Page 88 of Angel

He stares at me, in just as much shock, neither of us moving.

She knocks again. “Angel!”

We both jump into action. I scramble off Angel, smoothing my clothes down, as if that will do anything to mask the way my lips still burn from our kisses.

Angel’s got his hand on his cock, like he’s trying to squeeze it back down to a normal size.

“Don’t make me go get my keys!”

“No!” Angel shouts. “I’m coming, Mama! Just one sec!”

He takes a step toward the door, but I stop him with a hissed, “Wait! What about me?”

He blinks at me, dumbfounded.

“Should I hide or something?” I gesture toward the bedroom, imagining myself crawling under the bed.

Angel turns to face me and the expression on his face rocks me to the core. It’s sincere and determined, concerned and a tad bit angry. But most of all, there’s so much love shining through his eyes that I’m stunned into stillness.

Meanwhile, the commotion at the door has died down, which is probably not a good sign.

“No, Rhys. You were made to shine. You should never hide how bright and beautiful you are.”

Oh god, I’m going to burst into tears again.

Angel closes the distance between us and takes my hands in his. “I’ll never let anyone hide you away or cover you up or make you less than you truly are. I don’t care who it is, not Mario and the guys, not your parents, not even Mama. Even if we need to leave and never come back. I’ll always stand up for you.”

I throw myself at him, burying my face in the middle of his chest, arms squeezing tight around his waist. He envelops me, strong arms holding me close, lips pressed against the top of my head.

How is it possible for one man to be so perfect? To check every single box I’ve ever had, and plenty more I didn’t even know I wanted? God, I fucking love this man so much it feels like my chest is going to burst.

Angel brushes my hair back from my face. I gaze up at his warm brown eyes, at his oh-so kissable pink lips. He cups my cheek.

“Ready to meet Mama?”

No, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to meet someone like Angel’s mom. I’ve never given a second thought to reestablishing connections with anyone in the old neighborhood. But for Angel? For Angel, I’ll go to the ends of the fucking earth.

I nod. “Yeah, let’s go.”

His hand engulfs mine when he takes it, and I cling to him like a child hiding behind his father. My stomach churns with nerves even as my heart douses me with a flood of love. I brace myself.

Angel pulls the door open, and on the other side is his mom, key in hand, poised to slide it into the lock.

She smirks knowingly, then glances past him to me. At first, there’s curiosity in her eyes, an eagerness that eases my anxiety. It only lasts for a split second before she blinks and realizes who I am.

“You.” Her brows slam together into a frown.

I gulp and tuck myself slightly behind Angel’s arm. He squeezes my hand.

“You’re not a girl. You’re… you’re Dina’s boy.”

“Hi, Mrs. Russo.” I hate how small I sound. I hate how much I feel like teenage Ricky Gallo right now.

“What are you—” Her gaze drops to our clasped hands, to where I’m gripping Angel’s arm with my free hand. Her lips flatten into a hard line and she stares for what feels like ages.

But before I can think of anything to say, before Angel can jump in, her gaze shoots back up to his face.

“It’s time to make Sunday dinner.” Then she spins on her heel and marches back downstairs.

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