Hook Read online

  “If we’re going out as friends, I can’t allow you to pay.”

  “I’m asking you to dinner. Whatever you want to call it. We barely know anything about each other, but I want to know more about you. I’d like to just kick back, have some food and good company instead of listening to two kids bicker through an entire meal.”

  She laughs. “Your kids are great, Angelo.”

  “I wish I could take credit for them being amazing little people, but I think that has more to do with their mother than me.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re amazing with them.”

  I realize that I just referred to Marissa as their mother instead of my wife for the first time since she died. It feels almost dirty.

  “Whatever we’re calling it, I’m free tonight,” she says, not giving me any more time to dwell on the guilt that has already started to creep in. “Unless that’s too soon.”

  “Tonight would be great,” I say quickly because if I put it off, I’ll probably chicken out. “It’ll be nice.”

  “Want me to come back here?”

  “I’ll pick you up.” I want to do this thing right.

  She stares at me for a moment, biting her lip. “I live in the South Loop. Are you sure it’s not too far?”

  “Just be ready at eight. I better get back and get the kids.”

  We both climb to our feet, and there’s an awkward moment where we stare at each other.

  “I owe you big time for your help, Angelo. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

  “I didn’t do you a favor to have you in my debt. Dinner is payment enough.”

  For a second, I think she’s going to hug me, but she backs away instead. Maybe she feels what I do. An intense connection that’s there and undeniable, but there are so many complications in our past, it stops us from acting.

  We’re in a constant state of immobility.

  Trapped by the memories of someone who’s no longer here.

  9

  Tilly

  Roger’s sitting on my bed, typing frantically on his phone as I go through every item of clothing in my closet. “Stop worrying so much.”

  That’s easy for him to say. He’s a serial dater, and everything in his closet is spot-on.

  “You’re not helping.” I push all the dresses to one side of the closet and realize everything I own is dressy.

  “Wear the black dress.”

  “Which one?” I own ten black dresses because a girl can never have too many.

  “The tight sweater dress with the sweetheart neckline.”

  “But that’s…”

  He cuts me off. “It’s slutty yet sexy. Not too over the top. The girls will be visible but not on full display. If the man’s ready to move on, that number will do the trick.”

  I lift the dress he’s talking about off the rack and stare at it. “It’s not really cold-weather friendly, Roger.”

  “Stop being so practical all the time, Til. Wear a warm coat, and you’ll be fine. It’s not like you’re walking to the restaurant.” He laughs, finally tossing his phone to the side when I step out of the closet holding the dress in my hand. “Where are you going anyway?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t say.” I hold the dress against my body and stare at Roger, looking for more of his help. “Hair up or down?”

  I usually don’t need his input when getting dressed, but I haven’t been out with a man in so long, I’m not sure exactly what to do. I feel like a teenager getting ready for a first date without a single fucking clue in life.

  “Up. Your neckline is too beautiful to hide, and it’ll show off your rack better.”

  “Roger, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re fond of my breasts.”

  Roger stands, taking the sweater dress from my hands and grabbing my black push-up bra from the back of my door. “I can still appreciate the female body even if it’s not my cup of tea. Wear this and the red stilettos. You’ll be a knockout, kid.”

  I frown, imagining myself all dressed-up and way overdone. “It’s not too much?”

  “You can never overdress, Til.” Roger grabs my shoulders and stares at me. “You like this guy?”

  “I think so.”

  “Stop lying. You wouldn’t be going through all this agony over an outfit if you didn’t feel something for him.”

  “Fine,” I groan. “I like him.”

  “Go shower. Shave your legs.”

  I gawk at him with my mouth hanging open.

  “It’s best to be prepared. You never know where the night’s going to take you.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not ready for that step.”

  “Your armor is hairy legs?”

  I stick my leg out, running my fingers across the light stubble. “They’re not hairy.”

  “They’re not smooth either. Shave them. Leave everything else if you need a safeguard for keeping your newfound virginity.”

  “Fine.” I snatch my dress and bra from his hands.

  “If it gets hot and heavy, you may regret your decision.”

  “Men have it so fucking easy,” I mumble.

  “Hey. We manscape,” Roger says before I close the door to the bathroom.

  “Manscape. That’s laughable.”

  I stare at myself in the mirror, wondering how far I’d be willing to go with Angelo if I had the chance. No one has touched me in so long. Today, when I fell and he caught me, I didn’t do much to get out of his arms. It felt way too good to have a pair of strong arms surrounding me. I’d almost forgotten how comforting that can be.

  Thirty minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom with my hair pulled into a tight bun and the black sweater dress showing off my girls thanks to the help of the push-up bra I typically save for special occasions.

  Roger sits up a little straighter on my bed and places his phone in his lap. He whistles. “If there’s any hope for this man, he’ll be on you like white on rice.”

  “You’re ridiculous.” I wave Roger off.

  “If I were straight, I’d be all over you.”

  “That wouldn’t be awkward or anything.” I snort. “Red lipstick or clear lip gloss?” I hold up two tubes.

