My nipples hardened into sharp peaks and I rocked against him, thrashing against his iron grip, and desperately riding the torrent of desire cresting inside me, until I tipped over some unseen precipice and my body fireworked. It was that good.
I burst into tears. Huge, shuddering and snot-filled, I was helpless against them. I cried for my dad and my mom and all the days that could have been and weren’t. My grief had zones: my stomach hurt, my back was cold, my hands felt swollen and hot, and my head throbbed. The dad-shaped hole in my heart bled afresh.
Levi gathered me to him, cradling me close and stroking my hair while I rode it out, a fresh supply of tissues at the ready.
The tears dried up like they always do, every last shard of crystalized grief excised from my chest. “My father is dead. Killed fifteen years ago by the assassin who stole his fake passport.”
Levi winced. “On whose orders? 26L1?”
I nodded.
Levi took my face in hands. “We’ll find him and make sure he pays. I swear.” He sealed his vow with a tender kiss. “I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “There isn’t. But thanks.”
“How about a date?”
I lifted my head to look at him. “Don’t you have to work?”
“All I’ve got left is my training session with Miles.” He flexed a bicep. “I’m such a prime specimen of manhood that it’s really not necessary.”
All kidding aside, my hyper-responsible boyfriend wanted to shirk his responsibilities just to cheer me up? I smiled. “A date would be perfect.”
I insisted on going home to change and shower. The only instructions Levi gave me vis-à-vis clothing was to dress warm.
Priya wasn’t home. However angry she was at me, Mrs. Hudson wasn’t feeling the effects, since Pri had taken the pug from Levi this morning at work.
It was cold tonight, so I bundled into a coat and gloves, and pulled a fleece cap low over my ears before going down to meet Levi.
He picked me up in a black Jeep with tinted windows that belonged to the House, refusing to say where we were going. I tried to figure it out, but by the time we’d reached the boundary between Vancouver and Burnaby, I’d run out of guesses.
He pulled up alongside Confederation Park, a huge green space running for blocks next to one of the library and community centers in Burnaby. During the summer, families would picnic here all day, while kids splashed in the water park or played at the sprawling playground. There was even a model steam train you could ride down in the far corner.
Tonight, it was deserted. Levi took my gloved hand and led me toward trees at the east side of the park.
“Did I mention I’m not a fan of horror movies?” I said.
“Think more epic showdown, less slasher.”
Lights up ahead broke the gloom. We’d arrived at the bocce ball courts.
It was packed with old men, not one of them younger than seventy, whose lined faces showed lives well lived, if not always easily so. They greeted Levi with an affectionate “Ragazzo!” and enveloped him in hugs, back pats, and kisses on both cheeks, all of which he enthusiastically returned.
My heart clenched. How starved had young Levi been for this kind of family?
“Shouldn’t you have illusioned me?” I whispered when he tugged me forward to introduce me. I scanned all their faces, seeking a flicker of betrayal, a phone pulled out to snap a photo. More than ever, I was highly aware of who might be watching.
“I trust every single one of them,” Levi said. “Being House Head, I’ve had to find places where I can be me without it hitting social media. This is one of them.”
Trusting his judgment, I allowed myself to be introduced to the men, most of whom teased Levi good-naturedly about never bringing any friends with him before. I was hugged and given kisses on the cheek as well, which was initially overwhelming. I’d been an only child in a single parent home and was a loner by nature, but there was such goodwill and high humor to this encounter that I found myself awkwardly returning their embraces.
All while Levi watched me with an affectionate smile.
The goodwill, however, ended the second the bocce started. Competitive did not begin to cover it. Their smack talk game, uttered in a combination of English and Italian was superb. And the arguing? Every single throw stopped the game while five or six of them debated the move loudly and with much hand gesturing.
I’d never played bocce before, and while Levi had offered to have me on his team, he was waved away by the undisputed leader of the group, a stocky man who was eighty-five if he was day, called Luciano.
Luce, as he insisted I call him, drilled the proper form into me like a Russian gymnastics coach, but he also mediated on my behalf, his fierce, bushy glower earning me a few points that I probably didn’t deserve.
It was the most fun I’d had in ages. Especially with Levi lit up and joking around with an ease he rarely displayed. Between our turns he was always at my side, his arm around my waist or his hand resting at the small of my back.
My grief over my dad wasn’t gone, but getting to be this way with Levi did much to banish it to a quiet muting.
Levi eventually said we had to leave and the group told me to come back any time. Even without Levi. He grinned, shaking his head, and said something in Italian that made them all laugh uproariously.
Luce motioned me over to his bench, since he rarely got up when it wasn’t his turn. Arthritis, he’d explained earlier. He took my hand and kissed it like a benediction. “You’re a good girl, bella. Take care of that one.”
“I will,” I said through an
