Page 22 of Mob Princess

Which works better for you? Lunch or dinner?

Lina

Both. I like brunch too.

Does she mean…?

I hit the call button before I think twice.

“Hi, Sean.”

“Hi, Lina.”

There’s a pause. I called, but I don’t know what to say.

“I hope I’m not keeping you from getting work done. I didn’t think about whether you’d be in the middle of something when I texted. I don’t want to disturb you.”

“Cailín, I would have told you if I needed to go. I like texting, but I like hearing your voice more.”

Little girl. It’s not because of her build. Nothing about her makes me think of a child. But my heart ached for her the times I saw the sadness at the funeral. I wanted to shelter her and make everything better. I want her to turn to me. And that’s ludicrous.

“I like your voice. Just a touch of New York without sounding like Danny DeVito in My Cousin Vinny. ‘The two yutes.’”

“Vinny Gambini. That’s because I’m not a Guido. I don’t think I look that Italian.”

“No. You look very Irish.”

My chest tightens. We’re getting into even more dangerous ground. Did she look me up? She’d need my last name for that. Does she already know it?

“Haha. At least the green eyes ensured I never got pinched on St. Paddy’s Day.”

“Do green eyes count as wearing something green?”

“When you’re half a head taller than most of your classmates all the way to graduation, it counted if I said so.”

“You are rather tall.”

I’m over six feet. Somewhere between six-two and six-three. Depends on the haircut.

“It has its advantages.”

“Mmm.”

Is she remembering how well she fit with her head just beneath my chin? How tall is she when she doesn’t have heels on? They were probably about two-inch wedge looking things, which would still make her tall. But she’d come to my collarbone.

“Which works better for you? Lunch or dinner? I’ll probably be free by twelve-thirty if you prefer lunch.”

Now she’s offering me a choice. She said both earlier.

“How about one? Do want to meet somewhere? Or—or I could pick you up. I could send a car.”

Did my voice just crack? What the fuck. I sounded like a fifteen-year-old asking a girl out for the first time.

“I’ll be in Midtown for the morning meeting and the Upper East Side for the afternoon. If it’s not too inconvenient, you could pick me up.”

“I’ll be in Midtown too. Send me the address.”

I hear Finn walk in my front door. “Sean?”

---