AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She takes the bag, careful not to actually make contact with my hand.
“You want me to keep this? Bag and all?”
I nod. Ada’s about to argue, but her eyes dart around the apartment. She doesn’t say anything, so she’s probably concluded (correctly) that I can afford to lose a bag and some clothing.
“I’ll email you tomorrow, and we can set up Thursday from there,” I say.
How does the woman manage to smell so good after a goddamn run?
“Sounds good. Just send an address, I’ll coordinate the team, and we’ll set a meeting time.”
“Depending on traffic, it’s about four hours.”
“So we can meet at the plant at ten or so? Or is that too early?”
“I’ll be there whenever you tell me to be there. If I’m late . . .” I can think of a lot of ways for Ada to punish me, but none of them are appropriate. We never really did address “this” head-on, but the understanding between us is clear.
Back to business.
As it should be.
But as I walk Ada to the door and she thanks me for the dry clothes, I can tell she wants to say something. So do I.
But what the hell is there to say?
We’re treading in extremely dangerous territory, especially after tonight.
After that kiss.
After her revelation that she can see right through me.
“I won’t be late,” I finish lamely. A promise, this time, I intend to keep.
* * *
“You’re all set for tomorrow?”Enzo asks.
I feel like a total piece of shit for not telling him about Ada—he doesn’t even know about our lunch last weekend—but since I don’t intend to repeat the colossal mistake I made three nights ago, I nod. I just don’t keep things from Enzo.
“Yep.” I change the subject, reaching for my beer. “I do like this place.”
“If the food is as good as last time, I think we should make this a regular thing.”
Faint Sinatra music is being piped through the restaurant. So far, I haven’t heard anything else. The owner is clearly a fan.
“You must feel right at home.”
Enzo’s dad lives and breathes Frank Sinatra. Born in Italy, he came to the U.S. as a teen, starting off in New York before settling in Pennsylvania, where Enzo was raised.
“I’ll have to bring my parents here for sure the next time they come visit.”
The waitress brings our dinners, putting them down and staring at Enzo for a little longer than necessary. “Can I get you anything else?”
“We’re good, thanks.”
I shoot Enzo a look before I dig into my aglio e olio. “I think she’s into you.”
He glances over to where the waitress has already disappeared into the back.
