Page 27 of Luck of the Draw

I shrugged, then reached for the door handle. “I have to go inside and get ready to go to my meeting.”

“You’re still planning to go to that?”

“I may have had the best sex of my life, but the world still goes on.”

“Consider changing your mind,” she said. “Don’t throw a great guy away just because of his age. At least give him a chance to really turn you off. Wait for him to clip his toenails in bed. Or put almond butter on his pancakes.”

“I hate almond butter,” I said with a shudder.

“Iknow, you weirdo.” Then she gave me an understanding smile. “Look. We’ve both dealt with assholes most of our adult lives, so it’s hard to comprehend that we deserve something good.” She cupped my cheek again. “But you deserve something good, Dee.”

“I walked out without a word. Just a note. He’s going to hate me, Sam.” I shook my head. “No. This was a lesson. A stepping-stone to my new life. I need to learn from this and move on.”

Even if I felt like I was leaving my heart behind.

Chapter Eight

Dylan

My mom wenton and on about the baked ziti being off because Dad had picked up the wrong brand of pasta at the store. Then Nonna broke in to say it was her fault because the kitchen was a woman’s place, and she shouldn’t have encouraged my dad to help with dinner in the first place.

In the background, I could hear Matteo saying, “Oh shit, she went there”—which earned him a slap upside the head from our grandmother. She could tear any man a new one, but she didn’t believe men belonged within twenty feet of the kitchen, including famous Italian-American chefs like Emeril Lagasse. Dad said it was part of her Old World charm, but Mom and Tina didn’t find it so charming. Neither did my aunts. They were right, of course, but Nonna wasn’t going to suddenly change, any more than Tina was going to stop being Tina because our grandmother had finally said the right number of rosaries for her.

“Don’t we call it spaghetti truce for a reason?” I muttered. “I thought everyone was supposed to get along.”

“Oh, we’re not actually fighting, Dylan,” my mom said with a wave of her hand. “It’s just a discussion.” Then she cocked her head, studying me. “Nonna was wrong about the weight thing, but youdolook different, honey. You look good. You look happy.”

I huffed a laugh. “So I looked like a sad sack when I lived at home, huh?”

“You said it,” Tina called out. “You might as well have had a thundercloud following you around.”

“Tina,” Mom rebuked, but her tone lacked any heat. Then she turned back to me, studying me like she was a forensic pathologist and I was a particularly interesting corpse. “You met a woman. I can always tell.”

It was then I heard it—the creak of a door closing. Something inside of me jolted, especially at the strange synchronicity of my mother’s comment and that sound. Had Deeandra left?

But she wouldn’t just sneak out like that, would she? If she’d wanted to sneak out, she would have done it last night.

She wouldn’t have stayed for grilled cheese and more sex, or worn my T-shirt in a way that spoke of possession.

The truth was, nothing that had passed between us had felt like a one-night stand. It had felt like the beginning of something special, the kind of something you wanted to stick.

So why didn’t she want you to see her house, Dylan? Why don’t you know what she does for a living?

She knew those things about me, but she’d skirted around most of the personal questions I’d asked her.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Mom said, her eyes full of victory.

My heart seemed to stutter within my chest. The window in the bedroom was at the opposite end of the apartment from the front, so I couldn’t look out to see whether she’d left. I’d need to cross the apartment.

“Mom, I can’t talk about this right now.” I knew I’d pay for it later, but I needed to get out of the room so I could prove to myself she was still there, snuggled into the couch in my jersey. Then we could sit down and have a real talk, the kind that would give us space to figure out where this connection between us could lead. “I love you. Say goodbye to everyone for me, okay? I’ll talk to you later.”

She opened her mouth to saying something, probably “no,” but I’d already started closing out the app.

I pocketed my phone and called out a soft, “Deeandra,” as I pushed out of the room.

But she wasn’t there, and given my apartment was all of four rooms, it didn’t take me long to figure out she wasn’t anywhere. Her dress was gone too. I whipped out the door without any shoes on, only to find she wasn’t outside either.

Tyrell stood on his porch, looking down at the empty curb before our building with a slightly glazed look.

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