Page 15 of Worship

Dante: Do you have to refer to her as tits? I’ll choke you if you say shit like that again. Have some respect.

Me: Touchy…What’s her name?

Dante: Never mind, I change my mind. I don’t want her to meet you. You’re too much of a dick.

Me: True. See you guys tomorrow.

The waiter delivers a small plate of nuts and olives, and I smile my appreciation. Taking another swig of my drink, I can’t help but think about how fucked tomorrow is going to be. My brothers are happy, pairing up, living their lives, and mine has broken, irrevocably.

I’ll never bring Shelby to another family event. Not that it ever mattered—she always complained that Drew was cold to her or that she felt out of place.She was right, on both accounts.

I grab an olive and pop it into my mouth, checking the time on my phone to make sure I won’t be late for my meeting. My thoughts keep swirling about Shelby and how she doesn’t deserve the family she’s been given.

Especially when I can think of someone I’d rather be around.What does Gretchen do on a Sunday? Who does she do Sunday dinners with?

Fuck these thoughts. They’re always there, waiting, seemingly innocent but made of sin. Exactly like her.

My drink is emptied in one gulp, just as my risotto arrives. I tuck in to my meal, switching gears in my mind and focusing on my meeting. But I can’t fucking focus. All I can think about is how Gretchen is alone on Sunday. I hate it. I barely know this girl, but I want to take that day away from her, take away one day of the loneliness she must feel.

I know what that feels like. We’re kindred, her and I. Grabbing my phone again, I let my fingers fly over the keys before I reason with myself.

Me: Come to Sunday dinner at Drew & Dom’s.

This isn’t what you do when you’re trying to fuck someone, Luca.

Gretchen: Twice in one day. Amazing. I can’t, I have plans, but thanks.

Me: What plans?

Gretchen: My plans.

Me: It’s family dinner. You’re family for Drew. Why haven’t you been there before?

Gretchen: Honestly, because I feel like it will be as if I’m being set up with Dante. I’m not down. Not my type.

I can’t help but laugh out loud. I’d have to hold him underwater if he was her type.

Me: I’ll be alone too.

Gretchen: Why?

It’s an easy question to answer. I can say Shelby is out of town. Easy. But my fingers don’t get the memo. I haven’t lied to her once. I’m not starting now.

Me: Because I don’t want Shelby with me. At dinner or at all.

The bubbles pop up and go away. I’m already regretting what I said when her response dings.

Gretchen: Are you bringing Ella?

I smile. I’m not remotely against using Ella as bait.

Me: See you tomorrow.

I didn’t think this little plan through. How the fuck am I going to tell Dominic that I invited Gretchen to dinner without all the questions that will follow? I might be willing to answer her questions, but I don’t have the patience for my brothers.

Impulse control, Luca.Fucking impulse control. I throw a few large bills down on the table, more than enough to cover whatever the bill is plus a generous tip and head out of Mama’s, giving Sophia a kiss before I go.

LUCA TEXTED ME ABOUT DINNERjust as I was sitting in the back of the Uber I ordered for tonight. If I’d wondered if he was doing something sneaky, then I just got my answer. Nobody invites you to have dinner with everyone you both know, and who also knows your wife. I guess this means Luca and I are friends. It makes sense—I do get him in a way that only someone else broken can.