Page 11 of My Never
“Certo che sì.”Of course, yes.
I lean on my elbows against the island top, resting my chin on top of fisted hands, studying her.
“I’ve misread you.”
“Oh?” she asks me, wide-eyed like she doesn’t recognize the man speaking. I guess I can’t blame her.
“Just wanted to tell you that I was wrong. That I’m sorry again. By the way, this home suits you perfectly. I like it for you.”
She blinks several times before swallowing spit. I stand straight and walk to her fridge, reaching inside to grab a water bottle. After cracking the top, I hand it to her. She looks confused, as if she’s surprised I noticed a need and took care of it without asking. I’m just observant.
“Uh, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“You’ve had a shitty day, got your period, and had to face your jerk of an ex who was keen on humiliating you. I’m not going to add to that tonight. Go get your comfy clothes on. I’ll watch the pizza. Let somebody else take care of you for a few minutes, yeah?”
Completely dumbstruck by my kindness, she nods once and slides from her barstool, walking back toward her bedroom. I have to admit, she’s probably wondering if I’ve been abducted by aliens and something else is inhabiting my body. She’s never met the real me yet. I’m very selective on who gets the “real” me.
???
Ava
Who is that man in my kitchen?I wonder, shaking my head as I mosey to my bedroom. I grab my things, slipping on an extra soft tee with some black leggings and making quick work of my bathroom duties before returning to the kitchen. Sitting downon the barstool, I throw my hair up in a messy bun, pulling out a few tendrils by my ears. When I look up, his hazel eyes are on me, and a wave of shyness flitters across my skin.There’s no reason to be shy. Come on now. Channel your inner Jane.
“Bella,” he whispers under his breath so quietly he probably thinks I didn’t hear it. Now I’ll have to research it. “Now, isn’t that better?” he asks, setting slices of pizza on plates.
“Mmm, much better.”
“Here’s some pizza. Take it to the couch. Pick a movie. I’ll bring your drink, ice cream, and a spoon.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he tsks me and shoos me out of the kitchen with his hands. Plopping down onto the couch, I get comfy and turn on my tv. While waiting for Netflix to load, I pull up an Italian translator on my phone and type in the word bella.
Beautiful.
He called me beautiful.
I blush harder than I’ve blushed in a long time.
The smug bastard called me beautiful.
Maybe there’s a lot more to Marcus than what meets the eye. It’s too early to say for certain. He walks around the couch and sets things down on the coffee table in front of us. Leaning over me, he turns on a lamp for a smidge of light. Then the man goes and grabs a blanket and unfolds it over my lap. I am utterly bewildered.Again, who the hell is this guy? And what is happening?
He plops down on the other side of the couch and pulls out his phone. After typing, he sets it down on his thigh and rests his elbow on the arm of the sofa. He leans his head against a few fingers pressed next to his temple as if in contemplation as he watches me eat a slice of pepperoni while chewing on his own. I guess we’re both trying to figure out who the other is tonight.
“Good choice of ice cream.” He hitches his chin toward my cookies and cream. “You get your chocolate and vanilla that way.”
“Chocolate marshmallow would’ve been better, but my typical go-to was out.”
He smirks and looks at the tv.
“What you planning to watch?”
“Not sure. My stomach zeroed in on the food, and I’m trying to still figure out who I let into my house.”
“No worries. It’s still me. I’m just not feeling the feisty banter tonight.”