  Even the smallest decision is giving me trouble. Red lipstick is usually my go-to, but with Angelo, I don’t want to come off as a sex kitten looking to get laid. I want the classic beauty without the whorish undertones. I figure the dress already has me halfway to the hooker finish line, and the last thing I want to do is bust through the red tape right onto easy street.

  “Red lips are always a must on occasions like this.”

  “It’s a dinner as friends,” I remind him, even though I’m dressed like I’m ready to pounce on my prey and get busy.

  “I’m sure it’s easier for you both to lie to yourselves with that line.”

  I wonder if that’s what we’re doing, but there’s no time to dissect whatever that is this evening.

  As soon as there’s a knock at the door, my stomach knots. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe I’m not ready. No amount of coaching or convincing myself that I am can make it so.

  Breathe, Tilly. Breathe.

  “It’s time.” Roger rolls off the bed, looking just as good as he did when he got here. That’s the thing about men. They always look the same, and I hate them a little bit for it too. “Too late to back out. Do you want me to call you in a few hours as an out?”

  I shake my head, but the option is tempting. “I have to grow up someday, and I don’t think I need an exit strategy with Angelo.”

  Roger grabs my shoulders and squeezes as he stares me in the eyes. “You can do this, Tilly. You deserve this. Allow yourself to enjoy tonight. You’re still here and alive, but now you need to start acting on it. Regret’s a bitch to live with.”

  I’ve had enough regret to last a lifetime. The last thing I need is more. I need to start taking control of my life and allow myself to indulge in things I’ve abstained from for years.

  “Stay in her
e. I don’t want Angelo to get the wrong idea. Let yourself out.”

  Roger nods. “Have fun. I expect a full rundown tomorrow.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I give him two quick kisses on each cheek. “Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need luck with tits like those, Til.”

  “Coming!” I yell as I run toward the door, leaving Roger in my bedroom, and Angelo knocks again.

  I take a deep breath as I touch the doorknob, giving myself a minute to get my shit together. “You got this,” I say because somehow saying it out loud makes me feel better. Mental? Maybe, but it works. “It’s not a date. We’re just friends.”

  When I open the door, Angelo’s leaning against the wall in a white dress shirt, black slacks, and looking yummier than he does when he’s wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. The man could wear a paper sack and make it look good.

  “Hey.” My stomach flutters, and I drink him in.

  His eyes travel up my body, and there’s a hunger in his eyes. “You’re stunning.”

  My body warms at the compliment, and parts of me that haven’t been touched by another human in years remind me they’re still alive too.

  “Thank you.” I stop myself from downplaying the outfit or how I look in it. “You’re looking quite dashing yourself.”

  Dashing isn’t the right word. I’m totally out of sync with the realities of dating in my thirties. Who the fuck says dashing anymore?

  The man looks straight-up edible. Like I could spend hours exploring every dip and ridge if I were ready for that. I’m big at talking—hell, even thinking about all the naughty things I could do with him.

  But would I?

  I haven’t let another man touch me in so long, I’m not sure I could actually go through with it. My head knows Mitchell isn’t here anymore, but my heart hasn’t quite caught up.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes,” I say simply because I don’t want to seem overeager about this evening.

  I’m excited to be going out with someone, even if we’re only friends, because in a city of millions of people, I have very few I consider friends. There’s always room for one more, especially a sexy drink of water like Angelo.

  He steps to the side, giving me room to pass like a true gentleman. I can feel the heat of his gaze on my back as I walk in front of him. “Where are we going?”

  “I thought we’d go for some steak. There’s a popular place not too far from here. Unless you’d like something else. But if you’re in the mood for something more casual, we can do that too. I’m easy. I like everything.”

  “I’m kind of in the mood for pizza.”

  His heavy footsteps stop behind me. “Pizza?”

  I glance over my shoulder. “It’s my favorite. I heard there’s a great place on the South Side, Vito & Nick’s.”

  Angelo’s eyebrows rise. “You really want to go to Vito & Nick’s?” he asks as he starts walking again to catch up with me.

  I nod because there’s nothing better than a thin crust pizza covered with hot, gooey cheese and a cold beer to wash it down. “Yeah. Why’s that so hard to believe?”

  “You just don’t look like the pizza type, and then there’s your outfit.”

  I laugh. “I’m very much a pizza girl.”

  I can feel his body heat against my skin in the cold hallway. “Are you sure?”

  I glance upward, taking in his ice-blue eyes and knowing I could get lost in them. “I’m sure. I want to relax, and there’s nothing relaxing about a stuffy, overpriced steakhouse.”

  We’re within steps of my building’s front door when Angelo places his hand on the small of my back. It’s gentle but unmistakable. I’m rendered speechless, almost unable to breathe.

  I’ve missed being touched like this. The move isn’t forward or sexual, but manly and comforting. Something Mitchell did often, and I forgot how much I missed so simple an action.

  “Pizza, it is.” He ushers me outside with his hand still on me. “Whatever makes you happy.”

  My insides are a jumbled mess. My stomach’s fluttering like a horde of butterflies was let loose in a tiny box, banging against the sides and trying to escape.

