The house smelled like Pine-Sol when Carmine arrived home that afternoon, the aroma so heavy it stung his eyes. He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, seeing Haven scrubbing the marble floor. She hummed, oblivious to his presence, and he listened as he tried to place the song.
She stood and turned around, the humming cut off by a yelp. “You’re home!”
He chuckled as she dropped the sponge. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, hummingbird.”
“You didn’t. I was only . . .” She trailed off as she eyed him peculiarly. “Hummingbird?”
“Yeah, hummingbird. Colibri. You kinda remind me of one.”
He felt like an idiot as those words hung between them.
She looked bewildered. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “They’re these little colorful birds that flutter around and hum. And, you know, you’re kinda the same way.”
Her cheeks flushed. “You heard me?”
“I’ve heard you a few times. It’s, uh . . .” He didn’t know what to say. “What song is it?”
“It’s something my mama used to sing.”
She fidgeted, averting her eyes. Her sweatpants and tank top were splattered with soapy water, her hair all over the place.
“You should get dressed,” he suggested. “We have somewhere to go, and I’m sure you’d rather put on something else.”
She eyed him skeptically. “Okay.”
She lingered for a moment before heading upstairs. He rolled his tense shoulders as he silently berated himself, wishing he’d loosen up around her. His anxiety fueled hers, and the last thing he wanted was for her to avoid him again.
It only took Haven a few minutes to return, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He opened the front door, and Haven hesitated in the doorway before stepping on the porch. After engaging the alarm and locking up, he helped her into his car. She thanked him softly when he climbed into the driver’s side, her eyes darting around as they drove. “Where are we going?”
Carmine opened the center console, looking for his list, before motioning toward the glove compartment. “Check in there for a piece of paper.”
She did what he said, shifting things around, and blushed when she pulled out a small black box. Carmine groaned, realizing she’d found the condoms he kept in the car.
“Christ, I forgot they were in there.” He snatched them from her hand and rolled down the window in a panic, tossing them out along the side of the road. He ignored her incredulous look, not wanting to have to explain, and waved her back to the glove compartment.
Haven searched again, grabbing a piece of notebook paper. “Is this it?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Read it.”
Wide-eyed, she stammered over some of the words. “Uh, chips . . . pret—uh, pretzels . . . soda . . . Are we going to a store?”
“Yes. That’s what we need for the party. While we’re there, we’ll stock up the house. You know, kill two birds with one stone.”
When they made it to the store, Haven’s footsteps faltered as the doors opened on their own. She surveyed them, almost as if she was afraid to go through. Carmine waited for her to grab a cart, but she just stood there.
“Have you been grocery shopping much?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’ve never been inside a store.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
This would be more complicated than he thought. “I can’t say I’ve ever done this either. I’m not usually trusted, so I guess we’ll figure this shit out together.”
Haven tried to hand him the paper, but he instead handed her a pen. “You do the list. Practice makes perfect, right?”
Before she could argue, he grabbed a cart and led her to the produce section. “I have another confession. I can’t say I’ve ever cooked either, so I have no idea what half this shit is.” He picked up a green stalk and eyed it skeptically. “What the fuck is this?”
She smiled. “Those are Brussels sprouts.”
“Definitely not buying them,” he said, throwing the stalk down on the display.
It was quiet so early in the afternoon, only a few shoppers in the store other than them. Carmine was grateful for the privacy. Haven was clearly out of her element, clutching the list tightly as her eyes monitored everything. “What should we get?”
“Whatever you wanna cook,” he said. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Dom will eat anything. Hell, he’d eat Brussels sprouts. And my father isn’t hard to please.”
“And you?”
He shrugged.
“Finicky,” she said to herself.
He blinked a few times. “What did you call me?”
She looked guilty as she repeated the word. “Finicky.”
“My father taught you that, didn’t he?” he asked. “He’s been calling me that for years.”
“Dr. DeMarco did mention it, but I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“I know,” he said. “But whatever, let’s shop. We look like idiots just standing here, like we’ve never done this shit before.”
“We haven’t,” she reminded him.
“I know that, and you know that, but the rest of these fuckers don’t need to know it.”
They made their way through the aisles. Carmine did most of the work, packing the cart full of junk food while Haven picked up the essentials he bypassed. He watched her those moments, as she grabbed milk and eggs and bread, her shoulders relaxed and movements confident.
She handed the list to him once everything had been crossed off, and they headed to the register. He put their stuff on the conveyer belt and reached toward the display of candy. Haven flinched as his arm shot out so he slowed his movements as he threw a chocolate Toblerone bar on the conveyor belt.
