shoulders, and crooked breasts, with the right one smaller than the left. But she’d forgive the size difference if her breasts ever managed to feed a baby. That would be miraculous. Nursing a baby was the direct antithesis of surrendering a baby.
With an exhale that dropped her shoulders a smidge, Trish patted her stomach below her belly button. If she ovulated and Tony’s sperm managed to survive the twenty-four hours of upheaval that followed, she was technically pregnant. She frowned, because it was still a long shot. She was too practical and realistic to think one time would work.
But there was a chance. And as long as there was a chance, she couldn’t take any chances with Stu, who left a message two hours ago. She hated the thought of ignoring him, but she hated the thought of further complicating what was already complicated.
Trish shook her head and shuffled into her closet. She ruffled the clothes until she settled on a CMU sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants. As a rule, there were no buttons or zippers after work hours, and that wasn’t going to change because Tony was on his way with pizza.
He tried to get her to go out, but with all this chaos swirling around her, she only wanted to hide, which was better done alone, but for some reason Tony insisted. Maybe he was still nursing a guilty conscience from the confrontation with Angie. They were supposed to be dating after all, and this was what dating couples did. They ate pizza and watched episodes of
The doorbell rang as she put finishing touches on her braided hair, securing it with a band and tossing the tail over her shoulder. She padded bare feet over the area rug in her bedroom and onto the hardwoods in the hall. With each step, her heart beat faster. She’d read enough about pregnancy to know blood volume increased. Was that the cause of her racing heart? At the bottom of the stairs, she saw Tony’s silhouette through the stained glass, and her stomach tumbled. Could she be getting morning sickness this soon and this late in the day?
With a clammy hand, she gripped the knob and opened the door to find him smiling on her front porch, pizza box in hand. A grocery bag dangled from his other hand.
“Delivery,” he said.
She smiled back. “Hey, you.” And stepping aside, she waved him in.
He didn’t move. He stood there with that goofy grin on his gorgeous face. “I like your hair.”
She felt a ridiculous blush creep up her neck and fan across her face. Silly. “Thank you.”
He moved then, brushing by her, angling the pizza box toward the living room. When he passed, she leaned a smidge closer and drew a lungful of his air, as if on some level she knew just the scent of him would banish the worry of the day. They were in this together after all. In a matter of weeks he’d become her sole confidante.
“Where do you want it, kitchen, living room, dining room?”
“Family room,” she said slowly and deliberately. “I’m all set up in there.”
He faced her, raising a brow. “Right. No televisions allowed in formal living rooms, which is another reason why they’re wasted space.”
“Televisions are welcome in a formal setting as long as they’re hidden. If you prefer to watch in the living room on my nineteen-inch screen, then we can certainly forego the sixty-incher.” She walked by him with a smirk, grabbing the heavy bag from his hand.
He followed, chuckling behind her. “I’m good with sixty inches.”
“I figured you would be.” She looked inside the bag. A clear plastic container of the salad she requested rested alongside a two-liter of diet caffeine-free soda. This time, he didn’t come bearing beer. She wasn’t sure what to make of that.
On one hand, beer represented his need to calm both their nerves before they… Thinking about having sex with Tony while he was walking behind her did uncomfortable things to her skin. She fidgeted against the prickles. On the other hand, beer sort of signified the plan to relax and maybe take things too far. She fidgeted again. What did soda signify?
“Half pepp, half cheese, just how you like it.” He put the box on the wet bar counter next to the paper plates and flipped open the lid. Drawing a deep breath over the pie, he hummed. “Mm, mm. There’s nothing like pizza.” And then he picked off a piece of pepperoni and tossed it into his mouth. There was something charming about the mannerless adoration. And that was Tony in a nutshell, charming despite the lack of refinement. He was good company, too.
She unloaded the bag, placing the soda on the counter near the sink, and dumping the salad into a nearby bowl. As she worked, Tony wandered over to the big screen, where he whistled.
“What are you a fan of that requires a TV this big? Wait…” he held up a hand, “don’t tell me. Mixed martial arts?”
She wrinkled her nose.
“You’re a gamer then, aren’t you? Call of Duty? Halo?”
She nodded. “You caught me. I’m a regular sniper.”
He picked up the DVD case which was resting on the end table. “No way. This is what you do? That’s a slap in the beautiful face of this screen.”
“That’s what
“Yeah, but why would I want to? The only reason a guy watches this crap is to get lucky with the girl who wants to watch it in the first place.” He stared at her with a sparkle in his eyes and a hitch in his lip.
The deafening sound of an opening soda bottle filled the room. Trish had no idea what was coming over her, but flirtatious words she could never imagine saying pushed against her lips, demanding to be said until she couldn’t hold them back any longer.
“So, are you going to watch it with me or what?”
She needed sunglasses to weather his full-blown smile. “Sure,” he said, walking to the bar, grabbing a piece of pizza and taking a generous bite. “As long as we’re clear on the motivation.”
Oh, they were clear. He wanted sex. For fun. And the same mischievous part of her that spoke those flirty words couldn’t be giddier. Of course, the sensible part of her would commence worry any minute now.
“If I watch that garbage, then you’ll be my date to Vin’s concert for Nonna.” He nudged her with his elbow. “It’ll be our first official appearance at a family function as a couple.”
Let the worrying begin.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Trish had been to dozens of Corcarelli family functions over the years, but always as Angie’s guest. Going with Tony was going to be weird. But if she was gutsy enough to make a baby with him, she better be gutsy enough to face his family while hanging on his arm. Nonna and Mrs. Corcarelli might find it strange. Vin might be hostile. She could handle that.
Mostly, Trish was worried about Angie.
“I’ll deal with my sister,” Tony said, like he could read her mind. But he couldn’t, he probably saw her staring at the picture of Angie and her in Cabo last year.
Now Trish couldn’t get Angie to follow her across town, let alone out of the country, and the distance between them weighed heavy in Trish’s bones, making her tired enough to let Tony fight this battle with his sister. But that wasn’t fair to him. Angie and Tony’s relationship was already strained. He didn’t need Trish and her cockamamie plan making things worse.
“Technically I got you into this mess, so I’ll be the one to smooth things over with Ange,” Trish said, hiding a yawn behind her hand. “I may not look like it now, but I’m a formidable negotiator.”
He grinned. “Yeah, I know what you’re capable of.” His hand rested on the granite inches from hers, and she had the irrational hope he would touch her. Irrational because he’d touched her enough—this month anyway. Wanting him to touch her more was overindulgent and a one-way ticket to messy, considering the way he
