Page 115 of The Woman on the Jury

Maybe it was just easier when something inside said you’d found the right person.

Was it possibly insane that my right person was a member of the mafia? Yeah, kind of. But I couldn’t deny the way my heart felt like it swelled when Cosimo was nearby.

“Yeah. I want to stop at the grocery store first, though. I’m making dinner tonight,” I declared.

I couldn’t explain the urge to cook for him, especially given that it wasn’t something I particularly enjoyed or had any major skills with.

I think it was some form of nesting.

A few hours later, Cosimo was home, uncorking a bottle of wine, then sitting down at the table.

I put some food on his plate, watching as he grabbed his fork, scooped some up, and put it into his mouth.

His face was unreadable as he chewed.

Then, out of nowhere, he reached for my hand, pulling me closer as he burst out laughing.

“Oh, baby,” he said, pulling me onto his lap. “Love that you want to cook for me, but I think we are going to have to agree that this just isn’t your forte,” he said, scooping more up, and holding the fork up to my lips.

I almost didn’t want to try it myself, given his reaction. But, I reminded myself, he was used to all the women in his family. They probably all cooked gourmet Italian. Not my best attempt at some classic Americana. So it was probably fine by normal tastebud standards.

Or that was what I thought until my lips parted, and I got to taste the meal I’d been working on for hours.

Yeah, it was not good.

Not only was it not good, but it was disgusting.

“Oh, God,” I grimaced, swallowing it down just to get it out of my mouth.

“It’s okay,” he said, smile suddenly a little devilish. “I know what I want to eat for dinner,” he told me as he moved his place setting out of the way, grabbed me, and laid me back against the table.

Then, yeah, he had me for dinner.

And we had each other on damn near every surface of the main floor before we fell onto the couch. Boneless. Satisfied.

“I’ll order in,” he said as his hand drifted lazily down my spine.

Cosimo - 3 weeks

“You’re gonna be fine,” I insisted as Halle fiddled with her dress for the fifth time in three minutes.

I’d taken her back to the store, wanting her to pick out some of the shit she hadn’t gotten the last time.

Including some bras, even if I stood by my belief that she didn’t need one. She’d reasoned that she did. If only for events like this.

She was meeting my ma.

Any time I talked to my ma since it came out that Halle was living with me, she was insisting I bring my girl to her table, so they could meet.

“Half the Family has met her, and I still haven’t,” she’d reasoned. “Even Silvano has met her before I have,” she added, sounding close to tears at the idea that I might deny her again.

I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

So here we were.

With Halle in a simple dark blue dress that she’d hemmed and hawed for hours before we’d left, despite Jeffrey having told her it would be perfect for a ‘meeting the mom’ type event. Pretty, but not demanding everyone’s attention. Modest, but not completely conservative.

She was holding a pie.

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