  This man did that to me.

  He makes me want and crave things I haven’t wanted in far too long.

  10

  Angelo

  The evening’s going better than I ever could’ve imagined. I haven’t felt this comfortable around someone in so long. There hasn’t been a moment of quiet, and for that, I’m thankful.

  “Another?” I ask, holding the pitcher of beer in my grip as I fill my glass.

  Tilly nods and pushes her glass toward me. “I could drink you under the table,” she teases and leans over the table. “Don’t forget, I grew up on moonshine.”

  “I beg to differ. I don’t drink often with the kids around, but I’ve been known to hold my liquor better than most.”

  “Want to put your money where your mouth is?” She raises an eyebrow, challenging me.

  God, I love a woman who’s willing to gamble, especially on trivial shit that really doesn’t matter.

  “Maybe. I don’t recover as quickly as I used to when I was younger. A hangover with two little kids is not fun.”

  She winces. “I can’t even imagine. I don’t know how you do it.”

  “What? Take care of the kids?”

  “How you survived,” she tells me as her mood darkens, and she stares down at her beer. “I couldn’t even take care of myself for a long time. I don’t know if I could’ve kept two kids alive in my grief.”

  “My family helped for a while, especially Lucio. But you kind of go on autopilot and just take it day by day. There’s so much I don’t remember from the first year because I went through the motions in a complete fog.”

  Sometimes I’m surprised we all survived Marissa’s death. I couldn’t have made it through that dark time without my family. There are days, even now, I’m not sure I can do it, but the kids pull me forward and keep me in the present.

  “I know the feeling.” She sighs and brings her green eyes back to mine. “Do you ever feel guilty?”

  “Every day.”

  “I feel guilty right now,” she admits.

  “Do you feel like you’re cheating?” I ask.

  She nods slowly. “There’s always a part of me that’s thinking about Mitchell, and being here with you, enjoying your company, somehow feels wrong. Like I’m cheating on his memory and our vows.”

  I know exactly what she’s talking about. Everything feels like a betrayal. Even breathing, when Marissa no longer can, feels wrong. The guilt has waned over time, but sometimes it’s still suffocating.

  I reach across the table and place my hand on top of hers. “I feel the same way, Tilly. I don’t think you can truly love a person and lose them without feeling that way.”

  “I haven’t been out with another man since.” She’s staring at my fingers as I swipe my thumb across her wrist. “I haven’t let another man touch me since then either.”

  “When you say forever, it’s hard to open yourself up again. My family keeps telling me it’s time, but…”

  “No one knows unless they’ve been through what we’ve been through, Angelo.”

  “This is the closest thing to a date I’ve done since Marissa died.”

  Michelle wasn’t dating. That wasn’t love. There were no feelings involved. We never went all the way either, and I never kissed her on the mouth. It never felt right. That’s why I knew there wasn’t a future for us, but I wasn’t sure how to tell her until she chose to leave town.

  In the end, the limited pleasure wasn’t worth the guilt I felt afterward.

  “Well.” Tilly turns her hand over, intertwining her fingers with mine. “Why don’t we call this a date, even though it’s not. Then we don’t have to say we haven’t? We’ll make this the first part in our comeback, or at least, get a few people off our backs.”

  “That could work.�
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  A small part of me wishes we were really on a date.

  I like Tilly.

  I like her a lot.

  She’s easy, light, and so full of bubbly energy, I want to surround myself with her and never let go.

  I hadn’t realized I was still holding her hand. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world. We hadn’t taken our eyes off each other as our bodies were connected, sitting across the table from each other. This was, in fact, the closest thing I’d had to a date in years.

  “Roger says I need to move on and stop living my life in the past.”

  “He sounds a lot like Daphne and my mother.”

  “He means well. They all do. I have to be honest with you.” She glances down. “Your mother has talked to me about you.”

  My body tenses, and I don’t know how I feel about that. It’s everything I’d expect of her. She has balls of steel and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. “I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing I can say. I hate that Tilly felt put on the spot.

  “Don’t be.” She peers up, looking me straight in the eyes. “That’s not the part I wanted to be honest about.”

  “Oh.” My eyebrows rise.

  “The day we met, with the mixer on the floor, I know I came on really strong, or you could say, a bit crazy.”

  “It was adorable.”

  She blushes. “I had made a vow to Roger that I wouldn’t be so closed off with the next man who turned my head.”

  I swallow hard, knowing I was that guy. The one who turned her head.

  “I hadn’t found any man interesting or truly attractive until you walked into my kitchen with your big muscles and handsome face. You were the first man who made me feel like I wanted more. Like I was ready to move on with my life.”

  “Really?” I ask, taken aback but also intrigued.

  “Yes.” She bites her lip. “I feel like a fool telling you this, but in the name of transparency, I want to be honest with you.”

  I run my finger across the underside of her wrist. “To be honest, I haven’t had another woman spark my interest as much as you have in the last few days. You’re charming, beautiful, and a little bit of a firecracker. So, in the name of transparency, as you say, I like you a lot, and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that.”