“I am a fabulous cook.” He finishes with his half of the chicken and uses the point of the knife to steal back some of the pile I’m working on. “Probably better than you. You can cook, can’t you?”
My mouth drops open and I turn to look up at him. “You’re a cocky son of a bitch.”
He winks. “Admit it, wifey, you love it.”
My laughter is breathless because there’s a part of me that does, in fact, love his confidence, his refusal to find even a single fuck to give because he’s too busy doing and saying exactly what he wants, when he wants. It’s the part of his personality that I envy.
We’re standing almost as close as we’d been in the closet. I swallow hard but don’t turn away from those big brown eyes. Instead, for a sweet, blissful moment, my doubts take a back seat while I play one of the most harmful mental games in existence.
What if... Tony isn’t only in this to keep his job?
What if... we’d met under different, kinder circumstances?
What if... this really is the beginning of a real-life happily ever after?
“I’m hungry, Uncle Tony, how long before dinner?” Mason’s voice is a bucket of cold water.
“Give us about thirty minutes, bud.” Tony nudges me with his shoulder.
I snap back to reality and take a step back, camouflaging the motion by pretending to check the garlic and green onions sizzling on the stove. Mami is right, damn her. I’m a romantic at heart, just like her, and if I’m not careful, Anthony Martinez is gonna end up one heartbreak in a long line of many.