TWELVE
HOW IS THIS PICKING ME UP?
Lea
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I sat at my desk-turned-vanity, putting the final touches on my hair with a flatiron when the familiar sound of rocks hitting my window came for the second time that day.
I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. It was six fifty, and I had ten minutes before Michael was supposed to be picking me up.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I huffed and got up to go to the window and was immediately struck by déjà vu.
It was him, of course. He’d swapped out the hoodie for the white button-up and wool coat he’d worn to my grandparents’ the other night. It was quickly becoming evident that Michael had two, maybe three sets of clothes besides the coveralls he wore at the garage. I liked this one the best.
“You ready?” he called once I’d lifted the window and popped my head out.
“Are you serious?” I called back. “How is this ‘picking me up’? This is supposed to be a real date, Michael. Otherwise, it doesn’t count.”
“Oh, it’s gonna count,” he said with a delicious smirk. “Come down when you’re ready, contessa. I’ll be waiting out front.”
He didn’t wait for me to answer; he just took off down the alley back toward the main street. With a huff, I closed the window.
“‘Come down when you’re ready,’” I muttered. “How about you come in like a gentleman?”
I put in my earrings and took one last look at myself in the mirror Kate and I kept over our bedroom door. I looked good. Nothing fancy—the black pants Kate had teased me about this morning, the Timberlands I’d gotten for Christmas, and my pink puffer jacket that made my waist look tiny. But I’d done my eyeliner like the night before and had taken some extra time to iron my hair perfectly straight. Michael said this was our only date, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for him to walk away.
Nonna and Nonno were enjoying aperitivi in the kitchen, overseeing Joni and Marie as the girls drew and bickered at the dining table. Kate had gone to a friend’s house for the night, and I was guessing that Frankie was lost in a book, taking advantage of having the room she shared with the two littles to herself for once.
It was the perfect moment to pop out of the house without causing a ruckus.
Michael was pacing on the sidewalk and practically jumped when I opened the door.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “This is not how you start a proper date.”
“Lea?” Nonna’s voice sounded from within. “Did you open the door?”
Michael looked absolutely terrified. “Tell them you’re going to a friend’s. I’ll wait.”
I frowned. “Why? My grandparents already know you. You should come in to say hello.”
He shook his head several times. “Nah, better not to give them the wrong idea. We’re only doing this once, remember?”
I huffed. This was more than annoying. Eventually, I’d have to teach the boy some manners, but we’d get there. I was already sure of it. “Whatever you say. Wait here.”
I ducked back inside and walked into the kitchen.
Joni’s eyes grew as big as the moon. “Woah, your hair. Where are you going?”
I ignored her and called to Nonna, who was blushing while her husband murmured sweet nothings into her ear. Or, knowing my rascally grandfather, not so sweet.
Good, they were a little sauced. That would work in my favor.
“Nonno, I’m going out with a friend. I won’t be out late.”
Nonna opened her mouth as if to argue but was stopped when Nonno cut her off with a quick Italian phrase. I wasn’t even close to fluent, but I knew enough to decipher that his meaning was something like, “With fewer mice in the house, the cats can play.”