I grab my cell phone and dial the non-emergency number for the local police. The dispatcher answers on the first ring, and I explain there’s a man casing my store and I would like an officer to drive by to make sure I get to my car okay.

  The woman confirms there’s a squad car nearby. She says to stay put in the store. The officers will knock on the front door when they arrive.

  I am freaking out now, though. I’ve put something in motion that can’t be undone. If the guy is just an innocent guy who needs a bathroom… But to be honest, I’m pretty sure that’s a line of bullshit.

  My nerves are frayed, and the few minutes it takes the cops to arrive feel like three hours. I’m panicked and pacing and don’t know what to do when I finally hear a loud knock at the front door.

  I peek out from the kitchen and see two uniformed officers standing there. Behind them, the lights are blaring, but there’s no siren sound. I feel relief and fear at the same time, but since I don’t see any sign of the guy who wanted the bathroom, I come out, cross the store, and unlock the door for the officers.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” the officer asks me.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I say. “Is he still out there?”

  The officer shakes his head. “We caught him.”

  My eyebrows rise at their speed. “Thank you.”

  He gives me a chin lift. “No thanks needed, ma’am. He’ll be off to the station in a few. Another car got here before us and were able to chase him down. When they searched him, they found a large knife in his possession.”

  My stomach twists remembering that night and the knife he had. A knife he could’ve used on me. “Oh my,” I whisper, trying to keep myself upright and the fear out of my mind.

  He’s been caught.

  He’ll never hurt you again.

  “You saved a lot of businesses a lot of losses by calling,” the officer assures me. “If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to call.”

  As soon as I close the door to the shop, I slide my back down the door, placing my ass on the floor. I give myself five minutes to have a freak-out before I compose myself and head out the door.

  It’s over. He’s gone forever.

  I arrive at the Bianchis empty-handed.

  Franco’s eyes meet mine, and he immediately drops the pan of stuffing on the table and rushes toward me. I’m standing in the front hallway with my coat and boots still on.

  “What happened?” he starts, but I shake my head.

  “Can we talk for a second in private?” I ask. I love and trust the Bianchis, but this is something I want to share only with him. I don’t want the noise and attention. I just need him to know what I’ve been through. I just need my Franco.

  “Absolutely, yes.” He watches me with concern on his face. I hand him my coat to hang up while I slip off my boots, and immediately, people descend to greet us. Franco shoots me a quick look before parting the crowd like a champion. I’m so, so surprised and grateful. “We need a moment,” he tells them, “alone.”

  Bev and Gracie groan, and loud laughter ensues as the family urges us to go downstairs for a few moments alone. I try to smile and wave as Franco takes me into the basement kitchen, where food is stacked up waiting to be carried to the table.

  “Should we wait?” I ask, motioning to the trays piled high with baked sweet potatoes and toasted dinner rolls. “I don’t want to mess up the meal.”

  “Everything can wait,” he tells me. “All that matters is you.”

  He pulls me close, and for a moment, I just rest my head against his chest. I lock my arms around his waist and hug him hard. He’s wearing a soft flannel shirt with a white T-shirt underneath, and his smell is both familiar and comforting. He kisses the top of my hair and rocks me lightly, just waiting.

  Doesn’t urge me. Doesn’t rush me.

  Above us, I can hear laughter and heavy footfalls as guests and family walk around. The music is muted, but I hear the occasional barks from the dogs. When my pulse settles a bit and I feel a little calmer, I release him and look into his face, explaining in as few words as possible what happened tonight at the shop. Franco doesn’t interrupt until I’m done talking.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, his body tense and his expression tight.

  I nod. “I’m oddly relieved. They know who the guy is now, so even if he gets out…”

  “He’s not getting out,” Franco says, his voice low and angry. “I’m going to call the station tomorrow and talk to the detective who is handling your case. Maybe I can file assault charges against him. He did fight me out there on the street. We’ll make sure he doesn’t get out anytime soon, babe.”

