“I refuse to allow the patriarchy to determine who should be in the kitchen,” Chiara says as she digs into the spaghetti and shovels it in her mouth. Smashing the patriarchy has clearly never tasted so good. Barely two chews and a swallow later, she’s back. “Mom did all the cooking when we were kids and I vowed I would not be that chick. But now my wife is eating another woman’s croissants so maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Abby looks concerned, which is pretty damn empathetic of her and just affirms what a good person she is.
“But Aunt Devi will be coming home soon, right?” Lena shoots a worried glance my way.
Chiara raises both hands. “Of course she will! I just miss her, that’s all.”
Lena doesn’t like to hear about people going through relationship problems. It’s a little too close to the bone.
Deflecting, Chiara smiles at Abby. “So Abby, tell us all about how you became a firefighter. I heard you used to be a paramedic?”
“Yeah, I was. Still am. That’s a pretty traditional path. Once you’re in that lane, Fire Academy seems like the most logical step.”
“And your mom was a big shot, huh?”
“Yep, one of the original cohort of women firefighters in Chicago twenty-seven years ago. The first group were twenty women, assigned in pairs to ten stations, so they could look out for each other. Some of the stories I’ve heard about the resistance to their presence would make your hair stand on end.”
Chiara swallows another mouthful of pasta. “Like what?”
“Red pepper on their sheets, dirty underwear in lockers, risqué reading material to try and create an atmosphere of harassment. Some of the women quit but my mom didn’t.”
I love hearing the pride in her voice. It’s a hard act to follow but so far she’s kicking ass.
“And for a hetero lady, it can’t have been all bad,” Chiara says, because everything is about relationships with her. “Those are pretty good odds!”
“Oh, yeah. Of course they were all catches, every one.” She flicks a shy glance toward me, then away again.
“She met your dad there,” I say, then immediately regret it.
Abby meets my gaze directly now. “She did. When I was born, he wanted her to quit. Only one superhero per family allowed.”
“Did she?” Lena is listening intently. “Because she should be able to do whatever she wants.”
That’s my girl.
“She stayed home with me for a couple of years,” Abby goes on, “but then she came back to the fire department. It must have been hard for her, but she and my dad figured it out.”
Her brow rumples as she thinks on that. I suspect she wants to say more, talk about how a firefighter marriage strained at the seams, but that would only make the conversation too serious.
“She must have been really brave,” Lena says. “Like you.”
“Oh, I’m not brave. But she was. She was a total badass.”
I think her daughter is just like her.
Twenty-five
Abby
Roman won’t let us help with the dishes—I offered, his sister scoffed—so we sit at the table, enjoying the sight of a man taking care of business. Lena is playing video games, having claimed she’s finished her homework.
“I could get used to this,” I say, as I drain my glass. When Chiara goes to top me up, I call it. “Can’t. I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”
“Who?” Chiara’s mouth turns down. “A date?”
“Sort of. Roman doesn’t approve.”
His shoulder muscles stiffen at the mention of my plans. It takes all my willpower not to reach out and run my hands over them. It’s not even sexual—or not a hundred percent so.
He turns, drying his hands on a dishtowel, an eyebrow scooted in disapproval. “He’s into Kurosawa.”
“What’s that? Some weird BDSM thing?”
I laugh, seeking to ease the tension that bunches up my internal organs whenever I talk about other men around Roman.
“He’s a celebrated Japanese filmmaker,” I say to Chiara. “Connor’s a fan.”
“Connor? Have you gone on a date with him yet?”
“No. We’ve been missing each other. Our stars haven’t aligned.” I’ve actually ignored his texts for the last few weeks.
Roman bends over to pull a dishwasher packet out of the cupboard under the sink. His jeans tighten perfectly across his ass and I have to blink to come back from the heaven that image sent me to.
Chiara smirks at me. Damn.
“So, it sounds like stars are not aligning for a reason,” she adds with a devious twinkle. “Maybe it’s not meant to be.”
“I won’t know for sure until I meet him.” I avoid Roman’s heated gaze. “I really should get going.”
Before dinner, I made it very clear to Roman that he just needed to say the word and I was his. In bed, that is. I truly believe we can handle this in a mature and adult manner.
I’m especially interested in all things mature and adult with this man.
“Thanks so much for dinner. This was really nice.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Roman says, and when his sister grins, he scowls at her. Which is about as sexy as the man can get.
Hard-earned smiles, stormy scowls … I love it all.
But it doesn’t matter. He’s walking me out and that’s all there is to it.
“Thanks again,” I say over my shoulder as we get to the front door.
He doesn’t say a word, just opens the door, follows me out, and closes it behind him.
“You going somewhere?”
“Walking you home. Unless you’re going out on your date immediately.”
“No, I’m going home first. To, uh, take a shower.” A cold one from the way my body is reacting under Roman’s hot and heavy gaze.
“Then I’ll make sure you get there safely.”
Safely? Impossible under the circumstances as every cell of my being is under sensual threat. We walk, neither of us speaking until the silence threatens to bury me.
Finally, I say, “It’s strange that we’re such close neighbors but never met before a month ago.”
“Kind of nice, though,” he murmurs. “I get to run into you at the diner and walk you home.”
There’s a sweetness to those words, like he genuinely believes those are perks instead of straight-up temptations. But perks of what? Friendship?
We exchange a few words about nothing I can remember and then we’re at the front door to my building. The cicadas are singing, a light breeze ruffles Roman’s midnight-dark hair, and this beautiful spring evening hitches my heart with its perfection.
“What?” he murmurs. “What’s that smile?”
“I’m just thinking of what a lovely night it is.” And how now I’m going to ruin it by going on a date with some random guy.
Roman stares at me, into me, and that light breeze ignites into a hot gust that envelops my body.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.
“I genuinely don’t know what to do here.”