After a while, I drove her back to my house. She wanted to hear everything—where I had been, what had happened to me, why I suddenly resurfaced.
When we got inside, the first thing I did was check on Gianni. She followed quietly behind me, eyes moving around the room like she was trying to piece my entire life together.
I felt her standing behind me—that strange tightening in my chest I always felt when someone looked at him too closely. I didn’t know if I was ready to tell her. If I even could.
“He’s beautiful,” she whispered. “And sharp too. I saw him the other day at the store. I’m sure he gives you a headache .” She laughed softly.
“Yes…” I smiled, nervous, still debating with myself. “He’s Gianni,” I said. My voice cracked slightly.
“Gianni,” she repeated, nodding.
I sat down on
