Page 38 of The Crowned Garza

Instinct has me popping over to Dom’s Instagram profile. Sure enough, his most recent post is that photo, captioned:Gonna marry her one day.

This freaking dude. How many times must I tell him not to post me on his damn social media profiles? What the hell’s wrong with him?

Me:We’re not in a relationship.

Fraud:No? So you just let anyone inside you?

Me:He’s not ‘just anyone.’ We’re just not in a RELATIONSHIP.

Fraud:Does he know that? He’s talking about marriage.

Me:Why are you even on his page?

Fraud:Scoping.

Me:Why?

Fraud:Because I have 999 problems and you’re all of them.

Me:What?

Me:What does that mean?

I stare at my phone, waiting with bated breath for a response, but it doesn’t come.

What a strange exchange. Less than an hour ago, he told me off and sped out of here. And after what happened back at his loft, I have every intention of avoiding him for a while, which I assume he’ll appreciate. So what’s his deal now?

Backing up from the path to the kitchen, I tap on his number to call him.

“Make good choices.”

Mom’s words from our conversation earlier float into my head, giving me pause. I’ve never been good at making the right choices or playing it safe. But maybe…maybe I should try harder.

Pocketing my phone, I start toward the kitchen again.

I make it all of three steps before I stop and get my phone out.

Me:What if the person I’m dating doesn’t excite me enough to make it into my fantasies when I’m chasing an O?

Fraud:Find a new person.

Me:What if I want that person to be you?

Knowing he won’t respond, I don’t bother waiting for an answer. I pocket my phone and continue to the kitchen with a smile, feeling surprisingly lighter now that it’s off my chest, now that he knows without a doubt I’m into him.

It’s a gamble. But, as established, I’ve never been good at making sensible decisions.

CHAPTER NINE

“Hang tight.”

Santo

“WHY WERE THE MORETTIShere today?” I ask from Papa’s bedroom doorway.

Propped up against the headboard, frail and drawn, he hacks a cough into his handkerchief. “Does any goddamn thing happen on this goddamn estate without you knowing? Anyone would think my men are more loyal to you than to me.”

I walk in and take a seat in the tufted armchair near his bed. “La famigliais loyal tola famiglia.”