Page 70 of Salvatore

I walk out of the kitchen, refusing to hide while they continue like I’m not there. “You didn’t answer my question,” he reminds her.

Instead of joining her on the couch, he edges to my side, although I don’t feel like he’s entirely with me. “That doesn’t tell me why you’re here,” he reminds her.

Her smile dwindles. “You were supposed to be at my place yesterday, today, and the other night. And you weren’t.”

“You need to take that up with Vin,” he says.

I think he sounds angry, but there’s more in his features than frustration. He’s concerned about her.

“You were supposed to be there with me, Sal,” she says, her face splintering. And as quickly as she arrives, she picks up her coat and leaves.

“Donnie,” he calls to her. She doesn’t stop, causing Sal to hurry after her.

I stand there for a few minutes, expecting him to return. When he doesn’t, I head back into the kitchen and lay out the containers of food. But as I reach for plate, I find I’m no longer hungry.

I bristle when I hear the key slip through the deadbolt and the door open. I don’t bother to look up, knowing it’s him and wishing it wasn’t.

“Hey,” he says.

He wraps his arms around my waist, the care he uses causing my head to lower. I don’t want to be hurt, but that’s exactly what I feel.

“You’re not going to eat?” he asks.

I shake my head. It’s all I’m capable of then.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, pressing a kiss to my temple.

I turn to face him. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming back,” I tell him honestly.

“There’s nothing between me and Donnie. She’s upset and she needed someone to talk to. It’s the only reason she came to find me here.” His thick brows draw tight when I don’t answer. “You know that, don’t you?”

The disappointment I feel causes me to shift my gaze. Donnie came, because she needed Salvatore specifically, not me and certainly not us. All the things she managed to say in the short amount of time she was here will stay with me. She reminded him about the days he was supposed to be there for her and wasn’t, demonstrating how much she needs and wants him.

But I need and want him, too.

I don’t mean for my insecurities to spill like a dam, but they do anyway. “She’s gorgeous,” I remind him.

“I don’t care about her, not like that,” he says.

“I wish I could believe you, but sometimes it’s really hard.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” he insists.

“I think you’re wrong.” The lump in my throat tightens. “Remember the other week, when Donnie accompanied us to dinner? Everyone assumed she was with you.”

He rights himself, releasing me from his grip, but I’m not done. “The hostess asked how long you’d been together and the waiter held out a chair so you could sit beside her, complimenting you for having such a ‘fine lady’ at your side.” My voice quivers with my final words. “That was hard to take, so don’t judge me for what I’m feeling, especially when she comes here to my home looking for you.”

I’m not exaggerating. That’s what happened the last time Donnie was with us. Despite my close proximity to Salvatore, everyone stopped to look at him and Donnie as they passed, assuming they were the perfect pair. I probably would have assumed the same thing and, because of it, did my best to dismiss the experience with a smile. It beat finding the nearest hole to crawl into.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t hurt or offended.

I lower my chin when he takes my hand and leads me out of the kitchen and across the living room. He sits on my bed, holding my hips and positioning me in front of him when it’s clear I won’t join him.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

He told me the same thing that night, after he made a point to tell the hostess and waiter that he was with me. He also spent the rest of the night with his arm around me, showing anyone who noticed that I was the woman he was with.

It was sweet. But the blows to my ego left an impact that was hard to shake, more now following Donnie’s appearance.

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