Take Your Time (Boston Love #4)(51)

I roll my eyes to hide the way my heart is pounding. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s the kind from the box.”

“Not picky, babe.”

“Ooooo, he called you baaaaaaabe!” Potter giggles, delighted.

“He is your boyfriend,” Harry mutters, sounding dejected.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say quickly.

“Harry’s sulky because he fought he was gonna marry you one day.” Potter looks at her twin. “I told you she was too old, doodie-head! She’s like a hundred, you can’t marry her!”

Great. Now I’m an old slut. This is getting better and better.

Luca makes a choked sound, like he’s trying desperately not to laugh. I glare at him as the twins each take me by a hand and start dragging me toward the front door.

“This is not funny.” I frown at him.

“Babe.” He shrugs lightly. “Gotta admit, it’s a little funny.”

“Baaaaaaaaabe!” The twins sing-song.

I grab my keys off the hook by the door and jerk my head toward the dog carrier, still sitting by the threshold where Duncan abandoned it.

“See if there’s a leash in there, will you?” I ask Luca. “The mongrel probably has to pee, anyway. Unless he’s already peed on my kitchen floor. For the second time today.” I shake my head at the pup. “Maybe after dinner we should watch Lady and the Tramp, just to put the fear of god in him. Thoughts?”

Luca laughs and shoots me a look that’s so warm, so happy, it makes me want to keel over right there in my foyer.

“What?” I ask, still being tugged along by the twins. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Delilah, if I told you my thoughts at this moment, you’d throw up a wall I just got done knocking down. So I think I’ll wait a while, till I know you’re ready, before I share all the things I’m thinking right now.”

With that, he scoops up the puppy and walks across the room to hunt down his leash. Mute, I let the twins drag me outside, down the stairs, and next door to their place, wondering how the hell I’m going to get myself out of this new mess I’m in.

In the words of Potter…

I fink I’m totally fucked.



Luca and I throw ourselves down on the grass at the park around the corner, winded from an epic game of tag with the twins. As soon as I’m horizontal, the puppy pounces on my head and douses me with kisses. I groan and throw up my hands to defend myself.

“Here, I’ve got him.” Luca pulls the dog off me.

Propping myself up on my elbows, I glance over and find him sprawled in the grass beside me beneath the tree, the puppy cradled against his chest, looking so handsome it steals my breath all over again. He strokes his hands over the dog’s lush fur. The little monster’s eyes are starting to droop, clearly exhausted after chasing us around the park for the past hour on his half-grown legs.

A couple walks by pushing a stroller, smiling at us as they pass. I wonder what we look like to them — the brawny redheaded man, his strawberry blonde wife in ripped jeans and flip-flops, their perfect pair of kids, and even a tiny rust-colored dog to complete the equation.

A family.

The thought is so foreign, so completely unexpected, I don’t know how to classify it.

A hope?

A nightmare?

A fantasy?

A fate worse than death?

I can’t sort out my own feelings on the matter and, one thing’s for sure, staring into Luca’s bottomless blue eyes while I attempt it isn’t making the process any simpler. I quickly turn my head to the jungle gym, where the twins are swinging in tandem, daring each other to go higher with each pump of their spindly legs.

“They’ve got energy,” Luca remarks after a while, his eyes on the kids.

“That they certainly do.”

“How long have you been watching them?”

“About four months. Since…”

I went broke and needed a job. Any job. Even one a thirteen-year-old is qualified to do.

“Huh.”

I glance at him. “What?”

“Nothing, just would’ve figured it was longer.”

“Why do you say that?”

He pauses. “Because of how much they love you.”

I scoff. “Don’t be silly. They don’t love me. They like me, certainly, but that’s as far as it goes.”

“Delilah,” he whispers, so softly I have to lean in to catch it. “Why is it so hard for you to accept the idea that someone might love you?”

“It’s not about that.” I dismiss his words, as if they don’t affect me in the slightest. “I’m just a babysitter. A next door neighbor. It’s not like I’m their Mom or their crazy aunt or their nanny. It’s not like…”

“Like what?”

“It’s not like I’m their—” My voice catches. “Like their big sister, or something.”

Luca is silent, digesting my words with care. I haven’t told him about Mimi, so there’s no way he could know why talking about big sisters feels like a knife to the gut. And yet, he’s so keenly observant of my every nuance, my every nervous tic and bad habit and withheld word, it doesn’t surprise me to see his eyes are full of questions. As if he knows there’s more to this story, that there are things I’m not letting on.