twenty-two

Dante

I comb through the same file I’ve been going over off and on for a week. I’m not any closer to easing the nagging feeling in the pit of my gut.

I open a different manila folder and pick up the photograph of Kyndal Montgomery. Platinum-blonde hair, deep-red lips, and tits as fake as her spray-on tan. On the surface, Kyndal is the stuff of teenage wet dreams. Beneath the shiny veneer is the soul of a woman I’m certain Satan spawned. She’s the daughter of Clive Montgomery, who just happens to be a client of Salinger and Salinger. And Trevor’s fucking mistress—at least, she was.

A knock sounds on the door.

Shit. I didn’t realize how late it was.

“I’ll be right there,” I quickly call out, shoving the loose papers and photograph into the manila folder before I answer the door.

Bags hang heavily from Tessa’s arms. I take them from her and step back, so she can come inside.

“Sorry about that. I’m trying to get caught up on work.”

“It’s okay,” she says. Making herself at home, she heads for the kitchen.

I watch the sway of her hips as I fall in step behind her. My eyes never stray from her perfect ass.

“Did you invite anyone else?”

There’s enough food to feed a small village. I set the bags on the counter and look at her.

Tessa laughs at my question. “Yesterday, when I told my mom I was coming here for dinner, she wanted to know what we were having. I told her I was going to pick up something. She insisted that wouldn’t do, so we went to the store this morning and spent the whole day in the kitchen together.”

“It smells amazing, but you didn’t need to do this. We could’ve eaten takeout.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve spent all day in the kitchen with my mom. It was nice. Besides, I’m sure you could use a home-cooked meal.” Steam rises from the still-warm containers as she starts taking the lids off. “Put this one in the fridge. It’s dessert.”

I take it from her, open the fridge, and slide it in. “Do you want something to drink?” I offer, grabbing a beer for myself.

“I brought wine.” She smiles, holding up a bottle. “Open it?”

“Sure.” It takes a minute of digging through drawers to locate a corkscrew.

We work in silence as Tessa plates lasagna, salad, and bread, and I pour her wine. I open the back door and carry our drinks out to the patio table before coming back inside to grab napkins and help her with the food.

Once we’re seated, I take a bite of lasagna and try not to moan. “Damn, woman. This is amazing.”

“Thanks,” she says, taking a small bite of her own food. “I haven’t made lasagna in a while. It always sounds good, and then I remember how labor-intensive it is.” She laughs.

“That’s what my mom always said.”

“How is she?” Tessa asks.

I realize it’s been quite a while since we’ve talked.

“Last I heard, she was living it up in Florida.”

My mom, Katerina, was young when she fell in love with Grant Salinger. She did the best she could, raising me on her own. Grant would send a check every month, but it wouldn’t go far, and my mother had her pride. When I left for college, she saw it as her chance to have the life she’d missed out on while raising me. We talk every few months but haven’t visited each other in a couple years.

Wanting to change the subject, I ask, “Have you given any thought to going back to Chicago?” I’m not sure she thinks of it as home anymore.

“Soon.” She sips her wine and then looks at me.

My fork halts halfway to my mouth. “How soon is soon?” I’ll need to contact the realtor handling the rental.

“Probably sometime in the next week.” She wipes her mouth with the napkin. “I can’t keep living in limbo. It’s impossible to move forward until I face what I left behind.”

“Tessa, there isn’t a time limit. You don’t have to do anything before you’re ready.” I put the food in my mouth.

“I can’t keep burying my head in the sand. No matter how much I don’t want to face it, life does in fact move on.” She quietly says the last part.

“Do you have a plan?”

“I need to clean out the condo. Figure out what to do with all of Trevor’s things.” She stares off into the distance, lost in her own thoughts.

“Do you want some help?” My question pulls her back to the present.

She looks at me. “Can I let you know? It’s just…part of me feels like I need to handle it on my own.”

“Whatever you need.”

“Okay,” she breathes the word out, almost sighing in relief.

“Okay,” I agree.

We finish our food, enjoying the quiet and each other’s company.

After dinner, we carry everything inside, and Tessa puts the lids back on the containers before carrying them to the counter next to the fridge. Before she can open the door, I walk up behind her and reach into the cabinet over her head, taking out two coffee cups. For a brief second, my chest brushes against her back.

I set the cups on the counter and step away, so she can put the food up. Her cheeks flush when she turns around.

We’re standing inches apart. There’s the smallest trace of sauce on the corner of her mouth. I run the pad of my thumb over the place where her lips meet. Then, I lift that same thumb to my own mouth and suck the sauce from the tip. She releases a gasp.

She closely watches me, her eyes locked on my lips. I grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger, tilting her face upward. She’s got this look in her eyes, begging me to kiss her but pleading with me not to at the same time. I lean in a little closer, forcing her into the counter, as my other hand snakes around the side of her neck. Her pulse quickens beneath my touch. She doesn’t pull away. Sliding my palms to cup her cheeks, I bend down and softly brush my lips against hers. Then, I pull back.

“What do you want, Tessa?” I ask, giving her time to find the answer.

“Kiss me,” she whispers.

I brush my mouth over hers again and break away. “Like that?”

“More.”

My hand moves to the back of her head, angling her exactly how I want her, while my other arm goes around her back, pressing her into me. My mouth drops to hers, and I nip her bottom lip before slipping inside. A small gasp comes from her as my tongue sweeps over hers. She’s the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted. Her arms wrap around my neck, fingers tugging at the ends of my hair, dragging me closer.

Fuck me. I knew this is how it would be with her.

My hands glide down to her ass, lifting her onto the countertop, never breaking the kiss. I kiss her long and deep, unleashing years of want and need, until I’m certain her lips are swollen and bruised. Until the need for oxygen becomes too great, and we have no choice but to come up for air.

I press my forehead to hers. We’re both panting hard; breathing the same air. She draws back, putting space between our bodies.

“Tess—”

She holds up a finger. “I need a minute.”

“Okay.” I step back and run a hand through my hair, gripping at the roots. “Okay.”

She climbs off the counter. Her strides are quick, like she can’t get away fast enough. She goes into the guest bathroom, shuts the door behind her, and clicks the lock into place.