Page 21 of Mafia Redeemer

I don’t like Rom Coms, so there’s no chance I’m recommending one. And it would feel too calculated or too obvious to do that. We sit and scroll the listings on three streaming platforms before we go back to the first one and settle on psychological thriller. I pointed it out, and he agreed. I wonder if this is the sort of thing he’s into or if he’s indulging me. When the opening scene starts with a guy beating the shit out of another one in an abandoned warehouse, I regret my choice. Is this what he has to do? Does this remind him of work?

“Relax,piccolina. It’s a good movie. It’s just a made-up story.”

How does he always know what I’m thinking? It’s cool and disconcerting at the same time. We get thirty minutes into it when my doorbell rings. I pause it, and he goes to the door. I consider getting plates and setting the table. We could both see the TV from the table, but it feels more natural to just sit on the couch together.

When he puts the bags on the coffee table, I open them and pass him his food. I can smell the rich aromas, but I know he didn’t order it as spicy as he could. I’m happy with my regular pad thai with no spice. I still think it’s a delicious dish.

We start the movie again, and before I realize it, we’re sharing our food, feeding each other. It doesn’t really dawn on me until after the movie’s done. When we finish eating, he clears everything and puts the empty containers back in the bags. He drapes his arm around my shoulder, and I curl up beside him. We watch most of the movie with my head on his chest and his head resting on top of mine. This is the most perfect date I’ve ever been on. I still want him to stay, but I won’t insist. When it finishes, he picks me up, so I straddle his lap like I did in the car.

“It’s easier to see you like this. You’re tired.”

I am, but I don’t want the evening to end.

“What’s your day like tomorrow? You know I go to an office. What’s your typical day?”

I’ll come up with anything to keep him here a little longer.

“Tomorrow, I have to go to Jersey to some casinos we own. I’m doing a quarterly audit.”

“Fun.”

I grin at him, and he taps my backside.

“Tons. In the afternoon, I’m stopping by one of my restaurants. There are some new menu items my chef would like me to try. What time do you finish tomorrow? Would you like to come with me?”

“I’d love to, but I won’t be done until five. I don’t want to hold up your afternoon.”

“I’ll take care of something else. We can have dinner at Constantine’s and try out the new dishes. I can pick you up.”

“Isn’t it a couple blocks from my office?”

“Yes. Just on the other side of the Flat Iron Building in Chelsea.”

That’s more like five blocks, but that isn’t too far. The weather’s been pleasant, so it should be a nice walk.

“I’ve never been to Constantine’s. What type of food is it?”

“It’s an Italian-Mexican fusion. I never would have imagined it would work, but my chef is a childhood friend who went to an amazing culinary school and was a sous chef in a Michelin star restaurant. He wanted to cook what he likes, and I wanted a restaurant that makes money. It’s a perfect partnership.”

“Sounds like it. I’ll meet you there at five-thirty.”

He hesitates, then nods.

“I told you I’d stay with you until you fall asleep. Do you want me to?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Don’t deflect. Tell me what you want.”

“Yes.”

I’m not used to being so frank so early in a relationship. It’s both refreshing and intimidating. I stand up and head into the bathroom to brush my teeth and take off my makeup. I don’t wear much, so I’m not scared for him to see me without it. I change into pajama shorts and a tank top with a shelf bra in it. I open the bedroom door, and he walks over from the sofa.

I’m not quite sure what to do, so I shuffle over to the bed and climb under the covers. He walks around to the far side, and I feel it dip as he sits. He kicks off his shoes before he rolls toward me. He slips his arm over my waist as he spoons me.

“I’ll lock the door behind me, Chellie. Sleep. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

I want to say all night, but I stifle a yawn. My eyes drift closed, and I know I’m asleep within minutes. I wish I’d basked in the feel of him cocooning me, but I was too at peace to stay awake. Would every night be like this if he slept beside me?

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