London Falling (Falling #2)(52)
“Miscusi.” Our Italian friend fumbled in, carrying a tray of dough-filled platters. Collier and I broke apart panting, both unable to pull much needed air into our lungs. Jesus, the man is a freight train, powering through every wall I place around my heart and mind. He seemed determined to make me insane with lust. He was right earlier. I would beg to be taken by the end of the night. Hell, I’ll be begging in about five minutes if our host leaves.
After taking a deep breath and adjusting his brown corduroy blazer, Collier pulled my chair out and I sat. He settled next to me. “Later,” is the only word he issued as we sat in silence, staring, practically undressing one another with our eyes.
“Come here, lovebirds,” Anthony says with a laugh. A big beefy hand motions for us to come to the brick oven. I hadn’t realized it was a functioning brick oven. I thought it was for warmth and decoration. The Italian held a huge wooden spatula with a pizza a foot in diameter on top. “Signora, you place the pizza over to the right under the heat, there. Signore.” He handed Collier his pizza. They were identical. “Place it there.” We shuffled our pizza’s into the oven. My spatula got stuck and Collier put his hands over mine and lightly yanked it free. His touch burned hotter than the heat pouring off the oven. I closed my eyes as he kissed my temple.
“My Beauty,” he whispered into my hair and then pulled away.
“Now, when the smells call to me, I will be back to dish out pieces of eternal amore, for it was made by my wife. She puts all her amore…you say, love…into every pie. It will be fantastico! I am so excited for you!” He said the word “excited” but it sounded like it had a couple more “d’s” than were needed.
His excitement was palpable and the love for his life, the food, our presence, spoke volumes about the type of establishment he ran. I was honored to be here, experiencing it with a man like Collier.
“You are a truly kind soul, Mr. Anthony,” I told him.
“Such sweet words from a belladonna, yes?” He asked Collier.
“Si, she is a very lovely woman, Anthony. Molto bello.” Very beautiful, he added to our server.
“Si, si. I leave you to it. Do not kiss too much. You may not want to stay to eat my food!” He warned and we both laughed and sat back down. “It will be good tomorrow but it will be magnifico tonight! Yes?” We nodded and Collier refilled our wine then set a bruschetta on my plate. Apparently, our host was fast. I hadn’t even seen him bring it. Must have been when Collier and I were fumbling with our pizzas.
“So, what else is there to know about London Kelley?” Collier asked taking a bite of the appetizer.
My face fell. I wasn’t sure what else he could handle. Never in my life had I been sorry for the decisions I’d made until right now, with this man who was far too good for me. “I’m not sure what else to say?”
“Tell me about Tripp?”
Fuck! Not the person I wanted to talk about. Somehow I just knew that if I told him Tripp and I had been together physically, his face would turn bright red and steam might blow out his ears like those old Bugs Bunny and Yosemite Sam cartoons. I stalled, trying to roll over what I could tell him by taking a bite of the bruschetta. The chopped tomatoes, fresh parsley and garlic were a dream. Thank God, both Collier and I were eating it. We’d be fire breathing together, cancelling out the garlic breath.
“Tripp and I have been best friends since just after James passed. I was in grief counselling. He was in narcotics anonymous. We ran into one another in the hallway and we just clicked. I needed someone who didn’t know me or James to help me get past my grief; he needed someone to care about that would care about him in return.”
Collier’s brown eyes sparkled with compassion and sympathy. “Tripp is a recovering addict then?”
I nodded. “He’s been clean awhile. Now and again, it still crops up. He fights it though. Sometimes I help.”
“Were you two ever an item?” he asked the one question I really didn’t want to answer. Didn’t think he could handle me answering. In the end. This was me. My life. If he wanted to be a part of it, he’d have to understand who I was and who was important to me.
“You could say that,” I answered vaguely. “We suffered through a lot together. There was a natural progression of that relationship, but we’re better as friends. We have a very toxic relationship emotionally when physical aspects are in play.”
Collier’s jaw tightened. He gazed to where the pizzas were cooking. I could feel jealousy like a vile acid, eating away at our good evening once more.
“You’re not together now. At all?” he asked.
I could tell a great deal hinged on how I answered this question.
“Collier, I wouldn’t be with you if I was with Tripp.”
“But you live with him,” he countered. The words were accusatory. It took amazing effort to swallow my pride and answer calmly.
“We do. And we sleep in our own beds in our own rooms. I will say this to you once, and that will have to be the end of it. Tripp and I love each other very much.” Collier stiffened from the tip of his wheat colored hair to the bottom of his leather boots. “Let me finish. We are not in-love with each other, nor have we ever been. We’ve had a mutually enjoyable physical relationship in the past. It ruined our friendship. So we choose to meet our physical needs with other partners. We are friends and will always be friends. Do you understand?”