Michaela knew she needed to get up to go to Sunday dinner at her mother’s house, but she just couldn’t make herself do it. Like the last two weekends, she’d begged off because she knew it would upset her mother to see her red-rimmed eyes, swollen nose, and listless body. 

She didn’t need a repeat of the first weekend she was home, when all her brothers threatened to go to kick Grayson’s ass after Dante filled them in on what happened.  Her daddy even threatened to join the Girabaldi express going to Texas. 

Mickie just wanted peace and she knew if she went home, it would just stir up the family again.  It was better if she stayed at her apartment until she got past this.  Tito perked up in her lap, and she stroked between his ears as she flipped the channels on the TV. 

The I Love Lucy marathon was on today, which always made her feel closer to her Nonna because it was her favorite show.  She hoped eventually she could laugh at it again.  It was her test to see if she was better.  So far, the answer was a definite no—and she had the trashcan full of wadded-up Kleenex to prove it.

Dio, would she ever run out of water for her tears? 

Mickie was not a crier, she was a fighter, so this was a totally foreign thing to her.  In the rare instance she did cry, everyone knew to run.  But these tears were different, hotter and more painful, because they came from deeper inside her body.

Grayson Jennings had done more than break her heart.  He had insulted her to the deepest part of her being and crushed her soul.  Hot tears burned her eyes and the image on the television screen blurred. Mickie angrily snatched a tissue from the box on the side table and cursed him as she blew her raw nose.  Testa di cazzo.

He’d even taken her joy from cooking.  She’d tried to find comfort in it, but it only made things worse, so she’d she’d resorted to a diet of frozen dinners and HoHos for dessert…and breakfast…and snacks.  The imprint of her ass on the sofa, which had also served as her bed for the last month, was growing bigger by the day.

She had to get over him.  Her rent was coming due, her bank account was empty and she didn’t have a job.  The last thing she needed was to have to move in with her family again.

Tomorrow she would feel better and would buy a newspaper. Today, she was going to eat her weight in HoHos and watch television. 

Tito whined and put his paws on her chest to lick her chin, and Mickie looked down at him and sighed.  “You are the only man I need in my life, aren’t you, piccolina?” she cooed, hugging him as her eyes burned again.

She released Tito and he tensed, which made her tense. His ears perked up and fear shot through Mickie. The fear that one of Lazarro’s henchmen would appear at her door would not leave her, so she’d asked her family to call before they came over. 

He was in jail, but he had minions all over New Jersey who were not. Taking a hit out on her because she was going to testify against him would be too easy for the bastard.  She was a woman living alone with no weapon to her name, other than her purse. 

Maybe she should move in with her mother—at least then she’d have five men to protect her.  Her brothers tried to convince her to do that, but she refused.  They thought she didn’t notice their cars in the parking lot, or realize they were taking shifts watching her apartment, but she did. That’s one of the reasons she refused.

The knock finally came, which made her feel slightly less afraid.  A hitman wouldn’t knock would he?  But there was still no way she was going to open that door.  Her brothers weren’t out there right now—they were where she should be—at the dinner table at her mother’s house.

Mickie stood, brushed the HoHo crumbs from her robe and tightened the sash.  She tiptoed to the side window, because she was too short to see through the peephole. To look out the window, she would have to chance letting whoever was there know she was inside, because the window was in the corner and to the right of the door. 

If Mickie was going to die, she wanted to see it knocking on her door.

Her heart pounded in her ears when a second series of louder and more forceful knocks came. It was definitely not Lucinda knocking—it was a man.  Tito hopped off the couch to start barking at the door and she flinched.

Taking a deep breath, Mickie leaned over and pushed the curtain back to take a quick glance. All she saw was a blur of red, before she quickly dropped the curtain and flattened her back against the wall.  Sprinting on her toes back to the end table, she snatched up her phone and ran for the bathroom.  When she was inside with the door locked, her hand shook as she called Matteo, because she knew Dante was out of town.

“Someone’s at my door,” she whispered as soon as he answered.  She heard loud voices, boisterous laughter and dishes clanking in the background and her heart squeezed.

“I’ll be there in a second,” he said, and the line went dead.  Mickie gripped her phone tightly and slid down the door to sit on the floor. 

The knocks continued, as did Tito’s barking, and she hoped Matt would hurry.  A few minutes later, she heard muffled voices and opened the bathroom door just as something slammed into her front door, shaking it on its hinges.  Mickie ran through the living room, slid off the chain and her hand shook as she flipped the deadbolt.  The door rocked again and she stepped back to put her hand to her mouth. 

Had she made a mistake calling her brother?  Was the hitman hurting him instead of her? 

Grabbing the knob, Mickie flung open the door and a man’s body flew past her. Roses rained down on her head, and the well-dressed man landed on his side, hard, then cursed loudly. In Italian.  A hitman wouldn’t be bringing her roses for sure.

Mickie’s relief was so great, her knees buckled.

Matt stepped into the doorway with his fists curled to glare down at the man.  “I suggest you crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of, stronzo, or things will be coming up roses in another hole.”

The man on the floor growled as he turned around and sat up. “You Girabladis don’t scare me. I’ve tussled with the best of you.  Ask your brother, Dante, how that turned out for him.”

Well, if Dante’s face looked worse than Grayson’s, he must be in the hospital, Mickie thought, her insides clenching.

“Is Dante in the hospital?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Grayson’s gray-green stare cut right through her. “No, but I’m sure his car is,” he replied, his lips flattening over his teeth. “And I’m fine too—thank you for asking.”

