“Unless you need me to help with the move before then. In which case I’ll be there.”
Emma paused.
“He wants to take you out on a date, Em. I know it’s been a while, but this is how it’s done. Guys don’t ask if you want to go out, they assume the answer is yes and ask what time,” Nicole told her.
Emma blamed the lack of sleep from the night before. The one where Gio made good on his slow and very thorough lovemaking and kept her up half the night. Not that she was complaining, even in her own head.
She offered a sideways glance. “Are we assuming things?”
He leaned over; his lips hovered above hers. “Can I do that, cara? Can I assume when it comes to Saturday nights with you?”
The man put warmth in her belly like no one had before. “We can give it a trial run,” she teased.
“Trial . . . do I get a six-month lease? A year?”
That sounded long term to her ears. “How about month to month.” Even that sounded like commitment.
Gio kissed her briefly and pulled away. “We’ll renegotiate in thirty days.”
Her heart was pounding, this time it wasn’t in excitement, but nerves.
“I’ll make dinner reservations for seven. But come early to help you pack. Or help you move, and we can order food in. Whatever you need,” he said.
“What about what you need?” The man was always trying to do something for her.
“All I need is to see you again . . . soon.”
“Oh my God. Can you two keep the pillow talk to the bedroom?” Nicole’s tone was pure teasing annoyance.
An hour later, boarding for their flight opened and Emma said her goodbyes.
Giovanni kissed her in a way that should have been indecent . . . and would have been if they were anywhere but in an airport, but no one seemed the wiser. “Text me when you land in London and when you get to San Diego,” he said.
It was nice that someone cared. In all the times she’d flown in the past, no one asked for a safety update.
“I will.”
She and Nicole inched through the line, and as she started down the jet bridge, she looked over her shoulder to find Giovanni watching her.
He smiled and waved.
And an unfamiliar wave of emotion bubbled up inside her.
“Holy crap . . . are you crying?” Nicole asked.
Emma blinked several times. “No. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“We waited a whole day. But now, you tell us everything.”
Gio had to give his mother credit. When he’d arrived home the day before, and all but fell into bed from the lack of sleep from the long flight, Mari hadn’t done more than greet him, give him food, and say good night.
Even though it wasn’t a Sunday, the entire family gathered on the rooftop terrace of their home, the table was set . . . and the wine was poured.
A home-cooked meal sounded divine . . . although if Gio was being honest with himself, what he really craved was a burger. Italian family meant Italian food . . . and even he was a bit burnt out on pasta and wine.
There was no way out of forced family time. Which he wouldn’t change for the world.
What did Emma go home to?
An empty condo with boxes ready to pack.
Her text message was on his phone when he’d landed the day before. I’m home and exhausted.
Since his flight came in after Emma’s by a few hours, he didn’t comment or text a reply until morning, afraid he would wake her with the pinging on her phone.
Here he was, late afternoon the next day, and all he’d managed with Emma was a couple of pleasant text messages, with a promise to talk later in the evening.
“It was truly one of the best experiences of my life. I can’t thank you all enough.”
The whole family sat around the table. He and his mother took up each end while Chloe and Dante sat on one side and Luca, Brooke, and Franny evened it out on the other.
“Details, Gio . . . Mama is asking for details,” Chloe teased.
“I lost count of the places we stopped. All of them had a certain amount of charm and none of the wine was awful. We’ve all had bad wine, so that is hard to do.” Gio talked about Claudio and Alessandro and how they basically worked for three weeks straight. “When we stopped for longer stays, they would rotate who was around . . . taking a day off, but someone was always there.”
The family sat in rapt attention.
“There were four women from Florida . . .” The antics of the Golden Girls and the sheer amount of wine they drank and purchased was talked and laughed about. Rob, Pierre, and Chris . . . their laughter and willingness to participate in anything and everything. He told them about Weston and Kimmy and the search-party experience.
And when Gio paused long enough to shove some food into his mouth, his mother offered a sweet smile and tapped her fingers on the table.
“You’ve said nothing about Emma.”
Gio chewed slowly and looked around the table.
Everyone was quietly watching him.
He slowly swallowed with a grin and followed it with a drink of water. “What do you want to know?”
Mari lost her smile. Slapped a hand on the table. “What do I want to know?” She rolled her eyes, lifted a hand in the air, and switched to Italian. “For an hour you’ve talked about everyone but the woman you introduced us to.”
“C’mon, Gio . . . give it up,” Chloe said, kicking him under the table.
“Hey.”
“Is she your girlfriend?” Franny asked without hesitation.
Gio winked at his niece. “Emma is someone I hope you will all meet very soon.”
“Bene, bene . . .” His mother was smiling again.
“I won’t say she’s a girlfriend, but we are more than friends.”
Mari’s smile fell to a flat line. “Why not a girlfriend?”
“Mama, we’ve only known each other a few weeks.”
“This means nothing to me. When you know, you know.” Mari swirled spaghetti with her fork. “Your father and I—”
“Yes, Mama, we know. Instant love, marriage, and babies. It isn’t like that nowadays.”
Brooke cleared her throat and placed a hand on her protruding baby bump. “I disagree.”
Dante laughed. “It took Chloe and I more time.”
Mari tossed around gestures with her free hand. “You were childhood friends. That’s different. And since you eloped without a whisper to the family, something must have been instant. Not that I want you to share.”
Dante stood down.
Smart man.
“This Emma is beautiful, and the way you smiled at her . . .”
“It was sappy adorable, Gio,” Chloe said in agreement with their mother.
He was infatuated with the woman, there was no pretending otherwise. “Her guard is up a bit. She’s been married before.”
“Children?” Mari asked.
“No, Mama. But when someone is divorced it takes a little longer to trust.”
All eyes turned to Luca. The only person at the table who had any personal authority on the subject.
Gio waited for his brother to agree.
Instead, Luca placed a hand over Brooke’s at the table and shook his head. “Not when you find the right person.”
Gio rolled his eyes. “It still takes time.”