Gian (Trassato Crime Family #1)(37)

“When’s the last time you went to a Broadway musical?”

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. “Five or six years ago. It’s…” I cleared my throat. “It’s not my thing. I tend to fall asleep.” To avoid stabbing myself in the eyes, I silently added.

Her eyes widened, and she punched me lightly on the shoulder. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. I’d much rather watch an action movie than a live production with people singing and dancing. Honestly, it gave me a big fat headache. I left at intermission the last time I went, swearing I’d never go back. “Don’t think about dragging me to one to prove me wrong.”

“What happens if I get the part I’m auditioning for? You’ll have to go if only to play the doting fiancé.”

“If you get a part in that play, how many months do you practice before the opening night?”

“A month. Maybe two depending on the budget.”

“Our arrangement will probably be over by then.” The second the words left my mouth, my insides wrenched painfully.

Evie stilled, looking at me like I had wounded her, and then she smiled, except it looked brittle. “Okay, then, I guess you’re safe from being tortured by me.”

“Lucky me.”

For some reason, I didn’t feel lucky at all. I felt vacant. I wanted to be there to see her debut. I wanted to fill her dressing room with so many flowers you could smell them from down the hall. I forced the image out of my head. “So lunch? What do you feel like?”





CHAPTER TWENTY




Evangeline



I didn’t know what to do with myself. For the first time in over a week, I was blessedly by myself. No Tony. No Gian. No one. Gian met a friend of his for dinner. He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask any questions. On his way out the door, he handed me a stack of takeout menus and told me he’d be home late and not to wait up.

I had roamed the floors of his home, peeking in rooms, opening cabinets, looking for nothing in particular. Maybe I wanted to know more about Gian. Maybe it soothed the anxiety building in my chest. For days, I had wanted time to decompress without anyone looking at me and judging me. Now that I had time alone, I hated it. I couldn’t stop thinking about last night and this afternoon. What they meant. What I wanted them to mean, if anything.

Lunch and every moment afterward felt too good to be true. He opened my car door. He entertained me with stories of Carmela and him when they were kids. He held my hand while we strolled aimlessly through his neighborhood in search of the perfect dessert. We ended up in a cute Italian deli, and he ordered so many confections they blanketed the tiny bistro table.

When I finally got around to bringing up what happened between us last night, he brushed my concerns aside, claiming we didn’t need to make a big deal out of it. He warned me not to complicate things. He told me we had plenty of time to figure it out. I ignored all of my doubts and continued pretending.

Pretending Gian cared for me. Pretending we were happily engaged. Pretending Gian didn’t have ties to the criminal world. Pretending everything would be fine.

Except now that he had left me alone for the first time in days, I couldn’t stop the tidal wave of thoughts from circling like vultures. Could I continue to crawl into his bed and pretend it didn’t matter? Could I handle being with him when we didn’t have a future?

Sadly, my current circumstance bore an eerie resemblance to what happened with Kevin. He swooped into my life and took over every detail, all the while chasing his dreams even as I forgot about mine. As much as I wanted to believe I wouldn’t put Gian first and let my prospects crumble, my fortitude wavered in the past, and it could again.

My exploration of Gian’s house at an end, I selected a cold-pressed juice from the refrigerator, an apple, and a paring knife from the kitchen. I flipped on the television and meticulously carved the apple into tiny wedges and popped them into my mouth one by one.

I flipped aimlessly through the channels, not really watching anything in particular. Instead, I stared blankly at the flickering screen, questioning everything and everyone without a single available confidant on speed dial. I’d systematically burned through every relationship I’d made since moving to New York.

After I hurt my ankle, I gradually stopped reaching out my theater friends. Being around them was too hard. With every passing accomplishment that belonged to them and not me, jealousy and regret multiplied until I couldn’t stand it. When I stopped returning their phone calls, they got the hint and followed suit.

I still had Carmela and Kevin, so I pushed on, filling my time with meaningless wedding details and helping Carmela get over the death of her fiancé. Now, I had no one. Gian didn’t count. If everything worked to plan, he’d be out of my life by the end of the summer.

When I realized I’d paused on an infomercial on skin care for a good half an hour, I turned off the television. My eyes heavy, I slumped against the arm of the sofa. I draped one hand over my face, and the other hand dangled above the floor, still clutching the stupid knife.

Like everything else, going to bed involved a choice. I didn’t know if I should go to the guest bedroom or Gian’s bedroom. The weak part of me wanted to avoid the choice altogether and fall asleep here. It’d be easier, but taking the easy path over the last year landed me in this mess in the first place. I pulled the gray throw blanket over my legs, promising myself I’d make a choice soon.