Page 53 of Meet Me in Montreal

Scott’s flint gaze touched Santino’s long-sleeved shirt. “FDNY, huh? It’s cool you could get time away and enjoy Montreal with your wife.”

The way he said the word “wife” sent an actual fucking chill down Vanessa’s spine, sinking notch by notch over her vertebrae. His incisors pressed into his bottom lip when he enunciated it slowly. Why hadn’t she noticed before how sharp they were? Almost shark-like, sharp enough to tear through layers of flesh.

“Speaking of wives,” Santino said. “I seem to remember telling you not to call mine again when we had our talk, but yet I heard you did exactly that a couple days ago. Do we have to have another conversation to refresh your recollection? Because I’m available right now to talk outside if you are.”

“Santino…” Vanessa murmured, one hand still clutching his while the other rose to grasp his bicep. It was flexing. Her fingers, long as they were, wouldn’t come close to wrapping around that muscled arm to stop him if he decided to go afterScott. “Can we please not have a ‘catch me outside moment’ on this vacation? Let’s just go.”

The corner of Scott’s mouth lifted but his eyes looked anything but amused as he ignored her, focusing like a laser on the stiff man by her side. “Is that another threat?”

“It’s an invitation,” Santino clarified. She could feel his body thrumming and ready to go.

Shaking his head with a short laugh, Scott held up his hands and backed away. “I definitely plan on taking you up on that offer but right now, I’m here to have a good time. Let’s save the scrappin’ for another day so you don’t end up embarrassing yourself in front of our girl.”

“Ourgirl?” Santino made as if to move toward him, fingers tightened into fists, but the blonde lady appeared at their side.

“Is there a problem here?” she asked sweetly yet firmly in accented English, looking between the two men.

“No problem at all,” Vanessa answered, grabbing Santino’s hand in both of hers and pulling. “We’re leaving.Nous sommes désolés.”

Finally, after her apology to the lady, she got him to go. Scott watched them leave with that sharklike grin, the muscles still flexing through his shirt. It was mind-bending to think that only two weeks ago, her intention had been to be here with that man. Never in a million years would she have guessed she’d be with the angry blond who was fuming at her side instead.

It had just proven Auntie Belle’s frequently-made point that no matter how well you planned out your life, Fate had a way of laughing right in your fucking face. And yes, Belle had cursed profusely, one of the things that had set Nadine’s teeth on edge and made Vanessa giggle with glee when she was younger. Unfortunately, the situation she was in right now wasn’t exactly a laughing matter.

Outside, Santino’s nostrils were flared, and his face was still red. Anxiously, Vanessa walked and tugged, trying to get them as far away from the gallery as possible before he changed his mind and went back in after Scott.

“Well, that was nuts,” Vanessa quipped, trying to lighten the mood as they put more distance between themselves and the other man. “Who would have guessed he’d come up here after all?”

“He didn’t look surprised to see us. That motherfucker was waiting for us. At least now I know who keeps fucking calling me,” Santino muttered.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, slowing down and taking a gulp of air. In their haste they’d left their umbrellas in the courtesy bin at the gallery entrance. Fortunately, the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

“Somebody’s been blowing up my phone since we’ve been here. It’s a restricted number. They’re not leaving messages or texts. It must have been him all along. Somehow, he figured out we’re here together and he’s fucking with me. Next time I see him, it’s on and I won’t give a fuck where we are.”

Eyebrows drawing together, Vanessa put a hand on his arm again. “He told me before that he does come up here every year. He’s not here for me. So, no fighting. Please. If we see him around, and hopefully we won’t, we’re going to ignore him and have a good time. I didn’t come all the way up here for drama.”

Santino’s labored, angry breathing slowed down a bit and became easier. He stared at their surroundings as if reabsorbing the laid-back atmosphere and the calming light-hearted music pouring out of a nearby café. She was stroking his arm, soothing him, until his eyes moved back to hers and then lower to her mouth.

“Okay. No fighting. Just gimme more of this.” Santino pulled her into his body by the hips and kissed her, his lips moving overhers while he ignored the stares of people passing by. She could practically see him shake off the bad attitude as a lopsided grin made its appearance on his face. “Alright, what’s up next on our no-drama itinerary?”

The rest of the day was drama-free as he’d promised. They had an early dinner at a different garden restaurant. The sun came out and dried up some of the puddles on the streets, but the trees and flowers had all been refreshed and lent the air their perfume. When evening came, they happened upon a three-story house. In front of the powder blue dwelling was a college-aged kid with a high-top fade passing out little flyers for a hip hop show inside.

“Hip-hop performances, in a private house?” Santino asked, his eyes hopeful but his face skeptical.

“Yeah. There are four playing tonight. Go on in,” the kid encouraged them with a smile.

On the first floor, the living room was big and devoid of furniture. There was a stage at the head of the room with amps and a set up for turntables and other equipment. A throng of people ranging from teenagers to forty-somethings were scattered throughout the whole house, which they checked out from bottom to top. People had red solo cups and were buying drinks from a barrel on the second floor while the smokers were hanging out on a back balcony. They bought drinks and went back downstairs for the show. They found a quieter corner away from the stage.

“I’m sure this is illegal as hell,” Vanessa said in his ear, taking a dubious sip of her drink. It was rum punch that went down smooth but landed hard. “Wow.”

“Isn’t illegal usually the most fun?” Santino downed half his drink in one go, then let out a whoop.

“My degenerate husband,” she said, watching him with a grin.

“You love me, though, right?” he responded teasingly.

“Ugh, I plead the Fifth.”

“Come on. That is one thing you never complained about, though, me partying hard all night,” he reminisced. “Why not? You got on me for just about everything else but not that.”

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