Page 167 of Steamy Ever After

But this time his mother kept quiet.

“You could have taken over the bar, but you didn’t want that,” his dad continued. “You could have gone to college and done something with yourself.”

“I am doing something with myself!”

“Where do you live? You’re staying in a truck stop motel and living out of the trunk of your car!”

“Why would I pay rent for an apartment when I’m on the road?”

His father scoffed. “You’re here because you ran out of money. You think we don’t see what you’re doing? And I know you stole the manicotti the other night.”

“Nona gave it to me! Tell him I didn’t steal it, Nona.”

His grandmother turned from the stove where she fried chicken cutlets and pinched Giovanni’s cheek hard. She kissed his forehead, most likely leaving a smear of red lipstick. “I’ll cook’a whatever you want’a.”

He arched a brow at his dad and Paulie rolled his eyes. “Say something, Colleen.”

“I think your father’s right, Giovanni. You need a steady income. You have to start thinking about your future.”

He groaned, forking his fingers through his hair. They’ve had this same damn argument a hundred times. “I am thinking about my future. Every move I make has to do with what’s best for my future.”

“You know, your sister put in an application for a job at the new hotel. They’re looking for managers.”

“I’m not working at a hotel. And Mariella should know better than to think they’d hire her.”

His mother scowled. “Why the hell wouldn’t they hire her? She’d be a great manager.”

“Because the hotel is owned by Perrin’s husband, Mom. Remember Perrin? The girl who bought the bar, the one who was engaged to Bran?” Did he have to spell it out for her? “Mariella was sleeping with her ex-fiancé.”

His father slapped him in the back of the head. “Don’t talk about your sister that way.”

Giovanni held open his hands. “I’m not saying anything that’s not true.”

His father pointed at him, a threatening glint in his eye.

Nona carried over a tray of cutlets and his mother set the table. They called a temporary truce while they ate, but once their bellies were full, they were back to screaming at each other again.

“That’s it!” Giovanni snapped. “I’m outta here. I don’t have to listen to this.”

“That’s it, go back to your roadside motel and see how the other half lives,” his father sneered. “Where are you going with those cutlets?”

Giovanni put on his coat and tucked the warm Tupperware of chicken under his arm. “I’m takin’ them. And Nona will fight you if you try to stop me.”

His grandmother blew him a kiss. He hugged his mom, kissing her cheek. “Love ya, Ma. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He had no intention of going back to the motel. He hadn’t been there in days. When he pulled up at Erin’s the lights were on. He parked on the street and frowned at the recliner chair on its side in the snow-covered front lawn.

He knocked and she opened the door wearing those form-fitting tight cotton pants girls wore and a little pink sweater. She looked delicious.

“Hey.”

He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a piece of furniture in your front yard.”

“I was throwing it away, but it got too heavy.”

“Oh. Want me to move it to the curb?”

“Leave it for now. It’s really heavy. I’ll deal with it later.”

---