  I nod against his chest. “I was planning to have time to stop home and throw together some cookies or something. I can’t believe I came here empty-handed. I was just so shaken.” I wave down at my casual traveling clothes. I’m wearing yoga pants over a loose, comfy sweater.

  “None of that matters,” he says. He leans back to look me in the face. “You’re home. This is a come-as-you-are place. No cookies required. And I love that I can actually feel your ass in those pants,” he teases, but he doesn’t touch my bottom.

  Instead, he kisses my forehead and touches his nose to mine.

  “Can I kiss you now, babe? I need to know you’re really okay.” His intense blue eyes are staring, and I hear the basement door open. “But I missed the shit out of you and have been looking forward to those lips all day.”

  “Yo, asshole.” Before he can bend his face to mine, Vito’s voice echoes through the doorway and down into the basement. “You done making kissy faces yet? Pops wants the sweet potatoes.”

  “Fuckin’ V.” Franco groans and shakes his head. “Come on down, but you’re going to get an eyeful.”

  He leans down and claims my lips, and I’m giggling as we smooch. Vito storms past dramatically, covering his eyes and making sick sounds.

  “Ugh, you two.” He grabs the sweet potatoes from the counter, and as he rushes past, he shoves his face close to ours. He makes another gagging sound and sticks out his tongue, then looks at me seriously. “Glad you’re back, Chloe. Now get your asses upstairs. I’m fucking starving.”

  Vito shuffles upstairs wearing his trademark slippers with no socks, but he is wearing real pants and a flannel shirt for the holiday. He doesn’t bother closing the basement door, and Franco groans and shouts after him, “Asshole!” Franco releases me and cups my face in his hands. “I’d like Gracie to know the guy was caught, but why don’t I leave it to you to tell my family when you’re ready to talk about what happened tonight. That okay with you?”

  I nod.

  That’s perfect. I want to share the story, but I don’t want it to be the talk of Thanksgiving. Once all the small talk and bickering are over, I’ll find the right minute to tell the family.

  Before we head upstairs, Franco stops me. “I picked up something for you on the road,” he says. “It’s nothing big. I actually got it at a truck stop. It’s a piece of crap, I’m not going to lie. But I saw it, and I wanted to give you a little something. I’ll replace it with something nicer and more sparkly someday soon.”

  “Franco, you didn’t have to…” But he pulls the gift out of his pocket before I can protest. The small item is wrapped in a nearly sheer white plastic bag with the letters THANK YOU printed in red ink. It’s tiny enough to fit in his jeans pocket. I can’t imagine what he could have picked up on the road between my mom’s house and Star Falls, but knowing that he got it at a stop on the road trip he made makes it all the more special. Not to mention, it’s the first gift—other than a cell phone, a dog, and a heck of a lot of amazing orgasms—he’s given me. I unwrap the bag and inside find a tiny charm attached to a plastic card. The charm is gold toned and is in the shape of a key.

  “It’s to go with the heart Ma gave you,” he says. “I always want to be the man who unlocks your beautiful life. Or some shit,” he chuckles. “I’m no poet or whatever. I don’t really do words. But I love you, Chloe. I’ve never been more thankful that my mother is a meddling matchmaker.”

  I wipe away the tears of laughter and joy that collect around my eyes as I add the very meaningful charm to my necklace. “A few more of these and your mom’s going to think I’m copying her style.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he teases. He kisses me again, this time longer. His lips linger on mine, soft and insistent, sweet and whispering promises.

  “Yo, asshole.” This time, the voice that beckons from the top of the stairs is Benny’s. “What are you two doin’ down there? Pops is ready to carve the bird.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Franco sighs, but there’s a smile on his face. “You ready?”

  I take his hand and think over all the things that have come together in my life the last few weeks.

  Am I ready? Heck, yeah. I’ve never been more ready. The timing, the place, and the people couldn’t be more perfect.

  A new love, a new life, a forever home.

