Page 46 of Out of the Shadow

Now it’s my turn to give her a quizzical look. My voice lowers. “What are you talking about, Angie?”

She leans forward, away from the back of the sofa. “Kaitlyn didn’t tell you? The show is going to tape us at Hunte’s concert at Jones Beach on Sunday night, after the Open House.”

“What?” That one word is so loud and sharp it would’ve ricocheted around the room if it weren’t for the various karaoke machines in use. My hands form into fists.

She looks at them, her mouth pursuing. “I thought you knew.”

I extend my fingers and smooth them over my khakis. “I’ll talk with Kaitlyn about this in the morning. Right now, suffice it to say that my dad and I are not on speaking terms.”

Her finger circles the rim of her empty glass. “Maybe you could use the concert as an opportunity to talk it out?”

I’m shaking my head before she even finishes the sentence. “No. I got caught doing something stupid and he cut me out of his life. End of story.”

“But he’s your father,” she says, her tone sweet and earnest. “Families have to stick together, even if someone does something dumb. My brothers and I fight like crazy, but when the chips are down, there’s no one else I’d want at my back. I know things haven’t been like that between you and your dad…maybe they could be though.”

Her words make me want to reach out and hug her and throttle her at the same time. I fold my hands on my lap. “I know you mean well, but I’m not going to see Hunte. Not now. Or ever again. Iwilltalk with Kaitlyn.”

The server comes to collect our glasses. I glance at Angie, and figure what the hell? “We’ll each have a White Russian to close out the night.”

Angie’s mouth opens, but then she shrugs, which surprises me. I expected her to at least object to my drink selection. Our drinks arrive a couple of minutes later.

Holding up her glass to mine, she says, “Here’s to a successful Open House.”

I clink my glass to hers and take a sip. And another. Why not? I’m not driving tonight. Leaning back, I stretch my arm around the back of the sofa, which happens to be behind her. She shifts in her seat, remaining silent.

Instead of dwelling on my father or my childhood, I focus on her. One thing she said when we were on our way to the Maguires’ the other day has been nagging at me. “So tell me, do you really believe in soul mates?”

Her eyes widen before half-closing. “Oh, I do. My grandparents and my parents prove it.”

“So, in your mind, you only have one shot at love?”

She smiles at my phrasing. “There’s a saying for it in my family. A perfectly matched pair forever.”

“I stand by what I said before. That’s a very romantic notion.”

She brings the glass up to her lips. “Well, I do know not everyone is lucky enough to find their soul mate, but I believe that’s how it should be for the fortunate who do.” She drinks and some cream sticks to her upper lip.

I reach out and remove it with my index finger. She smiles when I show it to her. The moment is so intimate, it captures me completely. I’m not thinking about my father. Or about soul mates. Or about her beloved Dante. I’m not thinking about the fact that she’s a romantic and I’m decidedly not.

I’m letting that tiny crack in my heart rule me.

Cupping my hand around her shoulders, I pull her forward and bring our lips together. It’s a soft exploration. Her lips are soft and puffy like untouched clouds.Untouched clouds?I deepen the kiss, pulling her willing body against mine.

Something explodes within me.

I extend my tongue and trace the seam of her lips, which part. And I duck inside. A low moan rumbles from her throat.

Then suddenly she’s pushing away from me. With a horrified look on her face, she slaps my cheek. My hand rushes up to cover the spot where her hand made contact as she grabs her purse and runs through the club like the devil himself was claiming her.

I lean against the sofa, letting the atmosphere of the club wash over me in discordant songs. Sniffing the air, I catch a whiff of the floral scent she left behind. An errant thought crosses my mind:Angie Russo, you’re mine.

Followed by a more practical one:Better order an Uber.

Angie

“BUT JULIANA, WEkissed.” I wring my hands as I walk around the furniture in my living room. “His lips touched mine.”

“I know what a kiss is, and I’m happy for you.”

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