nerd before nerds were celebrated."

His tone is gently scolding as he swats me. I blush as I imagine how it'd feel against my bare skin. "Hardly. I would've asked you to tutor me and done everything in my power to make you think I was smart."

The words catch me off guard. I turn around and search his eyes, finding a shyness so unlike him. "I would've known that after spending any amount of time with you."

His gaze dips lower and my heart takes off in a nervous canter. But he doesn't lean in.

I move on to a picture of him with what must be his parents. He looks just like his father with the same thick, almost luscious wave to his hair and blessed bone structure. "Is this the famed Mom and Dad?"

"Yes. Nadine and Carlo."

"The doctors Rossi," I muse. "I don't know how to tell you this, but your dad is—

"Don't say it." He groans. "Don't even think it."

"Hot as heck." My mischievous gaze meets his. "I'm sorry, I had to confess it to you or I couldn't go on. And Nadine is even hotter. Wowza, this gene pool explains a lot."

"Sorry, Enzo and Alessia both laid claim to my mother a long time ago. They both plan to make their move, should anything happen to my dad, and see who wins, which is very morbid if you think about it."

"Your dad must feel left out, then. Can I lay a claim—"

"Nope." He crowds me against the wall. A frame rattles behind my back. "Not happening."

Hot blood courses through my veins as his blazing eyes hold mine. My voice sounds breathless. "Why not?"

"You know why." His hands find my ass again like they're magnetized. He squeezes as if that answers the question. The sting of his fingertips is too much and not enough.

After more than two weeks of not talking about anything that happened between us, I'm going a little bit out of my mind. I would love to hear him say something to the effect of because we were real so I can stop wondering if the Adirondacks were a fever dream.

Or he could kiss me. Actions speak louder than words.

But he doesn't. Neither of us moves until it feels almost like a standoff. If one of us doesn't do something, I'm going to need a pillow to scream into.

So I smile, the portrait of innocence. "How about a tour of your room?"