Mickie frowned when Tito hopped into Grayson’s lap to put his paws on his chest and licked the underside of his chin. Little traitor.

Grayson Jennings had no right to be angry. She was the one who had a right to be angry. That he was here.   That he was breathing her air. 

“Don’t lick him, Tito—he is dead to us!” she said as she walked over to snatch him up and hold him to her chest.

“Well, I bought you the flowers from my funeral, Jersey, if you want to gather them up,” he said, springing to his feet.  He smoothed out his dark gray suit coat and straightened his tie.  The whiteness of his dress shirt blinded her, but the perfection of the man standing in her living room made her mouth water. And when he turned that stare on her again, her knees buckled.

That freaking stare would be the death of her. It was like a tractor beam that pulled her in and refused to let her go.  But she would break that connection, because this man was dead to her. She knew the asshole who lived behind those beautiful eyes and wanted nothing to do with him.

“Get out!” she said, pointing at the door. “And don’t come back.”

Because then I’ll have to start getting over you all over again.

“Nothing is ever easy with you, is it?”  Grayson asked as Matt grabbed his arm.

“Nothing easy is worth having,” she replied.  “Easy came and you rejected it, remember?”

“I’m trying here, Jersey. I want to talk to you, but you and your damned brothers are making that impossible.” His eyes softened as they streaked down her body to her toes, before gliding back to hers.  Mickie hardened her heart to the pain she saw there, reminded herself of the pain he’d caused her—was causing her. 

“I have no interest in anything you have to say, Mr. Jennings.  You’re dead to me, so don’t waste your time.  Don’t bother to try again either, because I know what kind of man you are now, and you’re definitely not man enough for me.”

Those words tasted sweet on her tongue, but bitter on her lips as she watched him nod and let Matt lead him out the door.  She was back to day one of the process, but she would grieve until that man was out of her soul for good.  The only question was, would there be enough HoHos in New Jersey to accomplish that.

With a sigh, Mickie closed and locked the door, then staggered back to the couch.  Her favorite episode of Lucy was on—the one at the candy factory.  Tears burned her eyes as she grabbed two chocolate rolls from the coffee table and sat back down.  She opened one, pulled out a roll and took a huge bite.  The cream, sugar, and chocolate exploded on her taste buds and tears rolled down her face as she watched Lucy cram chocolates into her mouth. 

A wave of tiredness swept through her and she wilted down onto her pillow. She dropped the other roll onto the table then tugged her blanket up to her chin.  Tito hopped up on the end of the sofa and scrambled up her side to lay his head on her shoulder.  He licked her ear and she shivered as she drifted off to sleep wondering if anyone had ever died from a broken heart.

Mickie woke up to a dark apartment and looked around as Tito stood up on her shoulder and barked.  Still half asleep, she grabbed him and held him close as she sat up to listen for whatever he heard. She squinted in the dim light of the TV to find her phone on the table, then grabbed it. She wobbled to her feet and walked quietly to the bathroom.  She’d just closed the door when she heard a knock.

Matteo would probably be at work now, but she was sure Dom would be home, so she called him.  “Someone is at my door,” she whispered, flipping the lock on the door.

“I’ll be there in a second, cucciola—do not open that door!” he growled, then hung up.

A louder, more forceful knock rattled her door.  Mickie had a feeling she knew who was there and she wanted a front row seat to watch her youngest, but biggest, brother kick his ass. That was how mad she was as she unlocked the bathroom door to stride across the living room.

She walked to the window and pushed the curtain aside, and saw she was right.  She saw Dom lumbering across the parking lot and dropped the curtain to flip the chain off, twist the deadbolt and open the door.  Grayson Jennings stood there with a Styrofoam box in his hand.

He shoved it at her as he walked inside the door.

“We need to talk, and you need to eat.  Those HoHos are going to make you sick,” he growled as he turned to face her. His eyes widened when Dom’s bulk filled the doorway.

An incredible smell wafted up to tease Mickie’s nose and her stomach rumbled as she identified it as ravioli.  If this man thought he was going to buy his way back into her life with pasta, he had another thing coming.  She could make her own damned pasta if she wanted some.

Mickie opened the box and curled her lip as she walked over to him.  With great pleasure, she shoved the box into his chest and he growled as he looked down.  Satisfaction filled her when the red sauce soaked into the front of his shirt and spread to the lapel of his expensive suit.

“I don’t want your pasta, Mr. Armani,” she said, giving the box another push into his chest for good measure.  “And before you say it—you can forget about me buying you a new suit.  Consider it payment for taking up my time.”  She stepped back, the box fell to the floor and she turned to her brother who shook his head. “Dom, would you please escort Mr. Jennings to his car?”

Gray swiped the pasta from the front of his shirt then stalked to the door. “I know my way out, but thank you,” he growled, then waited for Dom to move.

Mickie smiled as she shut her door and locked it again, but it dropped when she turned around and saw the mess she had to clean up.  It was worth it to see the horrified look on his face, she thought, as she walked to the laundry to get a towel. 

A little anticipation buzzed through Mickie as she wondered what he’d do next. One thing was for sure, the look on his face when he left said Grayson Jennings would be back, and she couldn’t wait. This might be just what she needed to get over and get rid of him.

Mickie was starting to feel better already, she thought, as she jerked a towel from the shelf and marched back into the living room.  She would keep dishing it out as long as he came back for more, and would enjoy every minute.