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“If you want to dress differently, do it. If you don’t, that’s fine too. You’re strong no matter what you wear.”
She’d never wanted to wear a dress again. Something in her gut swirled even considering the possibility.
“Now, answer the question. Have you had sex with someone else since?” Montrell’s face set in a scowl that didn’t fit him at all.
“I’m working on it.” Vespa wondered what expression he’d make if she confessed who she had had sex with. She bit her lip, unable to admit to it.
He studied her, his eyes shuttered. “I’m still fucking sorry. None of this is right. If I had—”
She tugged on his beard, hard enough to make him yelp. “I told you not to do that. Winning that fight on my own, it was important to me.” She folded her arms, staring him down. “Don’t you take that victory away from me.”
His brown eyes softened, as if some of the cobwebs cleared. “All right. I’m proud of you, Ves.”
She nodded. “Damn right you are.” Her smile felt lopsided, but that was fine.
He tilted his head. “What does ‘working on it’ mean?”
She blew air out between her teeth. “Are we still on this?”
“Well, I never see you go out, and it’s not like you have a ton of friends.” He grinned at her. “I could help or something if you need company?”
His offer made her think about how Antonio had also volunteered to be her wingman. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so terrible if she’d texted back a word or two last night instead of that stupid thumbs-up. “You’re way too interested in my love life now. Don’t you have your own problems in that area?” She bent to pick up the last chair, which was still intact. “Your wife might have an opinion on you going barhopping with me.”
He froze, staring off into space. He’d been doing that a lot more since he’d gotten married. “Seriously, Ves,” he mumbled, “how bad did I screw up today?”
She punched him in the arm and was happy when he winced. “You’ll have to go to that dinner with her, the one Giulia suggested, and figure it out.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on. We can go spar for a bit so you don’t obsess over it all afternoon.” She cracked her knuckles, heading to the door. “I need to hit something after all that blubbering.”
He groaned behind her, but there was almost a smile on his face when she turned to look. That was good enough.
Chapter 8
Vespa shifted her legs, hating the way the fabric slithered. Fucking hell. She shouldn’t have dug out the dress.
That she owned it at all was Giulia’s fault. Giulia bought her a birthday present every year. When one had been a black dress, Vespa had tried to get her to return it, but Giulia refused, and the thing had ended up shoved to the back of the closet. She had to admit, whatever material it was that avoided wrinkling after years in that condition was as impressive as Kevlar.
Her boots looked odd propped up on the metal ledge of the barstool. They weren’t the heeled ones, but her comfiest pair. The gun hadn’t been concealed enough at her ankle without pants, so she’d strapped it to her thigh, which made it harder to cross her legs. She’d also left her hair down. She blew at the strand that tickled her face, more uncomfortable than she’d ever been.
Out of all her stupid ideas, this one topped the list. She was an idiot, just like Montrell.
She fiddled with her phone until it lit up so she could check the time. Her best friend would be at dinner with his wife by now. She had wished him luck in smoothing things over. She hadn’t been around many marriages, but she imagined they were constantly like that. People getting annoyed and then apologizing, with a side possibility of makeup sex.
The thought of sex had her unlocking the phone to stare at the opened text. Her thumbs-up emoji made her wince. That had been an obnoxious choice, but whatever. She considered reaching out to Antonio. He’d told her to, though it was her own damn decision to make. She’d managed to have sex with him not once but twice. It might be easier to continue with the same person.
Continuing with Di Salvo would be like self-sabotage, though. The meeting among the families was soon, and he would probably smirk at her and say something.
She flipped the phone screen upside down. The ginger ale she’d ordered bubbled back at her as she stared. The glass slid in its own puddle of condensation as she pushed it aside and motioned to the bartender for a shot of something stronger.
When she threw back the whiskey, liking the heat and burn, someone jostled her elbow. Annoyed but willing to at least check out whoever it was before snapping, she turned her head, figuring the jostling deserved her adding a bit of teeth to her smile.
The bleached blond from the night before, the one who’d once hooked up with Antonio, smiled back at her hesitantly.
Her eyebrow lifted. “You’ve got a habit of bumping my arm.”
He laughed nervously, those soft, brown eyes crinkling at the edges. “Shoot, you’re right. Sorry about that.” He nodded to the empty shot glass. “Buy you a drink to make up for it?”
She could see why Di Salvo might have gone for him. His body looked good, even in khakis and a polo shirt that showed off decent upper arms. He had a cute smile. “Why not?” she said, watching him as he flagged down the bartender.
She wondered if he was hitting on her and how she felt about that if he was. Would it be weird to sleep with someone who had slept with someone she had? Even wondering about it made her head hurt.
