Page 14 of Love Like Lightning

“Tell me something.” Gia’s quiet voice washes over me.

I close my eyes and breathe her in. “What do you want to know?”

She hums and shifts against me to get more comfortable. “Anything. Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”

“I’m the youngest of five siblings.” It’s almost a reflex to give her that fun fact. My family has always been the most important thing in my life. And truthfully, being the youngest has always been a distinct part of my personality. Whether I liked it or not.

"Wow, really? I’m an only child.”

“Must be nice.” The response is a gut reaction, and I don’t really mean it. I’ve thought about what my life would be like if I were an only child, and as much as my family can get on my nerves, I don’t think I’d like it. “I think I told you I was the handyman in Ever Lake? I’ve actually expanded recently. I’m working in a lot of the surrounding towns too.”

I don’t know why I tell her more about my job. I don’t add that I’m looking to finally hire someone to work with me because things have been so busy the last couple of years. Just the memory of what my family said when I mentioned it keeps that small detail locked up tight.

“You like what you do?” She shifts slightly, snuggling in closer, and I tighten my arms around her some more.

“I love it. I’ve been doing it for years. It’s all I’ve really done.”

“How old are you?” There’s a subtle trepidation in her voice and I wonder if maybe we should have had this conversation before hopping into bed.

“Twenty-four. Does that bother you?” I hold my breath, suddenly worried. Laughter shakes her body and, by proxy, mine. Leaning forward, I drop my head to her neck and pepper it with kisses. “What’s so funny?”

“No, nothing. That doesn’t bother me, but I’m twenty-seven if that matters. Almost twenty-eight.” Her voice is low, sleepy, and I close my eyes to enjoy how it sounds in my ears.

“Hot. I’ve got a cougar in my bed,” I joke, letting my eyes stay closed as exhaustion takes over.

“Ha ha. It’s really impressive that you’ve got your own business up and running and successful so young.”

“So young?” If I weren’t so tired, I’d maybe pretend to be more offended, but my brain is snagged on her calling me successful.

“Doing anything like that in your twenties is a huge accomplishment.” Her words start slurring together as her breath slows.

“Well shit, Gia. Thanks.”

She doesn’t respond, but her body relaxes even further against me. As I let myself drift off too, I can’t help but keep her in my arms. I don’t know if it’s because I just love the way she feels against me or if I’m somehow holding onto her praise of my business.

Either way, I fall asleep holding onto Gia and feeling better than I’ve felt in a long time.

6

Gianna

February

I shove my hip against my apartment door to get it to unstick and tumble into my apartment. I try not to drop anything, but I’m juggling my groceries and my bag while cradling my phone in the crook of my shoulder.

“I’m on my way. You got the goods?” my cousin and best friend, Simone, asks.

I kick my door shut behind me and shuffle into my apartment. Dropping my work bag next to the small gray couch, I lug my groceries to the kitchen to put them away.

“If you mean those tiny mozzarella balls and the chocolate-covered pretzels, then yes, I’ve got the goods.” I smile into the phone as I place the tote bags full of food on the counter. “I’m going to put everything away. You’ve still got your key right?”

“Yup. I’ll be there in ten, so buckle up. I hear Shonda’s really going to be playing with our emotions again.” She ends the call before I can respond, but I groan anyway.

I’m not even sure why we continue watching these shows. It’s been over a decade, and all Grey’s Anatomy does is cause us emotional turmoil.

And yet here I am, setting up for our weekly watch party. Luckily, we’ve got the most recent season of Bridgerton to stream after. Hopefully, that’ll lighten the mood.

Swinging the door of my fridge open, I start putting some food away. I leave everything that doesn’t require refrigeration on the counter for easy access. I take a cursory look around my small apartment. It’s cozy but cluttered. The sweatshirt I wore Monday is still thrown across the back of my couch, my shoes are piled against the wall next to my TV stand, and the box of donations I put together last month is still sitting on my small dining room table.

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