Page 27 of It's Always Sonny

And.

I.

Just.

Sit.

There.

I sit there until I hear the cabin door open and close one final time. I hear the sound of a limping footfall on the hardwood. I hear the one voice I most miss and want to avoid in the world.

“Jane!” Sonny says. He’s coming closer, but I keep my head down, obscured as I am by a layer of his chatting cousins. “The place looks awesome. Thanks again for putting us up this week. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Blood rushes back to my extremities, animating me.

She knew.

I shake off my stupor and hop to my feet, walking around the table to join Jane, who is hugging Sonny. He appears to be off his crutches. Jane is tall enough, especially with heels, that their height difference is only a couple of inches. Which means that Sonny doesn’t see me until they separate.

Which means I get to surprise him.

“Hi Sonny,” I say with a big, syrupy smile. “We’re so glad to be hosting the Luciano reunion and Nonna’s birthday party.”

Sonny’s gaze drops half a foot, and he startles. “PJ? Why are you … what are you … Jane?” Sonny isn’t easily thrown, and there’s a chance I’m enjoying his stammering a bit too much.

Jane scrunches her perfect nose and gives the least apologetic shrug known to mankind. “Remember how I told you our caretaker would be out but that we had the best backup in the world? Parker’s our backup for events.”

Sonny looks heavenward. He licks his lips before stretching them into a slow, smile. “I’m embarrassed that I didn’t see this coming.” His eyes lock on mine and hold my gaze. “I can’t imagine anyone better for the job.”

“Thanks, Sonny,” I say brightly, as if I’m pleased with the compliment instead of wondering how on earth I’m going to survive four full days of the Lucianos.

I’ll have to fake it till I make it.

And by “make it,” I mean until they leave. There will be no “making it” of any kind.

Especially not with Sonny.

Chapter Nine

Sonny

PJ is here.

PJ is here.

PJ is here.

Parker Jane Emerson is here with my family for four days. She broke up with me unceremoniously all those years ago. Her reasoning was shoddy then, and I swear, I still feel that same energy pass between us anytime we’re near. It’s not a spark as much as a frisson, a psycho-physiological vibration that our bodies emit in each other’s presence and no one else’s.

I felt the energy coming off of her when I held her last week. Heck, I felt it when we looked at each other. And she almost said yes to my breakfast invite. I know she did. She looked like she was teetering on the edge of yes, and because I’ve matured, I didn’t push her, even though I wanted to. Even though my cells were buzzing on a higher frequency just being in her presence. I know I have an effect on her, just like she’s always had this effect on me.

Her presence is a stimulant to me. She’s the human equivalent of an energy drink.

The frantic feeling in my chest has reached an uncomfortable pace, and I stop in my tracks, surrounded by my family. I need to breathe. I need to center myself. I don’t like feeling this out of control, but I’m remembering all of a sudden that I used to feel like this around her all the time. It wasn’t her fault or her responsibility. It was just a fact. I didn’t know how to rein in the natural exuberance that became supernatural around her.

And she carried that sadness with her that I so badly wanted to fix …

I never understood how she could be so fiery and competitive and hold that heavy insecurity at the same time. She tried to hide it, but it was like a throbbing wound.

---