“Auntie!” Henri shouts, crashing into me from behind. “Mom wants you.”
I take the phone. “Hey.”
“So Jeff and I are going to stay here tonight.”
I know what she’s waiting for me to say. “No problem. I can stay with Henri as long as you need me to.”
“You? Or both of you?”
“I don’t know, Mallory.” I try to hide my irritation. I know why she’s worried, but he doesn’t know and I’m not going to tell him.
“I would prefer it was just you.” Her voice is tight.
“I know.”
“As long as we’re clear.”
“Just take care of Max and don’t worry about Henri, okay?”
There’s a pause. “Okay,” she finally says.
I disconnect as Alessandro drains the macaroni. “Do you need help?”
He hands me the colander. “Shake this out and dump it into the pot,” he says, gesturing at the stove.
I do as I’m told and stir the macaroni into the cheese sauce as he moves to the fridge and pulls out some salad stuff. A few minutes later, dinner is on the table.
Henri excitedly tells Alessandro about all of his favorite Lego sets and what happened when he built the front of his pirate ship out of the middle of the Star Wars Death Star.
“I had the Death Star set,” Alessandro says, smiling at Henri.
“Geek,” I mutter, and Alessandro raises an eyebrow at me, but then out of nowhere, a piece of breadstick ricochets off his cheek. We both look at Henri, who giggles and flicks another hunk of bread at Alessandro.
Alessandro tips his head at Henri and holds up his fingers as goalposts. “How accurate are you with that finger?” he challenges.
Henri grins and tears off another bit of breadstick, taking aim at Alessandro’s goalposts. He only scores on one of his five shots, but the others don’t miss by much.
“My turn,” Alessandro says, pinching off a hunk of his breadstick.
Henri makes goalposts and Alessandro’s shot misses Henri’s goal wildly.
Henri rolls his eyes. “Nobody’s that bad. Show me what you got. I’m not a sore loser, you know.”
Alessandro grins at him. “Remember you said that, little man.” He scores on three of his next four shots, then makes a roar-of-the-crowd sound, raising his arms.
I crack up. This is a side of Alessandro I’m not sure I’ve ever seen. “Competitive much?” I mutter, and Henri giggles.
“It’s a guy thing,” Alessandro says with a wink at Henri.
“Are you going to marry Auntie Hilary?” Henri asks out of nowhere, and I freeze.
Alessandro’s gaze flicks to me before he answers. “No, Henri. Your aunt and I are just old friends.”
Henri slides out of his seat and jumps into my lap. “When school starts, we’re going on a science field trip where there’s a bird-eating tarantula!”
“Wow!” I say, pulling him closer, thankful that he’s on to another train of thought so fast. “What is it with you guys and tarantulas?”
He hops out of my lap and leans both hands on Alessandro’s knees, proceeding to tell him all about Jeremy Timmons’ tarantula, and how it ate a whole cricket, guts and all. A wet, pulsing lump forms in my throat and I can’t watch them together. I stand and scoop dishes up, carrying them to the counter. When I turn back from the sink, Henri is perched on Alessandro’s knee, telling him how Rufus once killed a squirrel in the backyard.
I ruffle his hair. “Time for your bath, buddy.”
He clambers off Alessandro, and Alessandro cleans up while I stick Henri in the tub and shuttle him off to bed.
“What are you going to read me tonight?” I ask, climbing into bed next to him.
He holds up a thin hardcover book. “Loki’s Revenge.”
“Excellent,” I say. “Loki’s my favorite.”
He settles in and opens his book just as Alessandro appears at the door, his sleeves rolled up, leaning a shoulder into the door frame. As Henri reads, I have to keep swallowing the lump in my throat. Alessandro and Henri connected tonight. They know each other. I never thought that would happen. And Henri really likes him. When he looks up and sees Alessandro in the doorway, he grins and pulls on my arm. “Make room for Alessandro, Auntie.”
I slide up and curl around Henri, and Alessandro comes in and sits at the foot of the bed, leaning sideways on one elbow. He grabs Henri’s toes through the blanket and jiggles them, and Henri kicks and squeals.
I nudge Alessandro’s shoulder with my foot and give him a look. “Bedtime. We’re supposed to be winding down here.”
“Sorry,” he says to me, but then gives Henri a conspiratorial wink and Henri giggles again.
“Read, buddy,” I tell Henri, and he picks his book up from where he dropped it in the sheets.
“When Thor de . . . f . . .”
“Remember that the A makes the E say its name,” I prompt as I point to the word he’s stuck on.
“When Thor defeated Loki, Loki swore he would make Thor pay.” Henri looks up at me and grins, then looks back at the page and reads to us all about how Loki gets back at Thor. When he’s done, I give him a big hug and kiss, then haul myself off his bed. Alessandro stands and ruffles Henri’s hair and I turn out the light. “ ’Night buddy,” I say from the door.
“Good night, Auntie. Good night, Alessandro.” He snuggles down into his pillow and closes his eyes. I watch him for a minute, feeling the heat of Alessandro’s body just behind me, then pull his door closed.
“He’s a great kid,” Alessandro says as we move back to the family room. He picks up a picture of Mallory’s family from the end table. “This is his father?” he asks, tapping Jeff’s face.
That sharp something twists in my gut again. “Jeff.”
He inspects the photograph for a minute longer, a V forming in the creases between his eyebrows, then sets it down without another word. I click on the TV, and settle into the couch, hoping the subject of Henri’s parentage is closed.
Alessandro settles in next to me and loops an arm over my shoulders. “Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah. Just worried about Max.” It isn’t a lie. It’s just not the whole truth either.
“It’s been a difficult day,” he says, and I know he’s not just referring to Max.
Through all of this, the image of him beating the shit out of Eric has still surfaced in my mind repeatedly. The details of that day are still fuzzy, but I remember Eric handing me a Coke as we sat in the rec room watching TV. I remember the TV blurring and the room starting to spin. The next thing I remember is Alessandro’s bloody fist.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, Hilary,” he breathes into my hair.
I don’t know if he’s apologizing for what happened with Eric, or for leaving me, or what, but whatever it is, I can tell by the aching sadness in his voice and in his eyes as I lift mine to look at him, that he means it. “Me too.”
The electricity that’s always in his touch causes me to shudder. He leans in, very slowly, watching me the whole way. I close the last inch and press my lips to his. His kiss is tentative at first, but the longer it goes, the more insistent it becomes, until his tongue slashes through my lips and takes possession of me.
I press him back into the cushions and straddle him, then start on the buttons of his shirt, suddenly needing to see him—to feel his skin on mine. I kiss him hard and deep as I peel back his shirt.
“Hilary,” he breathes when we take a second for air, and I hear the tortured longing in that one word. It sends desire pulsing with my blood, and I smother anything else he wanted to say with another kiss.
In a back corner of my mind, there’s a voice that’s telling me to stop, but it’s drowned out by the rush of blood in my ears. My senses spin as I’m thrown between worlds. I feel everything that’s happening now, the desperation of Alessandro’s kiss; his persistent hands, no longer tentative, but sure and firm on my body; the taste of his mouth and his spicy scent enveloping me; the taut cut of his abs as I glide my fingers over his perfection. But I also feel what I was feeling then: that certainty my heart was going to explode at his gentle touch; the way he kissed me so tenderly on the lips, his tongue caressing mine, exploring, like he wanted to know every inch of me; the way he made me feel things that no one else ever had.