After paying, Carmine stuffed the trunk with all of the bags while Haven stood in the vacant parking lot beside the car. He wasn’t paying her any attention as he returned the cart to the store, and his stomach sank when he turned around. Haven wasn’t standing there anymore.
Panic erupted inside of him as he scanned the parking lot, searching for some sign of her. His father was going to kill him. All it took was ten seconds—ten measly fucking seconds of his guard being down—and she’d slipped away, vanishing.
He hastily ran to the car, movement inside of it nearly buckling his knees. Haven sat in the passenger seat, seatbelt clipped in place and hands folded in her lap. He had to take a moment to collect himself, to savor the feeling of relief, before climbing in beside her with his candy bar.
He opened the Toblerone and pulled off a triangle for her, watching with confusion as she gawked at his hand. “Don’t you like chocolate?”
“I’ve never had it.”
He thrust it at her. “Christ, girl, take this shit, then.”
She laughed at his enthusiasm and took it, biting off a small corner of the chocolate. Her expression brightened, her words escaping as a moan. “Wow, that’s sweet.”
Pulling off a few triangles for himself, Carmine handed the rest of the Toblerone to her. “I know. Fucking amazing.”
It was drizzling when they arrived at the house, so Carmine parked as close to the porch as possible. “Unlock the door, okay?” She started to interject, but he cut her off. “The code’s 62373. Punch it into the keypad and hit the big-ass button. Can you remember that?”
“62373,” she repeated.
She ran to the door, pressing the numbers as the rain came down harder. Once she had the door open, he climbed out and grabbed some bags. Haven tried to head back outside when he reached the foyer, but he threw his hand out to stop her. Her arms flew up protectively in front of her, so he quickly withdrew his hand. “Shit, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just don’t want you to get wet.”
She gave him a look that seemed to be a mixture of confusion and amusement before she took the groceries into the kitchen. He unloaded the car and tried to help, tossing things where he figured they went, but he only made the job harder by getting in her way.
Dominic brought pizzas home for dinner, and Carmine grabbed a box of pepperoni before plopping down on the couch. Glancing at Haven, he patted the cushion beside him. Her eyes darted toward the stairs, and he cocked an eyebrow at her as if to say, Don’t fucking dare. He would have dragged her back. There was no reason for her to not eat with them.
Carmine awoke the next afternoon to a house in total chaos. Tess and Dia stood on chairs in the family room, tacking streamers around the window, while Haven sorted through a box of fake flowers. Dominic ran from one room to another, following orders barked at him from Tess.
Sneaking into the room, Carmine grabbed Tess’s chair and vehemently shook it, startling her. Yelling, Tess leaped off the chair, and he covered his head as she punched him in the back. “You’re such a jerk, Carmine!”
“Yeah, well, you hit like a little girl.” The words barely left his mouth when her fist shot out, punching him right in the chest. He winced. “Damn!”
Tess smirked. “Who’s the little girl now?”
“Apparently me,” he said, rubbing his chest as he eyed his brother, arranging flowers he’d gotten from Haven. “I’m starting to feel like one, anyway, in a room full of bitches.”
“What did you call me?” Haven’s voice had an edge he’d never heard from her before.
His brow furrowed until it dawned on him what he’d said. “Ah, shit . . .” Bitch. “Nothing.”
She turned back to the flowers without a word, handing more of them to Dominic, and Carmine watched her before approaching. Leaning close, his lips beside her ear, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
She said nothing. Guilt tugged at his chest. He couldn’t tell if she believed him.
After the house was decorated, Carmine put on his pirate costume, sliding on the black pants and boots before buttoning up the white ruffled shirt and tying the red bandanna around his head. Grabbing the big black hat, he headed down to see Dominic in the foyer, wielding a sword.
“Which dumbass gave him a weapon?” Carmine called out, barely evading the plastic blade as his brother swung it at him. “You people should know better by now.”
“No one gave it to him,” Tess said, stepping out of the family room in her devil costume. “He found it on his own.”
Shaking his head, Carmine headed toward the office under the stairs, punching in the code to unlock the door. The room looked like a normal office, with a wooden mahogany desk and a black leather chair. A Persian rug covered the floor, and Carmine folded the corner, exposing the hidden door. He opened it and headed down the flimsy stairs into the basement, flicking on the light. A subtle glow came over the room, revealing dozens of wooden crates.
Using the front of his shirt to cover his hand, he pulled the top off the one closest to the stairs and grabbed a few bottles of liquor. He didn’t go any farther, having no desire to venture to the back.
