Page 7 of Rome
Good manners dictated that I put up at least a token protest, even though the idea of a few hours to relax seemed like the best idea I’d heard in a while. Pop overrode my objection, saying he would order pizza and they would have a “guys’ night.” Ethan was clearly thrilled with the idea, if the ear-to-ear grin on his face was any indication.
“Ok, then, I’ll take you up on that generous offer,” I said as I kissed Pop on the cheek. King had walked over to the far corner of the yard to take a phone call and gave me a distracted wave when he realized I was leaving. Ethan ran over to give me a big hug goodbye, and I stepped back inside to grab my purse and the now-empty bag I’d brought. Jagger followed me inside to walk me out to my car.
“What time will Rome be finished today?” he asked as he helped me down the steps of the front porch. Since I could no longer see my feet around the beach ball that was my midsection, I appreciated the assistance.
“He should be home by four. Hopefully, he doesn’t get stuck dealing with any of Pic’s crap again,” I muttered disgustedly. Jagger opened my car door for me, and I tossed my purse and the grocery bag into the passenger seat, then carefully wedged myself into the driver’s seat. I looked up at Jagger, who was waiting to close the door behind me. He rested one arm on the top of the opened door and shook his head.
“I don’t know what the hell’s going on with Pic, but he needs to pull his head out of his ass. The shop’s profits are going down, and I know the whole thing is stressing the shit out of Rome.”
“Yeah, it’s getting really bad. I ran into Lola at the mall a few days ago, and she’s just about ready to leave him, I think. She’s tried to hang on for their kids’ sake. She said she was willing to overlook Pic’s wandering eye, but his erratic behavior lately is just too much.”
Jagger snorted. “It’s not just his eye that’s wandering. His wanderingdickis the issue. I’m surprised she’s willing to put up with that.”
I was surprised, too. “She told me that in her family, it’s pretty much expected that husbands won’t be faithful. It’s how she was raised. I can tell you, I sure as hell wouldn’t put up with it, mafia family or not.”
Jagger snorted again and said, “Well, La Famiglia Rossi definitely make up their own rules. Luckily, you don’t have anything to worry about there, Abs.”
I smiled at that because he was right. Caleb and I didn’t have a perfect relationship, but I never doubted that he loved me and was devoted to our marriage. If I were in Lola’s position, I would have left long ago. Hell, I might have asked my mobster family to outfit him with a pair of cement shoes before tossing him in a lake somewhere.
Jagger shut my car door and tapped on the roof once, telling me to be careful driving home. As I turned on the car, one of my favorite songs was playing on the radio. I drove off, singing along to one of Storm Front’s biggest hits. It was a beautiful song that their lead singer, Nico Peretti, had written for his wife Allie, and it always made me tear up a little.
A short time later, I sat down on my couch – well, it was more likefloppingdown on my couch, if I’m being honest – with a bottle of water, a couple of brownies, and my Kindle. I propped my bare feet up on the ottoman and sighed with relief as I wriggled my toes. My feet and ankles had started to swell this late in my pregnancy, and it was nice to be able to sit back and put them up for a while.
I grabbed the fleecy throw that was draped over the back of the couch and arranged it over my legs. We’d had an unusually warm day for mid-October in Indiana, but I tended to get cold easily. I toggled the button on the side of the Kindle on, then opened up the book I’d been trying to read for the last three days. I was only on chapter four, which was a sad statement on the amount of free time I’d had this week. As Everly stretched and kicked, I absently rubbed my swollen belly.
“Easy there, sweet pea,” I soothed. “Be nice to Mommy, OK? I’d really like to find out if the mafia kingpin in this story is nicer to his wife than the men of La Famiglia Rossi are to theirs, the cheating pigs.” I took a sip of my water and made a face, then rubbed my baby bump again. “You know I love carrying you, Everly Rose, but I’d kill for a Diet Pepsi right about now. I miss caffeine,” I sighed. Everly moved around a little more, until her head was wedged up under my rib cage on the right side. It was one of her favorite positions, much to my continued dismay. “I miss being able to take a deep breath, too, kiddo,” I said with a wince.
“All right, let’s see what Dario is up to, shall we?” I kept up my running commentary to the baby, so she would know the sound of my voice by the time she was actually here. “If I remember right, he had just told Valencia about the marriage contract her father signed before he died. What a jerk that man was!” By the way Everly kicked me just then, I assume she agreed with my assessment of the heroine’s father.
“Can you imagine having a father like that? Your daddy would skin any man alive who demanded an arranged marriage with you. Let me warn you, though, sweet pea, your daddy probably won’t let you date until you’re thirty, so having anover-protectivefather may not be all that great either.”
I pulled the plate of brownies closer, and balanced my Kindle on my belly as I began to read, pausing every once in a while to nibble on a brownie or brush the crumbs from my shirt. Yeah, I was classy like that. I had just gotten to the good part – Dario was determined to seduce his reluctant bride on their wedding night – when my eyes drifted closed. I didn’t wake up again until I heard the roar of Caleb’s bike as he pulled into the driveway.
Chapter 3
Rome/Caleb
I sat up and stretched my back, rolling my shoulders to try to get rid of the stiffness. I glanced at the clock, surprised to find out that it was a little after two in the afternoon.
“That’s it for today, man,” I told Jimmy as I dabbed the paper towel over the ink I’d just laid down on his skin. We were adding onto the chest piece he’d started almost a year ago, and he had been fucking stoked this morning when he saw the design I’d worked up for him.
The tattoo chair creaked as Jimmy carefully heaved himself up and walked over to the floor-length mirror in the corner. He was a big dude, probably two or three inches taller than my own six-foot-two. I was muscled and kept myself fit, but Jimmy was in another league.
“That’s fuckin’ badass, dude,” he told me with a huge grin, turning this way and that to see the design from different angles.
“Yeah, it’s gonna look killer when it’s done, man. We’ll finish the shading at your next session.”
After applying a thin layer of antibiotic ointment and wrapping the new ink, Jimmy rolled his eyes as I gave him the aftercare instructions.
“Don’t worry, I know the drill by now.”
“I know you do, man, but I’m not taking a chance that you forget and fuck up some of my best work,” I told him with a grin as I snapped off the black nitrile gloves I’d been wearing and tossed them into the trash can in the corner.
He followed me to the front to check out, and I nodded to Lacey, our pink-haired piercer, who also took care of the front counter most of the time. We didn’t get enough requests for piercings to have someone doing it fulltime, and I fucking hated doing it myself. The idea of sticking a needle in some dude’s junk to give him a Prince Albert – or even worse, a Jacob’s Ladder – made my balls want to shrivel up and hide, and there was no way in hell Abby would have been happy if I’d been piercing tits and clits, either. So, we hired Lacey.
“Lacey, can you get Jimmy cashed out, and schedule him for a four-hour session in about two months? I can do a Saturday again if needed.” I turned to him, and he clapped me on the shoulder.
“Hey, thanks, Rome. I appreciate you fitting me in.”
