"You're attending a social gathering tomorrow at the Evans?" Anthony asks as he gets under the covers with me.
I laid down on the bed and tugged the sheets up. I'm not surprised that Anthony knows, after all, he has people monitoring me every hour of the day. I'm not even concerned since it's all for my safety. "They want me to run, but I'm not going to run without making a bit of a storm."
Anthony chuckles and shakes his head. His hand rests on top of my hair. "My little wife is getting stronger by the day."
I slap his hand away. "I'm not a little girl."
He grabs my wrist and pulls me over before leaping on top of my body. His hands trace downward, "With this body, how could I ever think such a thing." I moan when he slips his hands underneath my shirt before he pulls the covers over us.
I definitely need another day at the spa.
I sat inside the car with the phone in my hand. "He tricked you," Lily said.
"What?"
"Ann. You just told me you two went to base three. That's like one freaking baseball hit into homeroom and towards fuckity fuckville of happily orgasmic ever after."
"He's my husband," I grumble.
"He's slowly tricking you into bed, Ann. Why can't you admit it?"
"How do you know?"
"Because he's Italian! They are untrustworthy men! Always sprouting out romantic words and their spaghetti!"
I'm confused about the second part but brush it off. "You're sleeping with Pietro."
"So?"
"He's Italian!"
"Well, I don't have many options, okay? We are in Italy!"
I sigh, pressing my fingers against my temple. "Okay. So what if Anthony uses sweet words to get me into bed? Lils, I...I don't dislike Anthony."
There's a long trace of silence. "Do you...Do you-" Lily breathes rapidly. "Don't tell me! Ann! Do you-"
I bit my lower lip and closed my eyes. "Yes, I like Anthony."
"Like...like like?"
I open my eyes feeling the butterflies inside my stomach. "I think...I do like like Anthony."
"And you're telling me it's not because of his double o fatso meatballs?"
Well.
"No! No! Not that! It's more emotional than- wait what did you say?"
I knew I shouldn't have told Lily about the nickname I gave Anthony. The nickname he had forbidden me to call him in front of everyone.
"Double o fatso meatballs!" she squeals. "No way! You like his double o fatso uneven meatballs!"
"Anthony's meatballs aren't uneven."
I can tell she is rolling her eyes. "All meatballs are uneven," she said before chuckling. "You saw his meatballs."
I grunt, while my face heats up even more, "Okay, maybe it's a bit lopsided."
"Ah-ha! Can you tell Pietro that? He said I'm lying!"
My face scrunches up. "Why were you guys talking about uneven meatballs?" I'm not sure why I am still calling balls...meatballs. I'm old enough to call it by its proper terminology. "I mean...testicles."
"That's fucking gross, Ann. Call it meatballs," she clears her throat "He was complaining about why my peaches are uneven. I mean, I didn't ask for these nonsymmetrical peaches when I was twelve!"
