I just bet he did.
I wasn’t going to lie and say the next couple of days were easy. Even with painkillers, I was hurting—translation: cranky—and I had yet to mentally process what had happened. That was going to take a while.
Nor would I say that Miriam and I had worked out all our issues. We hadn’t. However, we had made significant progress.
For her part, Miriam was going to take more responsibility for her own life. Nick Penn—aka Nick Cerasino—had introduced her to some paranormal-fantasy author groups and encouraged her to take some creative writing classes at the community college to hone her craft.
And me? Well, I was going to take a step or ten back and assume a quietly supportive role instead of a dominant one.
Before I knew it, a week had gone by. I still looked like I’d met the business end of a Mack truck, but physically, I was feeling much improved, and it was time for me to go home.
The thing was, Boston didn’t really feel like home to me. It never had. I didn’t have family there. No friends to speak of. I had some coworkers that I got along with, but our relationships were based on shared circumstance, nothing more. Case in point: not one of them had called to ask how I was or why I hadn’t returned.
I thought that said a lot.
Thanks to Paul, I still had a job. Since I’d used all my PTO time, this last week spent recuperating were considered unapproved absences and grounds for dismissal. Paul had made some calls and assured me I had something to go back to.
While I appreciated his thoughtfulness, I almost wished he hadn’t. If I’d lost my job in the DA’s office, I wouldn’t have had a reason to return.
The truth was, the more I thought about leaving, the more I didn’t want to go. Miriam and I were finally connecting, and I felt more at home in Cecilton after two weeks than I had in Boston after a year. The place had really grown on me. I liked the relaxed pace and the perfect balance between small-town charm and big-city living.
Mostly, I liked the people. One sexy Italian counselor in particular.
Paul had been great. I mean, really great. He called to check on me every day. He brought over takeout from Mama C’s, so I didn’t have to leave the apartment, looking like the Bride of Frankenstein. He’d even slipped me busywork to keep me from pulling my hair out in boredom.
Don’t hold that against him. He was only doing what I’d asked. Begging might have been involved.
But I had to go back, right?
I had a job and a lease, and as much as I wanted to stay, Miriam’s words continued to play on a loop in the back of my head. “No one asked you to.”
Chapter Eighteen: Paulie
Once again, time was running out. I didn’t want to make the same mistake I’d made the first time. I didn’t want Allison to go. I wanted to give her a reason to stay. Namely, me.
The thing was, I didn’t know how Allison felt. She didn’t seem to be stoked about returning to Boston, but that might just be wishful thinking on my part.
I’d done everything I could be to be supportive without pressuring her. I called her every day. I used the massive kitchen at the restaurant to create dishes I thought she’d enjoy. I even pulled a few strings to ensure she had a job to go back to, if she wanted it.
So, I did what any thirty-something man would do in my situation. I called my brothers and invited them out for a beer.
“Okay, so what gives?” Vinnie asked after we were seated in the back of the IAC, or Italian American Club. Owned by my uncle Rico, it was a dark place, reminiscent of its time as a speakeasy back in the day.
As the oldest, I was usually the one everyone else came to for advice, not the other way around. But I was truly torn on this one. These were uncharted waters for me.
“How did you know?” I asked.
I didn’t have to explain. They knew exactly what I was talking about.
Nick shrugged. “I thought about Kat all the time. Wanted to be around her even if it was just being in the same room with her.”
Vinnie nodded. “Same with Haven. The best part of my day was dropping by the diner every night at the end of my shift, knowing she’d be there.”
I understood that because that was exactly how I felt. When I was with Allison, I felt better. And when I wasn’t, all I could think about was being with her again.
“I’ve never felt so in sync with anyone before,” I admitted.
In my mind, I’d been building a case for exactly why I believed Allison and I belonged together. Like me, Allison was a logical, practical person, and I felt as if presenting the facts to her in a logical, practical fashion was the way to go.
Dom, however, suggested a completely different approach. He tipped his bottle in my direction. “You’re overthinking this. Have you kissed her yet?”
I shook my head. I’d wanted to though so, so many times.
“You should,” Nick said, nodding.
“You sound like Nonno.”
“Have you ever known him to be wrong?”
He had a valid point.
“So, what are you waiting for?” Vinnie asked with a grin. “Go kiss your woman and remove any doubt.”
“What, right now?”
“Yes, right now. You’ve stalled enough. No more delays, Counselor.”
I went out to my car and called Allison. She answered on the first ring. Just hearing her voice made me feel better.
“Are you busy?”
“Not really. What’s up?”
“There’s someplace I’d like to show you.”
“Oh ... I don’t ...”
I understood her reticence. She hadn’t wanted to leave Miriam’s apartment all week, unwilling to draw attention to herself and the way she looked. Where I was taking her, that wouldn’t be a concern.
“Do you trust me, Ally?” I
