I look back, kind of hating myself when I feel disappointed that Ryan hasn’t followed after me.
Once the elevator door opens, I step inside, where I’m greeted by the last possible face I would want to see in this moment.
“Carina?”
Richard fucking Olsen.
His sleeves are rolled up the way Ryan’s had been when I first got to his suite earlier. His slate gray tie is loose around his neck, just a hue darker than his slacks. Proud as a peacock, he stands tall.
Which means one of two things: he’s about to start a fight, or he just got laid. Both options are viable in this moment.
“Hello, Richard.”
“What are you doing here? It’s late. Where’s Lina?” he asks, rapid-firing questions at me.
“I had a business meeting that ran late,” I tell him, not exactly lying. “Lina is with my parents.”
“A business meeting?” He chuckles, raising his eyebrow.
This has to be the longest elevator ride in existence.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, crossing my arms as I turn to face him.
Who the fuck is he to question me and what I’m doing?
“I had a business meeting,” he says, mimicking my tone and shrugging lazily when my eyes meet his. “Hey, so, I’ve been thinking about our dinner. How does breakfast sound instead? I know breakfast is your favorite. How about Saturday morning?”
As the door opens, I realize I left my phone in Ryan’s suite.
Fuck.
“I just realized I forgot my phone up in my producer’s suite,” I tell him, staying put in the elevator.
“Breakfast? Saturday? I’ll pick you up.”
Flustered by having to face Ryan again, I say, “Sure” before the door closes. I press the little button for the top floor, realizing what I’d just agreed to when the doors open again.
“Fuck,” I say aloud.
“My thoughts exactly.” Standing there with a small smile, Ryan is outside the elevator—my phone in hand. “We should talk.”
Ryan
“All right, before I chicken out,” Carina starts as the suite door is closing, sighing as she turns to face me, “I get that you probably do this kind of thing all the time, but this is just a lot for me. All at once. Part of me feels like I’ve known you my whole life, but the truth is, we barely know each other. And, then I worry that I’m imagining there’s something going on between us and this is completely one-sided and this is just sex for—”
“It’s not,” I say, cutting her off before she can finish.
If there’s anything she needn’t question, it’s that. Because I absolutely feel something for her too.
“It’s not one-sided,” I clarify. “I know you have this idea of me in your head thanks to the bollocks bit of information Alfie gave you the day we first met, but I don’t chase after women. I don’t spend Saturdays purposely losing at crazy golf because I want to buy two pretty girls ice cream. I don’t normally crash my brother’s dog walks. It’s not one-sided, love.”
“So, where do we go from here?” she asks, fidgeting with the band of her bag sitting across her chest.
“I think we owe it to ourselves to see where this goes,” I suggest, hoping she doesn’t shut the idea of more down. “I do have to admit something though. Alfie definitely already knows there’s something going on between us. At least on my end. He calls me out on it every single day.”
“If we’re being honest, I may have told my sister I was coming here to fuck you tonight,” she says, shrugging an apology.
The bluntness of her omission surprises me, but she continues.
“So, Alfie and Valentina know. Well, sort of. For now, we need to keep this under wraps. I can’t have my family—especially Lina—getting attached to you. At least, not more than they already are. And work! We’ll have to figure that out too. That’s a whole different conversation we can leave for another time that isn’t now.”
“I respect that.” I nod, understanding her need to keep things low-key. As much as I wish I could shout from the rooftops that she’s my girl, there’s a lot at stake right now. Too many important things hanging in the balance. “Can I still come to dinner on Sunday?”
“Yes,” she says, with a small laugh. “My nonna’s expecting you now.”
“One more question,” I tell her, pulling her close to me. “Can I kiss you yet?”
“You bloody better.”
26
Carina
It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I’ve seen Ryan, but twice as long since I’ve been able to kiss or touch him.
His appearance at Lina’s soccer game yesterday had been a surprise.
Even more surprising was the restraint it took to keep things cordial in the presence of my family members, Ana, and Richard—who was suddenly making a habit out of being present for Lina’s games.
And we still have to spend the whole afternoon together. In close proximity.
From the moment the doorbell of my grandparents’ house rang—the sound foreign to all of us that just walk right in—all eyes have been on Ryan and Alfie.
I’ve been hanging back, watching nervously as Luca took it upon himself to introduce them to my uncles and the cousins that hadn’t gone to Retro. When Luca got to where my father was standing, I had to walk out of the room. He was overcome with emotion as he clasped both of their hands like they were his heroes, thanking them for “giving his baby girl her dream life.”
Returning to the kitchen, I’m met with a look of concern from my grandmother.
“Carina, mi piccolina, how you supposed to marry a man that cannot eat pasta?”
Her broken English is normally adorable, but in this moment, I feel the pressure of her question. A small, low chuckle escapes me, the grin on my face quickly disappearing when I look to see that she is not only not smiling back at me, but is also watching me cautiously, waiting for my response.
Knowing we are an Italian family and not wanting to offend anyone if he didn’t eat something placed in front of him, Ryan let me know yesterday that he has a severe allergy to pasta. There’s something in the combination of the ingredients that makes him physically ill to the point of vomiting.
I assured him that he would still have plenty of options. My grandmother, mom, and aunts never allow a Sunday dinner without multiple options to choose from. Just to cover my bases, I gave my nonna a heads up, but our conversation was interrupted by the doorbell that announced Alfie and Ryan’s arrival.
“Nonna, Ryan is my boss. It doesn’t matter what he can or cannot eat. He’s here today because Mom invited him.” The guilt that fills me as I lie to my precious and perfect grandmother makes me feel sick to my stomach. I’m the one that wants to keep things low-key. And, regardless of whatever is going on between us, marriage is the last thing we need to be talking about in this kitchen right now. “And, please, for the love of God, do not mention marriage again.”
“I don’t know, Carina,” Olivia pipes up from across the extended counter intended to be used as a breakfast bar, the couple feet of granite instead used as more space to prepare food for our ever-growing family. A sly smirk spreads across her face as she nudges my sister next to her. “You are getting up there.”