“That’s sweet…” My eyes softened. “What’s he like?”
“He’s good-looking, likes sports. He’s a cardiologist. He was the one that insisted on meeting me. That told me he was serious about her. He seems laid-back and confident, which I like. He didn’t bend over backward and kiss my ass. No performance, no humble bragging.”
“And you don’t want your sister’s boyfriend to kiss your ass?”
He shook his head. “I want her to be with a man who doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him.”
I smiled. “That’s really nice.”
“He didn’t seem to change his behavior around me either. He called her baby. He teased her. Stuff like that.”
“What would you have done if you didn’t like him?”
He rested his hand on top of his glass. “Nothing.”
“Really?”
“I don’t have to like him to respect her choice. Now, if he were some abusive jerk, that’s a totally different story. But that’s pretty hard to pick up on during an initial meeting. But I don’t think that will be a problem with William.”
“Is this the first boyfriend you’ve met or something?”
He nodded. “Other than high school boyfriends, yes. You know, the first serious one. And she told me she sees herself marrying him, so I think he’s the one.”
“Does she seem happy?”
“She was such a nervous wreck at dinner that it’s hard to tell, but I’d imagine so.” He drank from his glass and continued to look across the yard.
“I’ll interview her next. See what she dishes about you.”
“She’ll take my secrets to the grave.” He gave me a slight smile.
“You have secrets that need to be taken to the grave?” I teased.
“A real man always has secrets.”
“Care to share?”
He chuckled and let his gaze wander across the yard. “Alright…but you’re going to judge me for this.”
“I really doubt it. I’m not a judgmental person.”
“When I was in college, I had a fling with one of my mother’s friends. Renee caught me.”
“Whoa, what?” I straightened in the chair and cupped my mouth. “You did not.”
“She was younger than my mom, obviously,” he said with a chuckle.
“But she wasn’t twenty.”
“No…more like thirty-five.”
I laughed. “Did your mother ever find out?”
“Nope. Renee never told her.”
“What if she had?”
He shrugged. “My mom probably would have cut that woman out of her life.”
“Do you still see her?”
“Last time was at the funeral. But she’s in her forties now and married.”
“Wow. I guess she taught you a few things.”
“Actually, yes.”
He was good at fucking, and he must have learned it somewhere.
“Quite a secret, huh?”
“Yeah. I’m impressed.”
“You got any secrets? Something you haven’t even told Charlie?”
“Wow…we’re having this conversation while drinking water.”
He relaxed back into the chair, his elbow propped on the armrests. The shade of the umbrella covered us both, and it was a nice color on him, making his tanned skin seem even darker. His fingers rubbed across his temple as he glanced back at the house. “My father used to collect scotch, but I’ll never get us home safe if I open his storage.”
“True. We’ll stick with the water.”
“Now, tell me.”
I grinned in embarrassment, unable to believe I was going to share something I’d never even told my best friend. I didn’t tell Kat or Denise either. “So, you know I kinda have this casual relationship with the mafia?”
“Yes.” His eyes narrowed at the serious subject matter.
“Well, they had this big get-together at one of their restaurants, and they invited me. I met one of their guys, and we hit it off. We saw each other for a couple weeks, but when he became too attached, I ended it.”
“You slept with a guy in the Italian mob?”
I nodded.
“And Charlie doesn’t know?”
“Oh, he’d kill me. My sister would too.”
“So, I’m the only person in the world who knows.”
“Yep.”
“You really are fearless.” He gave me an incredulous look, but it was filled with a hint of affection.
“Look, I don’t want a boring funeral. I want people to talk about my fling with the Italian mob, the fight I had with an Iraqi soldier, how I kicked some guy’s ass in an alleyway. I want my death to remind everyone how much I lived.”
He stared at me for a long time, letting those words sink in. “I respect that. But that also means you plan to tell people about this affair.”
“Someday…but not anytime soon.”
“And how was it with the guy?”
“The sex?” I asked, surprised he’d ask.
“Yeah. Is having sex with a criminal different from with a law-abiding citizen?”
“In general, it was definitely more aggressive, but more passionate because he’s an Italian man with a sexy accent. But best sex I’ve ever had? Not necessarily. This was right after my divorce, so I was being reckless, more than usual, at least.”
His fingers rested under his chin as he leaned my way slightly and watched me. “Then, is the best sex you’ve ever had with a porn star?”
“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of bedding a professional…”
“Prince of Wales?”
I chuckled. “No. I asked him out, but he shot me down.”
He grinned. “Biggest mistake of his life.”
“Well, he’s married, so he made the right choice.”
“Ask out a lot of married guys?”
I knew how shitty it was to be cheated on, so I would never do that to another person. I’d had some really sexy guys come on to me, but their wedding rings were such a turn-off I wanted to throw up. “Never. Not my thing.”
“Me neither.”
I turned my gaze and looked across the yard, at the pink rose bushes under one of the oak trees.
He stared at me.
I could feel his look, so I shifted my gaze back to his.
His fingers brushed across his chin. “I’ve been with some incredible women, but you’re the best I’ve ever had.” He said the words simply, without a hint of hesitation, like my discomfort meant nothing to him.
I didn’t know what to say, so I stared back, my heart picking up in response to his words. He was the best I’d ever had too, but I refused to say it out loud. A part of me didn’t believe what he said, that it was just a line, but now that a relationship was off the table, there was no incentive to give me false praise.
“I’m not in the Italian mob and I’ve never held a gun, so I’m probably not the most exciting lover you’ve ever had—”
“Shut up, you know you are.”
He didn’t smile in triumph. His eyes remained serious, his fingers stilling against his chin. “Really?”