It’s easy to slip out of Gio’s arms. He’s not quite the light sleeper he used to be. Max hugs me and pets my hair. “We’ll go to the grave yard tomorrow before going to your father.”
“Do the cameras have sound?”
He shakes his head. “I just know.”
Of course, he does. We sit in the basement together and I take a shot when he does. He sighs. “It’s not easy, doll. I’d be lying if I say it ever getseasy, but it gets better.”
“Really?”
“It does. You must have noticed that. From thinking about her daily to weekly, and then a week goes by and you don’t think about her.”
“Which made me feel guilty as hell,” I grumble.
“Of course, which starts the upset all over again.” He smiles slightly and shakes his head. “But then it’s once a month, once a year, and holidays. Finally, it gets to be once a year and on big events.”
“I’m sorry if I’m making you relive things,” I say.
“You’re not.” He pats my hand. “I’ll still bully your father as necessary. I have plenty of experience there. I can bring him alcohol tonight, get him so drunk he passes out and then he won’t be able to do anything but fight the hangover.”
It’s a weird offer, but sweet. Max seems to ride that line well. I can tell he means the best, but sometimes his words don’t match with the intentions. I play with my shot glass. “Do you remember your parents?”
“Not as well as I wish I did. I mostly remember my grandmother. She showed me pictures of my parents, and would tell me stories. She was plenty upset when she got sick before I graduated high school.”
“That early?” I gape.
He shrugs, but I see the pain in his eyes.
I get up, walk around the bar and hug Max. He pats my back. “Don’t go feeling sorry for me.”
“I’m sappy right now. Imagining seventeen year old you all alone.”
“I had a good inheritance.”
“That doesn’t make up for it,” I say.
He nods and we just hug each other for a long while. I know tomorrow is going to be hard on me. I’ve never had this much support to get through the day. Patricia has always gone above and beyond this time of year. She’s drank with me, distracted me, cried with me, let me cry, and rescued me from my father with emergencies.
But having these three men, all different, with different approaches and styles of affection ... not to mention their determination to protect me physically and emotionally from everything. Well, I’m a lucky woman.
“Patricia will probably want to see me. I feel terrible not seeing her.”
“You haven’t had the option,” Max reminds me. “she’ll forgive you.”
“Have you two been texting?” I draw back and arch an eyebrow. “Do I need to be worried?”
“You can be jealous,” Max smirks at me. “I don’t mind knowing you’re hot for me.”
I narrow my eyes. “Well, no one knows that you’re mine. Do I need to get a stick or a weapon to beat women away from you? “
“Let’s say you did ... would I be allowed to watch?”
“If you encourage it, it’s just as bad,” I remind him. “and I’ll be angry with you.”
“We can’t have that.” He kisses my forehead then pauses. “Have I kissed you today?”
“No.” I pout. “I thought you were punishing me for something.”
He kisses me softly, then pulls me closer against him and kisses me deeper. I melt into him, happy for the distraction, overwhelmed by the way he shares his emotions so physically and completely even though he can’t verbalize them all the time.