Page 56 of The Woman with the Target on her Back (Grassi Family)

To that, his brows went up like I’d really put him on the spot.

“Fuck,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Somewhere with the vague feeling ofhomey,I guess. That’s how I feel when I go to my mom, aunts, or cousin’s houses. It feels like a family lives there.”

“What’s your mom’s house like?”

“Cozy. Lots of art, pictures, plants. She’s a big gardener. Decorates for every holiday. Makes us come over to haul all the shit out of the basement and attic. On Thanksgiving, getting things out for Christmas, Christmas for Valentine’s Day, on and on.”

“I think the stuff is what makes a home too. My father is a bit of a minimalist, and his place always felt like being in a museum when I went to visit. Everything echoed. There was no personality on display.”

“What about your mom’s place?”

“My mom wasveryinto pink. We had pink appliances. It was a little over the top, but it screamed her. Which I appreciated.”

“Where is she now?” he asked.

“Washington State. She opened a spa there. A lot of pink,” I added, shaking my head.

“Married?”

“God, no. I don’t think she’ll ever marry again. I don’t know if she’s ever even really dated anyone seriously since my father. But she’s happy without a relationship, so I’m happy for her.”

“And your dad?”

“What about him?”

“Does he date?”

“I’m sure he does. But he’s never had anyone around when I’ve been around. So, I think you should cook every night we’re staying here,” I declared as we both moved into the living room, leaving the clean-up for later. We were both too stuffed to do it.

“I can do that,” he agreed, reaching for me when I tried to go to the other couch, and pulling me down beside him as well.

“I’ll have to find a way to pay you back,” I told him as he fiddled with the tablet to turn on the TV.

“I actually know of a way,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” I asked, tone a little suggestive even though his hadn’t really been.

“Let me share the bed tonight,” he said. “I hate to echo Aurelio, but my back is starting to bother me,” he admitted.

“I think we can arrange that,” I agreed, letting myself snuggle in because it felt right, because he seemed to want that as well.

“Okay. So what kind of movie can I put on that won’t have you complaining about?” he asked, teasing me, and getting an elbow to the stomach for it.

Given how heavy things had been lately, we opted for a comedy, then settled in to watch.

I was out cold within minutes listening to the steady thump of his heart under my ear.

I woke up alone on the same couch some unknown time later, a different movie playing on the TV, and a blanket pulled over me.

I slow blinked at the TV for a moment before I realized the words didn’t seem to be lining up because it was August’s voice I was hearing, coming from the kitchen.

He wasn’t whispering or trying to keep his conversation quiet, so I didn’t feel guilty for eavesdropping.

It sounded like he was talking to one of his brothers, judging solely on the somewhat exasperated tone he was using when said sibling even gave him a chance to speak.

“No, I’m not gonna be back for it,” he said. “Yeah, I know she’s not gonna be happy. But not doing it on the actual day will let her throw me a surprise party that is actually a surprise,” he said.

His birthday was coming up?

---