Page 111 of Love Him Like Water

“What’s your favorite thing?”

“Anything you make with me in mind,” he said, and there was a raw kind of vulnerability in his voice that made my heart ache, knowing that this man, who showed so much potential for goodness and kindness, had likely known none of that in his own life.

Well, those days were done.

He would know all of that and more with me.

We talked then as we ate, a little clumsily at first—neither of us seemingly accustomed to this whole ‘getting to know you’ thing—but finding a rhythm eventually as we talked about my childhood. What it was like to have so many overprotective older brothers, how I lost my mom so young, how my father had gathered his grief and managed to be both parents to us afterward.

“Where did your name come from?” Renzo asked, watching me dip my fries with a shake of his head.

Ketchup is for fries, he’d insisted.

Ketchup is for grilled cheese, I’d countered.

“It’s not a traditional Italian name,” he added.

“No. My brothers all got the traditional names. But my mom insisted on naming me. Lore. Like… traditions or information held by a certain group of people. She told me that girls are the ‘family keepers,’ or the keepers of the family’s ‘lore.’”

“Like with the cooking,” he said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “And a bunch of other little things I remind my brothers of or little traditions we had when she was alive that she learned from her family.”

“Shit you’ll teach our kids?” he asked.

“Yeah, definitely. This place is going to look great with Christmas lights,” I said, glancing around at all the potential. The balconies, especially, could be draped in greenery and lights. The whole place would sparkle.

“Don’t remember the last time I even had a Christmas tree,” he admitted.

“Well, you won’t have too long of a wait. But first, we have to plan Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, we do,” he agreed, seeming to like that word as much as I did.

After dinner, we stripped out of our clothes, fell into bed, and into each other again, making up for lost time.

Before he pulled me onto his chest, holding me like he knew I liked.

It was the longest span of time I’d spent with Renzo since we’d married.

And it was even better than all the fantasies I’d dreamed up.

As I drifted to sleep in his arms, I was sure that nothing could ever ruin what was growing between us.

I would, of course, be proven painfully wrong.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Renzo

I never had a reason before to want to rush home.

But as we questioned the kid for a third day, I could barely keep my mind on the task.

All I could think about was going home, walking through the door, and finding Lore there waiting for me. A new understanding between us.

Shit had changed so quickly.

Just one full night with her, watching how she came out of her shell little by little as we talked, making her more animated and expressive, her words often tripping over each other to rush out.

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