“She made you call her Nonni?” I laughed, leaning back in my chair and unbuttoning the top button on my jeans. I had no shame. I’d eaten an obscene amount.
“You know what Nonni means?” he asked, surprised.
“I had an Italian great-grandmother. She insisted everyone call her Nonni.” I laughed again when his eyes went to my hands massaging my stomach.
“You gonna be okay there?” He raised his eyebrows as he got up to clear.
“Yep, just need to breathe a little.” I groaned, pulling myself up from the table.
“No, no, you don’t have to help,” he said, rushing to my side and grabbing my plate.
“Oh, no, I wasn’t. I was gonna drop this off and pass out on that couch right there,” I said, nodding toward the living room.
“You go relax. Anyone who just had that many balls in their mouth deserves a rest,” he teased, and I flicked his ear.
“I said no more ball jokes! You’ve had your fun, now let me go die in peace.” I shuffled into the living room. I really had made quite a little piggy
of myself, but it was seriously good. I reclined and popped open another button on my jeans, relaxing into the cushions and replaying some of the finer points of the evening.
Watching Simon cook was, in a word, hot. He was really at home in a kitchen, his earlier fussing about with the pie aside. Even his salad—
simple greens dressed lightly with lemon and olive oil, salt, pepper, and good Parmesan—was easy and perfect.
“Pink Himalayan salt, thank you very much,” he’d said proudly, producing a bag from his pantry. He’d brought it back from one of his many trips and had me taste a little before sprinkling it on the salad. Could have been pretentious, but it fit Simon. The many facets of this guy were astounding. My earliest assumptions about him were proving to be completely wrong. As assumptions tend to be…
I could hear him tending to the dishes, and as much as I probably should have gone to help him, I simply couldn’t remove myself from the couch.
I snuggled on my side and looked around his living room again, my eyes drawn back to the tiny bottles of sand from all over the world. I marveled at how traveled he was, and how he seemed to enjoy it still. I gazed at the pictures of the woman in Bora Bora—her dark, beautiful skin and the smooth planes of her body—and thought about how different the three of the women in his harem were. Oops, make that two now that Katie/Spanx was with her new man.
Suddenly I could smell the apple pie and heard the oven door clank shut. I’d put it in his oven as soon as we came over so it would be ready after dinner.
“Don’t you dare try to serve me pie now. I am stuffed, I tell you, stuffed!” I yelled.
“Quiet, it’s just cooling,” he scolded, coming around the corner from the kitchen. “You’re gonna have to scooch over, sister. It’s movie time,” he instructed, pushing me with his big toe as I struggled to sit up straight.
“What is it that we’re watching?”
“The Exorcist,” he whispered, turning off the light on the end table and leaving the room quite dark.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I screeched, leaning over him to turn it back on.
“Don’t be a wuss. You’re watching it,” he hissed, turning it back off.
“I’m not a wuss, but there is stupid and not stupid, and stupid is watching a movie like The Exorcist with the lights off! That’s just asking for trouble!” I hissed back, turning it back on.
It was starting to look like a disco in here…
“Okay, I’ll make a deal with you. Lights off, but—” he shushed me with is finger as he saw me begin to interrupt “—if you get too scared, lights go back on. Deal?”
I was still leaning across him on my way to turn the light back on again when I noticed how close I was to his face. And how I was angled across him like a girl waiting to get a spanking. And I knew he was capable of delivering one…
“Fine,” I huffed as the opening credits came on. I returned to a normal, seated position.
He smiled triumphantly and gave me a thumbs up.
“If you show me that thumb one more time I’ll bite it off,” I growled, pulling an afghan off the back of the couch and curling it protectively around me. One minute into the movie, and I was already spooked.
I was tense from that moment on, and any idea I might have had about girls being ridiculous around guys when they watched scary movies went by the wayside when Regan peed herself at the dinner party.
By the time the priest came for a little visit, I was practically sitting on Simon’s lap, my right hand had a death grip on his thigh, and I was viewing the movie through the holes in the afghan, which I had draped entirely over my head.
“I actually, literally, hate you for making me watch this movie,” I whispered in his ear, which was right in my face as I refused to leave any space between us. I’d even accompanied him to the bathroom earlier when we took a break. He insisted I stay out in the hallway, but I stood just outside the door, eyes glancing around furtively, still with the afghan over my head.
“Do you want me to stop? I don’t want you to have nightmares,” he whispered back, his eyes on the screen.
“Just no banging on the walls for a few nights, please. I won’t be able to take it,” I said, looking at him through one of my eyeholes.
“Have you heard any banging lately?” he asked, rolling his eyes as he did every time he looked at me with the ridiculous afghan on my head.
“No, I haven’t actually. Why is that?” I asked.
He took a breath. “Well, I—” he started, and then the most maniacal scary noises started coming from the TV, and we both jumped.
“Okay, maybe this movie is a little scary. You wanna sit closer?” he asked, pressing pause on the remote.
“I thought you’d never ask,” I cried, launching myself fully into his lap and settling between his thighs. “Do you want some afghan?” I offered, and he laughed.
“No, I can take it like a man. You stay under there, though,” he teased.
I narrowed my eyes at him through the eyeholes and poked one finger through the weave. “Guess which finger this is,” I said, waving it at him.
“Shhh, movie,” he answered, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back against his chest.
He was warm and strong and powerful, but absolutely no match for terror that was The Exorcist. What had we been talking about? Now I couldn’t think about any walls banging except the one Regan was currently banging the shit out of and spraying down with pea soup. We watched the rest of that damn movie wound around each other like pretzels, and he finally succumbed to the false security that an afghan eyehole can provide.
Click. Click. Click.
What the hell was that?
Click. Click. Click.
Oh no.
I lay paralyzed in my bed, every light in my entire apartment blazing.
Click. Click. Click.
I pulled the covers up higher, covering my face up to my eyes, which kept a constant vigil around the bedroom. Brain knew we were safe and secure, but also kept replaying scenes from that terrible, terrible movie, making it impossible to shut off for the night and go to sleep. Nerves had everything on lockdown, blazing a trail of fiery adrenaline throughout my body. I hated Simon with every fiber of my being in that moment. I also wished he was here.
Click. Click. Click.
What was that?
Click. Click.
Nothing.
Then Clive leaped on the bed, and I screamed bloody murder. Clive puffed out his tail and hissed at me, wondering why the hell Mommy was screaming at him, I’m sure. The click-click-click was his goddamned kitty hangnail.
My phone vibrated an instant later, shaking the entire nightstand and eliciting another scream from me. It was Simon.