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Not assholes like Fabiano. That little skirmish was nothing. Just me reacting to noise on pure muscle memory.
But Molly…
She may as well have been a fucking spaceship, and nothing in my toolbox was equipped to handle her.
Nico said I was fifty percent temper, fifty percent bullshit.
The perfect combination for a Moretti capo.
To be whatever the fuck I needed and wanted to be for Molly was beyond me.
That was why it had taken me so long to approach her. I’d been gone the first time I’d seen her at Carlo’s. Dazed in an instant and hooked beyond reason. It pained me to admit it, but Molly affected me like no one else ever had.
Maybe no one else ever would.
And that was something I couldn’t allow.
I needed to keep my distance. It was the only way I could try to maintain my equilibrium. If I wasn’t careful, I’d do something stupid, something unforgivable, like fall in love with her.
I intended to start today. When we reached Molly’s place, I prepared to leave her. Usually, I’d come up, but I didn’t trust myself with that right now.
“So,” Molly said when she reached the building’s steps. Molly studied me like she sensed something was up, but I wouldn’t confirm or deny that.
“So what?” I said, still distant from her.
“You look like you have something on your mind, Enzo. If there’s something you need to say, say it,” she said.
“If I have something to say, I will,” I countered.
“Good,” she said, giving me her dazzling smile. “I'm glad that we agree. So say it.”
“You’re such a fucking headache.” I sighed.
She shrugged.
“Pot, kettle, etc.” Her lips lifted in a slight smile before she turned serious. “What’s on your mind?”
Clearly, she wasn’t going to let this go.
“Let’s go upstairs and talk,” I said.
“Come on.” She started to walk, and I followed behind her, wondering how the hell this had happened. After all that bullshit about keeping my distance, and here I was.
Molly closed her door, and then went to the kitchen. I followed behind her and took the glass she handed me. She made this awesome flavored water with fruit and mint. It was delicious, sweet, a little spicy, refreshing.
Just like the woman herself.
I looked around Molly’s kitchen and was again struck by the comfort I felt here. The entire apartment smelled faintly of lemons, the smell stronger here in her kitchen. I assumed it waswhatever cleaner she used to keep the place spotless. I’d never seen her clean, but the only time there was ever anything out of place was because I’d moved it. From the chipped mug Molly held to the plush orange mat in front of the sink, everything about this place was Molly. I treasured it.
Molly took a sip of her own water and then sat her mug on the counter. She looked at me, clearly waiting.
Surprisingly patient.
I took a deep breath, then met her eyes.
“Did I scare you today?” I asked.
I tried to keep my voice strong, but at the end, I trailed off, became a little more quiet than I ordinarily would have been.