Page 63 of The Butcher's Wife
“You get anywhere near the target?” He looks too relaxed in the bed, instead of tense and seconds away from ripping my clothes off like I’d prefer.
I lean back against the doorjamb of the closet, crossing my arms. “A few times.”
He scoffs, tapping lightly on his phone. “Eduardo will bring a few things I ordered later today. You train with me, and I’ll have you hitting the target every time.”
A strange thrill passes through me. “You want to train me? Like, to shoot?” I think back to the cold terror of Mikey pinning me against the car door. Of Don Salvatore looking at me in his basement. “Can you teach me to fight, too?”
He glances over at me. “Fight what, a flea? You weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet.”
I frown. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.” The elevator door faintly dings downstairs, and Valeria calls out a distant greeting as she steps inside the penthouse. “Valeria’s here.”
I’m strangely disappointed as I leave the room with Dom’s gaze burning my back. Why would he go through the effort of teaching me to shoot and not to fight? Is it really that big of a joke to teach me how to defend myself?
Valeria is digging through one of the two giant papersacks of groceries and flowers when I enter the kitchen. Her eyes linger on my face just like Dom’s did.
“You doing okay?” she asks too casually as she pulls out a bag of leeks.
I pat under my eyes self-consciously. “I didn’t think it was that obvious.”
“It’s not.” Valeria turns to the fridge. “Would a hug help?”
For a few moments, I’m not sure if she’s joking or not, until she cracks a tiny smile.
Is sheteasingme?
“Only if you promise not to blind me again,” I tease back.
Valeria measures me for a few seconds. I think I might’ve offended her, until she takes a bracing breath like she’s about to plunge into an ice bath and steps forward to hug me. Her long limbs wrap around me with all the comfort of a stick bug, but I appreciate the sentiment as she awkwardly pats my back.
“You’ve been practicing,” I say.
“Shut up.”
When we finally release, a light blush lingers on her cheeks as we work together to get the rest of the groceries put away.
“I got the party invitations printed out.” She pulls a thick, book-sized package from her bag. “They look even better in person. Are you sure you can mail them all out? I can still do it.”
I snatch them from her. “I’ve seen your handwriting—trust me, everyone will thank you for delegating.” I cast my gaze over the flowers we’ve laid out on the kitchen island, a few ideas already forming in the back of my mind. “I’ll send you some pictures of the flowers later. The chicken wire youbrought over the other day should help. Did you ever hear back from that pianist?”
The pieces are starting to fall together for us. If I can get my flower arrangements to look less “drunk”, and Valeria can get the pianist she paid last week to sign her event contract, we’ll be in a good place for the party. I should be happy we’re figuring this all out, but mostly I wonder what I’ll do once this event’s over. I like cooking, and I don’t mind cleaning, but being a housewife for Dom feels like falling into the same old song and dance.
Valeria’s gloomy face falls. “No. I keep meaning to stop by his house, but I haven’t had the time. If I don’t get him to agree to go, I’ll have to fight for the deposit. I might use some of my cash to hire someone else until we can get it back.”
“Deposit for what?”
Valeria and I turn as Dom comes down the stairs, dressed in a pair of soft dark brown pants rolled at his ankles and a black T-shirt that stretches across the heavy muscles of his chest. My stomach somersaults at the sight of him, and he flashes me a grin that makes my knees weak. Despite his size, he’s completely silent as he walks barefoot from the stairs to the kitchen and kisses the top of my head.
Blushing furiously, I turn to Valeria—who’s completely stone-faced. Little by little, her expressions had been opening up, I realize, only to shut down again at Dom’s arrival. Dom, on the other hand, is completely unbothered as he opens the fridge and rustles through the interior.
“It’s no concern,” she says woodenly. “Just a few snags for the party. I’ll get it handled.”
“I can call him,” I say. “Cousin Joey’s kids used to be Girl Scouts, and I’ve helped run their cookie stands sometimes. I’m good with people.”
“Someone’s not coughing up their deposit?” Dom’s voice rumbles ominously behind me.
“Dom,” I say warningly and turn to Valeria. “I’ll call him today, okay? And maybe I’ll have Cousin Carmen draft up some legalese to scare him if that doesn’t work. We’ll have it back by the end of the week, promise.”
Valeria’s eyes flick up to Dom, before she meets my eye and nods. “Okay. Thank you.”
