Chapter Thirty
I climb the three concrete stairs of the porch, using my hands as shields around my face so I can peer into the window of our new living room.
Amusement drips from Vince’s words. “You know there’s a key.”
“I like the carpet,” I tell him, ignoring his logic. “It looks soft.”
“And if we use this key here, we can go in and see if it is.”
I pull back from the window, placing a hand on my hip, and turn back to give him a discouraging stare. “This is our first place. Let me enjoy this.”
He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. I enjoy the lightness in him once more—it’s been a long time.
Mateo stands right next to Vince, hands shoved into the pockets of his long black coat. I’m surprised by how similar they look from here, both with their dark heads, similar heights, similar features.
At least if I would’ve been pregnant, it would’ve been hard to tell which one was the father without a test. Thankfully, it won’t be an issue.
I sigh, full of lightness myself.
“The carpet’s new,” Mateo remarks, smiling faintly at my enthusiasm. “And it is soft.”
“I love soft carpet,” I state, grinning and coming back down the steps to stand in the yard with them.
I stand by Vince and look back at the house. It’s a converted duplex, so only half the house is ours, but we don’t have to pay Mateo any rent.
“The other unit’s full at least through the summer. You can keep the rent from that one—that way you’ll have a little money to live on.”
Glancing at his cousin, Vince says, “You don’t want a cut?”
Mateo shakes his head. “I don’t need it. You will. It’s clean and in good repair, but it’s a far cry from what you’re used to.”
“No pool?” Vince asks, mockingly.
Smirking, Mateo says, “No pool.”
“I’m so okay with that,” I announce. “I’ve got by on a shoestring budget before, I can do it again.”
“You’ll have to teach me,” Vince says lightly.
Quirking an eyebrow, I say, “You’ll have to eat jarred spaghetti sauce.”
Clutching his heart, he asks, “Why do you wound me like this?”
I smile, leaning in and brushing a soft, impulsive kiss across his lips. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Ooh,” he says, clearly approving.
“Okay, I’m gonna get out of here,” Mateo states, interrupting our flirting.
Vince smiles at me, winking before wrapping an arm around me and turning so we’re both facing Mateo. “Well… thank you for this,” Vince says.
Mateo nods, but there’s a spark in his eye I don’t like, and his eyes are on me. “Don’t thank me, thank Mia.”
Unprepared, I lose my smile, but Vince is still holding me in such a way he wouldn’t have seen. I paste it back on, a little less exuberant, and try to murder Mateo with my eyes.
“For not talking,” Mateo adds, after far too long a pause.
“Right,” Vince says, dryly.
Mateo doesn’t keep poking. Instead, he hands Vince the keys. “There’s not much in the way of furniture, but a truck will be by later with a bed, a couch, a TV—just enough to get you started.”
It feels real, maybe for the first time, when Mateo walks to the car waiting for him alone, and looks back to say, “I’ll see you both Sunday.”
For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, I’m not going to see Mateo at breakfast the next morning. I won’t pass his study, or walk the halls of his house wondering if I’ll see him around the next corner.
Vince holds up the keys, dangling them in front of me. “Our own place.”
I smile, aware of Mateo’s car pulling away. “Yep.”
“Ready to go in?” he asks.
“I think so.”
Vince smiles at me, taking my hand as we walk up the steps. “It’s going to be so empty.”
“But full of love,” I joke.
Pulling a face, he says, “Ew, gross.”
I elbow him in the side and he pulls me close, giving me a squeeze.
The living room is tiny, but perfect, since we won’t have much to fill it with. Since there’s no furniture, I sit down on the floor and cross my legs, looking around.
Vince sits down with me, following my gaze as if to see what I’m looking at.
“I think we put the TV over there,” I announce, nodding confidently.
Vince agrees, jerking a thumb toward the wall behind us. “Couch back here.”
“Yep. We’re not going to be able to afford cable, so we should borrow all of Joey’s Jason Statham movies.”
Snorting, he wraps his arms around me and tugs me back against him. “I can think of far better uses of our time.”
I let him pull me back, pulling a thoughtful face, resting my chin on my hand to really sell it. “Like what?”
In response, he leans down and brushes a soft kiss across my lips. I kiss him back, wrapping my arms around his neck at the awkward angle, and before I know it, we’re tugging clothes off and christening our brand new living room.
Afterward, curled in each other’s arms on the floor, I announce, “The carpet is soft.”
Vince snorts, tucking my head under his chin. “Good thing.”
We stay just like that for a long time—too long. We were supposed to bring in the stuff we had packed and brought over in Vince’s car, but before we even get dressed again, the furniture truck pulls up outside.
Scrambling to get dressed before they come up on the porch, I tell Vince, “Our first purchase has to be curtains.”
Since we never made it past the living room, Vince goes to make sure the path to the bedroom is clear for the movers, and I head out to the truck.
“Vince Morelli?” the man asks, glancing at his order sheet.
“Yep, this is Vince Morelli’s house.”
The second man rolls up the back of the truck, placing a ramp there. I move around to the back to look at the stuff, since Mateo never asked, just ordered it himself. It’s mostly what I expect as I watch them unload—a queen bed, a mid-size television with a stand, a charcoal gray sofa. Then the unexpected: a short three-shelf bookshelf and a single rectangular box.
Vince is down the hall, putting sheets on our new bed, so once the men bring it in, I take a moment alone to open the mystery box.
It’s my box of graphic novels.
On a gold-rimmed, cream colored card, scrawled in the handwriting I didn’t recognize the first time, it reads:
I can’t help smiling as I read it.
“I did it!” Vince calls, his voice louder as he comes down the hall. “All by myself. We don’t even need a maid.”
I stand, crushing the card in my fist and shoving it in my pocket, since we don’t have a garbage can yet. “Good job, baby,” I say, with a teasing wink.
“Those corners are no joke,” he states, glancing past me at the box. “What’s in there?”
Shaking my head dismissively, I tell him, “Oh, just some books.”
That doesn’t excite him in the least, so the box is already forgotten. Grabbing my hand, he tugs me down the hall. “Come look at how good I did.”
I grin at him, allowing him to pull me along. “I bet there’s never been a more neatly made bed anywhere, ever.”
“I can’t wait to mess it up,” he tells me, flashing me a smirk.
Checking the imaginary watch on my wrist, I say, “Then why should we? I got nothing else to do today.”
“Oh, you do now,” he assures me, pulling me in for a kiss as we back into the bedroom, then kicking the door shut behind us.
THE END… sorta. ;)