  “I’m ready,” I say, lacing my fingers through his, excited about the future.

  20

  Franco

  Three Weeks Later

  “What do you think?” I step back, taking in the new sign on the bookstore as Chloe stands next to me.

  She throws her arms around me as she stares at the front window. “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

  Those are the words I’d use to describe her and the way she’s seamlessly fit into my world. “It’s not too much?”

  “Is there such a thing?”

  I’ve learned that in the eyes of Chloe, Gracie, and my ma, there can never be too much of anything. When I started to design the sign, I gave them a few choices and they always selected the most colorful and loudest option. “It’ll grab people’s attention.”

  “That’s the point, silly.”

  I kiss the top of Chloe’s head, looking around the busy street. “Are you ready to close up?”

  Chloe looks down the street, soaking in the large crowds trying to get their shopping done before they run out of time. “Maybe another hour.”

  “I’ll stay, and then I’m taking you to Benny’s for a late dinner.”

  “Perfect,” she says to me before pushing herself away. “I’m starving.”

  “Me too,” I tell her, but I’m not hungry for food.

  She moves toward the door, but I grab the handle first, opening it for her. She doesn’t say a word, but she looks up at me with a smile that I don’t think could ever grow old.

  Chloe heads to the register, and I find an empty chair tucked away across the store to relax in. I grab a book off a random shelf that’s within arm’s reach and crack it open. I pretend to read because sitting in a bookstore without doing anything may seem weird, and I’m not here to creep out the customers.

  But when I make it beyond the first page, my phone vibrates, saving me.

  Gracie: Do not buy me clothes for Christmas, assholes. Do you hear me?

  I laugh as I read her message, remembering all the horrible outfits we’ve bought her over the years. She’s impossible to buy for, and as she’s gotten older, it’s become worse.

  Benito: What the hell do you want, then?

  Vito: What’s wrong with the clothes we bought for you last year? They were the latest fashion.

  Gracie: Do I look like I shop at Mico’s?

  Benito: All stores have the same shit.

  Me: I didn’t get you clothes.

  Thankfully, I had Chloe to help me find the perfect gifts for Gracie this year. Without her, I would’ve ended up buying her a new robe or other bullshit she’d probably have no use for. My brothers are easy, but when it comes to Gracie, my mind goes blank.

  Vito: You don’t count. You have Chloe to help.

  Busted.

  I glance up from my phone, watching Chloe as she chats with customers. She looks more alive than I’ve ever seen her. The store is filled with people, and that means money. She no longer seems worried about the future of the store, which is a relief.

  Benito: I was going to get you perfume. Cool?

  Gracie: What kind?

  Benito: If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.

  Gracie: If it’s aerosol from a chain store, then it’s garbage.

  Benito: Didn’t know you were so fancy.

  Gracie: I’ve known you assholes my entire life, and all you can come up with are robes, pajamas, and crappy perfume.

  Vito: You’re kind of a picky bitch, sis.

  Benito: Too bad she’s not as picky with her men.

  Gracie: Um, I’ve seen what you invite into your bed. I wouldn’t talk about my choices in lovers, B.

  I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing and causing a scene inside the bookstore. Although it’s busy, it’s still too damn quiet.

  Benito: They’re all beautiful creatures in their own way.

  Vito: How about a Mico’s gift card?

  Gracie: Don’t be a dumbass.

  Vito: Me or him?

  Gracie: Both of you.

  Vito: What about Franco?

  Gracie: I know Chloe has my back.

  I cringe a little, even though I’m pretty sure Chloe nailed every gift for Gracie.

  Benito: Isn’t it the thought that counts?

  Gracie: Yeah, but I’m pretty sure Mico’s and robes require no thought.

  She has a point, but we do put thought into her gifts. We have entire threads of text messages, trying to figure out what to get her, but always come up blank. It’s hard enough for one of us to come up with a solid idea, but for all three of us…it’s impossible.

  Vito: I still don’t understand what the problem is with Mico’s.

