Page 107 of Salvatore

“What was that,dolcezza?” Catarina asks from the kitchen as she prepares a lunch tray.

“Nothing.” I stab at the Greek salad she made me and skewer a piece of feta.

“Okay…” She eyes me with concern and grabs her tray filled with the usual water bottle, main meal, juice, and fruit. “I’m going to go eat my lunch. I’ll be back in a little while.”

I turn my attention to my food, unsure if I can hide the accusatorybullshitexpression. “Why can’t you just eat with me?”

“It’s Lorenzo’s preference.” She answers without pause—a rehearsed response.

I shove the feta in my mouth before I think better of calling her out on the lie.

She’s already in the basement, the door having clicked shut behind her when I pull my cell from my slightly loose-fitting jeans to text Salvatore.

Ivy

Tell me about your parents. What are they like?

I already know his father is dead. I found that info on the internet after I’d heard whispers that Lorenzo, Remy, and Salvatore had settled in Baltimore. But I can’t recall reading anything substantial about his mother apart from her director position in the fashion label they used to own.

It isn’t until midafternoon that I get a reply?—

Salvatore

A quick Google search would tell you my father is dead. And I don’t speak to my mother often. Why?

Ivy

Just curious. I remember your brother calling you a momma’s boy and I keep thinking about it.

Salvatore

Although I appreciate being in your thoughts, this isn’t a topic to gain ammunition to taunt me with. Find something else to fixate on.

Ivy

Okay, Sally, warning noted.

Salvatore

Thanks, my little Fleshlight.

I guffaw, the shocked, aghast sound sputtering from my lips.

My little Fleshlight?

Ivy

If you ever call me that again it’s going to be my thirteenth reason.

Salvatore

So you’d prefer not to have it printed on our wedding invitations?

Ivy

You can shove any thoughts of a wedding where the sun doesn’t shine. And if you’re unfamiliar with where I’m referring, I’m happy to give you a demonstration.

Salvatore