Page 114 of The Woman with the Target on her Back (Grassi Family)

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he confirmed. “Figure a new house project would allow for a fuckuva lot of disagreements,” he said, smirking at me now. “And, therefore, a lot of makeup sex.”

“I’m going to be… difficult,” I warned.

“No fucking shit,” he said, laughing. “Guess I’m just into difficult women,” he added, shrugging.

“I, ah, I think I might be okay with this arrangement. I mean… I’ll have to go back eventually.”

“Why?” he asked, tensing.

“I have to clean out the shop and my home. Talk to the developers about a buyout. I guess they’ll get Sheryl’s place now too.”

“Hey,” August said, sensing a sadness in my voice. “I get that some part of this feels like a failure when you’ve dedicated so much of your life to that neighborhood. But there was no standing up to development. They will drive everyone you’ve been working to help out in due time.”

“I know. I was thinking that the day of the break-in, actually,” I admitted. “I was wondering if I was just shooting myself in the foot by holding out, knowing my buy-out would be less down the line.”

“Yeah. I think it was pure stubbornness to think you could stay long-term.”

“It was all I had,” I said, shrugging.

“Well, not anymore. And you can do good anywhere. You can do good here. There are people everywhere that could use your help.”

“That’s true.”

“You could even open a coffee shop if you want to.”

“I, ah, I don’t think I want to,” I admitted. “I opened the shop because I could work for myself, and I’ve always loved coffee and baking. But I don’t know if I want to do it again. I don’t… I don’t know what I want to do.”

“Well, luckily, there’s no rush,” he said. “You gotta heal. Then you can sell your place. You’ll have that money as a safety net, though you won’t be needing it with me.”

“I always pay my—“

“I’m sure you have. But now you don’t. Let’s put a pin in this discussion until you’re healed, because I think the makeup sex will be epic,” he said, pressing a kiss to my temple.

“Okay,” I agreed, relaxing back into him. “I need to call my father today. Check on Don.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, fingers stroking up and down my arm. “And if you’re up for it, I’d like to go visit Lettie at her office.”

“I think I’m okay. But I did tell her that I would see her again if I was around.”

“There’s no rush. Smush will be around in a bit, so you can see what she got you. Then call your old man. After that, we can go.”

“Then come home and have pasta.”

“Oh, baby, if there is one thing you can count on with this family, it’s that there will always be pasta.”

August - 1 month

“Where’s Traveler?” my mom asked when I showed up for dinner without her in tow.

They hadn’t actually met yet.

That was something that my mother was clearly unhappy about.

It wasn’t exactly intentional.

That first week of Traveler being with me, she slept so much that any time my mom dropped by, she was passed out.

I’d never seen someone sleep like that. I was almost going to try to talk her into seeing someone, some part of me worried she was depressed. But when she got up, she was happy and bubbly. I think she was just recovering from the events that went down in her hometown. And, to an extent, I think she was catching up on all the sleep she’d been missing out on for years.

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