  Gracie: They have beautiful clothes that never wrinkle, but I’m not ready for the Mico’s chapter in my life.

  Benito: What did you get me?

  Gracie: Condoms.

  Benito: Solid idea, but I hate using them.

  Me: You’re going to hate a screaming baby more.

  Benito: I’m pretty damn sure I’m shooting blanks.

  Me: You’re willing to risk the chance?

  Benito: Haven’t knocked someone up yet.

  That’s my brother’s dumbass logic. It hasn’t happened yet, so he figures it never will. He’s bright with some things but so goddamn dense with others.

  Me: Well, that’s a good way to look at it. You’ve gotten lucky so far, might as well try to keep the streak alive.

  Gracie: Sounds like a beautiful way to become a father. Lord knows, you only bang the best.

  Me: By best you mean anyone with breasts, then he does.

  Gracie: Someday you’re going to have a person show up on your doorstep, and you’re going to find out your thoughts that you were sterile were all bullshit.

  That sounds like my mother’s dream come true. She’d be over the moon if grandkids popped up randomly and the family grew quickly.

  Benito: Not happening. No one’s told me they were pregnant.

  Gracie: I’m sure they’d be more than excited to tell you the news after you discarded them like the half-eaten scraps in your restaurant.

  Benito: I treat them all like queens, even if their reign is short.

  Gracie: You’re all pigs.

  Me: Not me. Don’t lump me in with those boneheads.

  Gracie: You’ve changed your ways.

  Me: I’ve never been like those two.

  Benito: We’re not monsters.

  Vito: We’re lovers.

  Gracie: Whatever.

  Me: B, I’m bringing Chloe over for dinner in a bit as soon as she closes up the store.

  Benito: I’ll make something special.

  Me: Thanks, bro.

  Gracie: I’m starving.

  Vito: Me too.

  Gracie: Why don’t we all go?

  I glance up at the ceiling, wanting a nice dinner alone with my girl. But I know Chloe, and she loves to be surrounded by my brothers and sister. It must be an only child thing because every chance she gets, she invites them over.

  Me: Meet there at 9:30.

  Gracie: Perfect. My last appointment cancelled.

  Vito: Solid.

  Benito: I’ll go save a table.

  Gracie: You’ll eat with us?

  Benito: You just spent five minutes beating me up, and you want me to sit down and have a civilized meal?

  Gracie: I took years of your brotherly abuse and still talk to you. I think you can take a few text messages with the reality of your choices.

  Vito: Babe, you gave as good as you got. I have some scars to prove it.

  Gracie: I learned from the best.

  Benito: I have to go prep our dinner.

  Gracie: Nothing too greasy.

  Benito: Picky.

  Vito: See you in an hour.

  Me: Bye.

  Gracie: Later.

  Benito: Peace.

  “This is Lexi,” Benito says, walking up the table with his hand against a new women’s back.

  “New flavor of the month,” Gracie mutters under her breath into her glass of wine.

  I give her a chin lift. “Hey.”

  “She’s going to join us tonight,” Benito informs us, pulling over a spare chair from another table.

  This is new. He’s never invited anyone to sit with us, not even his close friends.

  “Cool,” Vito says, barely looking up because he’s too busy stuffing his face with the fresh baked bread. “The more, the merrier.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Lexi,” Chloe says to her as she slides into the wood chair as elegantly as I’ve seen anyone do it before.

  Gracie’s staring at Lexi like she has two heads. “I’m just…this is different.”

  “Be nice, Grace,” Vito tells her like she’s a little kid about to make a scene.

  “We’re old friends,” Lexi says to the table, but she can’t take her eyes off my brother. “We haven’t seen each other in years.”

  Surprisingly, Benito’s staring at Lexi the exact same way. I never remember him talking about her, but by the look on his face, it was more than a fling. “It’s been at least a decade. I can’t believe you wandered in here tonight of all nights and to my restaurant.”