“I know!” She cackles in a way only an evil little sister could, and I laugh at her devious side. “So.” She smacks my door lightly and states, “It’s decided. You’re coming and being my partner in crime.”
“Seems to be my roll these days,” I reply and step out of the truck after rolling up my windows, I carefully lay the application on the passenger seat away from prying eyes. Viv looks at me and smiles when I get out and say, “I think I like it.”
Then she links her arm through mine and we head up to drag Enzo to their mother’s for an interesting round of childhood memory torture.
It was as funny as Viviana wanted it to be.
We’d taken Enzo’s car and driven from the loft—which was walking distance to Viv’s apartment, at about five blocks—to the Capello family home in Arvada, Colorado. In recent years, this little city has turned into a flourishing one. No one corner looked the same these days.
It took about thirty minutes to get to their house, and I felt my chest expand when we came into view of the house I’d called home for several years.
What made it better was the people inside.
We climb out, already hearing the music coming from the backyard, and make our way to the side gate to join the party.
We’ve just stepped into the yard when Enzo stops dead in his tracks.
“Who the hell is that?” His question wasn’t accusatory but awed, like he’d been struck by a zap of lightning.
“Who?” Viviana asks, coming to stand between us. I fight the urge to grab her hand.
“The redhead,” Enzo answers, and I hold back an immediate laugh. I don’t precisely know if the redhead whose back is to us is the infamous Nora Miller that Viv reminded me of, but there weren’t any other redheads like that that I remembered were related to the Capello family.
“Oh,” Viv says, nodding her head, a slow, sly grin spreading across her face.
She grips my hand unexpectedly and my attention rips from the view in front of us, startled. Peering up at me, she nods, confirming it’s Nora, I’m sure, but I’m too distracted and squeeze back, holding on to her hand tighter.
“Come on,” Enzo says to us, making a beeline for the redhead.
As we near, I see that she’s talking to Teresa Capello, the stand-in mother that did what mine couldn’t. I smile just at the sight of her. Beside her is another older woman. If I had to guess, I would say it’s Nora’s mother.
“—and how do you like it so far?” We hear Teresa ask.
“Oh, I haven’t had a chance—”
“Ma,” Enzo interrupts, and Viv and I have the good sense to make our way to the side of the group, both of us watching Enzo’s face.
Again, Viv squeezes my hand, and I return the gesture.
“Lorenzo!” Teresa says gleefully, walking around Nora to give him a tight hug. He returns it but his eyes watch Nora and when he sees her face, well, it’s how I imagine mine is when I look at Viviana.
Completely fucking gone.
“Uh-oh,” Viv whispers as she witnesses what I see.
“Hi.” Enzo smiles and it’s not his cocky “I can get whatever I want” grin, it’s a genuine “want to know you” one. “I’m—”
“Lorenzo Capello,” she replies, a smile on her face that could be called neither nice nor mean, just kind of… indifferent.
“Yeah.” His brows turn quizzical and he studies her. “Do I know you?”
She scoffs lightly and crosses her arms. “Nora Miller.”
We watch the blood absolutely drain from Enzo’s face until he no longer looks like the good little Italian boy, more like a bubble boy who had never seen the sun.
“What the—”
Chapter Seven