Sempre: Redemption (Forever Series #2)(144)

Her hand immediately went to her face, her fingers running down the ridge of her nose as she eyed Carmine hesitantly. He groaned, realizing it sounded like he was telling her that. He recalled how self-conscious she had been years before and felt like an a**hole. Way to go, DeMarco. Insult her next time . . .

“Not you, tesoro,” he said. “I didn’t mean you. Your nose is fine. Fucking great, even. I’m just saying, you know, hypothetically . . .”

“Well, hypothetically, why would it be necessary to tell me? It wouldn’t be hurting you, so why hurt me?”

She had Carmine again. “Well, what if your painting sucked? Like this tree—what if it was honestly the worst tree ever painted?”

“It probably is.”

“But what if it was for a grade, and I had to tell you so you wouldn’t fail?”

“It is for a grade.”

He looked at her with disbelief before glancing back at the canvas. “You painted a marijuana leaf on schoolwork?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

Her nonchalance stunned him. “There’s something wrong with you.”

She laughed. She f**king laughed. If she were ever going to prove Carmine right, it was then. There was seriously something wrong with her.

“I can start over,” she said. “Maybe I’ll paint something else.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” he said. “I like this one.”

“Why?” she asked, eyeing the painting peculiarly again. “It’s just a tree.”

“But it’s our tree,” he said. Hadn’t they just been through that? “We climbed that motherf*cker together twice. Fell out of it once. That makes it special.”

The smile that curved her lips warmed Carmine from the inside. He loved that smile. It meant she was happy—that he had made her happy. There was no better feeling than that. After spending so many years doing nothing but disappointing everyone who came into contact with him, it was nice to do some good for once.

“Okay, then. Maybe I’ll paint over it.”

“Yeah, make some happy clouds to go with your happy little magical tree,” he joked.

They stood there for a moment, engulfed in a serious silence as she mused over her painting, before Carmine grabbed her and pulled her to him again. She spun around with a laugh, wrapping her arms around him in a hug, but froze after a second when her hands slid down his back, reaching his waistband.

“Oh God, please tell me that’s not . . .” She trailed off, pulling out of the hug. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Depends on what you think it is.”

She gripped his waistband, her eyes narrowing. “You brought a gun in here, Carmine? You can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

She gaped at him. “Because there’s a sign on the door that says so! You can’t bring concealed weapons in this place!”

“Tesoro, relax. I carry it everywhere—you know that.”

“Yes, but here?” she asked. “It’s unlawful!”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “We live in Chicago. Me just breathing in the direction of a gun is illegal. Would you rather I get rid of it completely?”

“Yes.”

Her answer was quick and firm, catching him off guard. She looked at Carmine with certainty and he shook his head. “So you’d prefer me defenseless?”

She blanched. “Of course not.”

“Then what’s the big deal?”

“I don’t want you to get caught.”

“I won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

“But I do,” he said. “I know what I’m doing.”

“All right, but—”

“No buts.”

She huffed at the interruption and completely ignored him. “But why do you bring it places like here? I get that you need it for work, but why when you’re with me?”

He shrugged. “You never know when something might happen.”

“So? You never know when it might rain, but I don’t see you carrying an umbrella everywhere just in case.”

He chuckled at the absurdity of the comparison, even though she was completely serious. “The weatherman usually warns me when that’s gonna happen.”

“And you don’t get warnings? Corrado doesn’t tell you when something’s going to happen? What happened to intuition?”

“Well, yeah, but I can’t always plan. Sometimes I only have time to react.”

She thought he was paranoid. Christ, he probably was paranoid, but rightfully so. He knew how ruthless the streets could be and if she were thinking clearly, she would see it too. He understood, though. His life still scared her. Hell, it scared Carmine just as much, but the best way to deal was to always be prepared.

And regardless of what she insisted, sometimes you had to be mean to make it. It was how the game was played. If you aren’t the predator, you end up the prey.

“Besides,” he added, “last I checked, a little rain couldn’t kill you.”

“But lightning can if it’s a storm.”

“And you think an umbrella would help you in that case?” he asked, throwing one of her earlier arguments back at her.