“I am not.” He stared me down across the table in the crowded French restaurant and I rolled my eyes lightly then quietly amended, “It’s nothing.”
God, he looked great tonight. He’d put away his suits and dressed in smart casual for our date night. When he walked down the stairs in gunmetal grey tailored trousers that looked like they’d been painted onto his strong legs, a dove-colored cashmere sweater that hugged his muscled chest and a pair of masculine black boots while fiddling with his watch, my core clenched damn near painfully and I almost choked on my tongue.
My own high-waisted linen pants, plain white blouse and black pumps combo seemed drab in comparison, but when he glanced at me and did a double take, we stood a few feet apart and his heated gaze swept my body appreciatively. And my insides turned to goop.
I couldn’t understand how he had the ability to make me feel so beautiful without a single word spoken.
It was magic.
“Tell me,” Tor commanded as he reached into the ice bucket and topped up my champagne glass.
“Okay,” I sighed in mock annoyance, but I really did want to share. “I picked up Ella from practice. I got there a little early because, as you know, I’m terrified of her.” Tor chuckled softly and I smiled. “It was a minute to and I got out of the car, waiting for her. And when the girls got out, they came out chatting. Ella spotted me and said, ‘That’s me.’” My stomach clenched lightly as I went on, “And one of her friends said, ‘Who’s that?’” I cleared my throat and tried to speak past the thickness of it. “Ella was walking towards me and she called back, ‘That’s my stepmom.’”
Shit. I was about a second out from blubbering.
Across the table, Tor’s face softened.
I laughed then sniffled, then my shoulders bounced in a tiny self-conscious shrug. “That’s all.”
When he smiled at me in the way I always wished he would – warmly, lovingly – my own wobbled and I bit my bottom lip to stop it.
He reached across the table and lifted my glass. I took it from him and he lifted his own, holding it out to me. I felt a little silly as he forced us to celebrate, our glasses touched and gentle clink felt like a victory. I wondered why it was important, but the answer was sitting right there in front of me.
My wins were also his.
Our gazes locked as we sipped on high-end champagne.
And, sure, we had a long way to go, but we had to acknowledge how far we’d come.
* * *
Whenever I wentthrough a relatively easy stage of my life, I could always count on something to come and mess it up. So, while basking in our temporary bliss, the hairs that stood on the back of my neck never truly calmed. And as predicted, I was soon reminded of why.
I stood at the top of the stairs when I heard them.
Giada was talking low to her brother and I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but when I heard what my sister-in-law said, my chest immediately grew tight. “You heard Roam. He wasn’t messing around. She is oversteppingagain,” she emphasized the word, “and you know better than I do that if she does that with Roam, he’s going to fire a warning shot right into her head. Tor, you have to do something. She’s going to get herself killed.”
My eyes widened as I froze in my tracks.
Who?
“How do you even know about this?” Tor huffed out, aggravated.
Giada kept quiet a moment before she merely said, “Sammy.”
“He should not have told you that,” was my husband’s peeved reply.
“Well, I’m glad he did,” The usually sweet Giada snapped. “What are you going to do about it, Ettore?” Oh damn. She was using his real name. Even I knew that was bad. “What she’s doing is suicide.”
Tor, however, brushed off Giada’s concern with a cool, “How is that my problem?”
“You have to tell her.”
Tor scoffed. “Actually, I don’t.”
Giada took a deep breath before she started anew, “She’s still her sister. There’s still a way out of this. Vittoria needs to know.”
And it clicked.