Cuff Me(12)

The smell of her familiar citrusy perfume assaulted his nostrils.

She was all smiles as she reached over with a spontaneous grab of his hand as she gave his arm a little shake. “I love this. I love being back.”

“Good,” he grunted, resisting the urge to shake off her touch. She’d always been like that. Touchy. Feely. It didn’t usually bother him, but tonight it felt like too much.

She studied him, her wide blue eyes every bit as assessing as Elena’s had been earlier.

Damn the prying, observant females.

“You okay?” she asked.

He looked up and looked at her then. Really looked at her. Her blond hair was down around her shoulders, a shorter piece near her forehead falling into her eyes as it so often was.

Her mouth was pink and lipstick free, her pointy upturned nose wrinkled at him in concern.

The face was as familiar to him as his own, and he felt a rough twist in his stomach.

“I’m good,” he said.

“So, Jill,” Maria said, capturing her attention. “Your man… he lives in Florida?”

Jill’s eyes held his for a heartbeat before she released his hand and turned her attention back to his mother.

“Not full-time. He was just there temporarily, doing something with a new condo community. He’s in real estate development.”

Luc wiggled his eyebrows as the food was being passed around. “So he’s loaded.”

Ava used a piece of bread to gesture at Jill’s left hand. “Look at that ring. Of course he’s loaded.”

Vincent numbly accepted the salad bowl Anth shoved at him and scooped some onto his plate before handing the bowl to Jill.

But Jill was in the middle of telling her proposal story, both hands flapping around in excitement, so he scooped a pile of salad onto her plate and passed it over her head to his father at the head of the table.

Feeling eyes on him, he glanced across the table to see his mother watching him. She’d clearly seen the gesture and her eyes were… sad.

God.

This misplaced sympathy really had to stop. His family had to quit acting like he was some victim here. Some little boy left out in the cold because the girl he liked, liked someone else.

Except he didn’t like Jill. Not like that.

And even if he did, it wouldn’t matter.

Because Jill was getting married.





CHAPTER FIVE


Vincent and Jill both lived in Astoria, a residential neighborhood in Queens that was perfectly lovely.

And not at all close to Manhattan.

Which meant, as usual, Vincent was driving Jill home.

Except not like usual, the silence in the car was… deafening.

Jill was used to being silent with Vin. You don’t survive a six-year partnership without knowing how to be silent together.

But tonight felt different. Tense.

And it didn’t take a genius to identify the elephant in the room. It was sitting on the fourth finger of her left hand.

Vincent Moretti had always been the only person in Jill’s life with whom she didn’t feel she had to make small talk. Not that she didn’t chat his ear off from time to time. She did. Often.

But she’d never felt compelled to fill silence.

Tonight, she did.

But before she could think up a safe, non-wedding-related topic, Vin shocked the hell out of her by beating her to it.

“How’s your mom?”

She glanced over at his profile, noting the way the city lights illuminated his harsh, unsmiling features.

“She’s good. Really good.”

“Glad to hear it. Always liked your mom. Never been able to figure out how a classy woman like that raised a smart-mouthed pain-in-the-ass like you.”

“Really?” Jill drawled. “This from someone whose parents are practically saints and yet somehow produced a complete grade-A—”

“And your flight?” he interrupted. “Flight was good?”

Jill stared at him. “Seriously. We’re doing this?”

“Doing what?”

Jill reached over and punched him in the shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in three months, and you want to talk about my flight?”

He lifted a shoulder. “What do you want to talk about?”

Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact that you never called. That I barely heard from you. Or hey, here’s an idea. How about we talk about the fact that I’m getting married.

And then there was that doughnut.

Sure, it was just a doughnut. A smashed, mutilated doughnut.

But it was her favorite kind. From a bakery not at all near Anth’s house, which meant that he’d gone out of his way to get it.

What was that about? And why did her stomach fill with happy butterflies every time she thought about it?

“So Maggie’s big, huh?” Jill asked, still clamoring for a topic that was safe but not completely generic. “I can’t believe we’re going to have a baby in the family.”

Vincent gave a rare smile. “Yeah. Nonna’s already knitted at least a dozen pairs of those little foot cover things.”

“Booties,” Jill said. “And Nonna knits?”

“Supposedly. Although Mom swears she saw Nonna snipping a Target tag off the last one, so who knows?”