Page 107 of It's Always Sonny

I can’t help laughing. I don’t know if anyone else heard him, but from the titters of his family, I’m guessing more than a few of them are winking and nudging about the same thing.

“Come on, Peter Parker,” Sienna says with a laugh. “Kiss the boy!”

“Oh, man, best nickname ever. Go, Spidey!” Chris says.

Sienna hits his chest with the back of her hand. “Peter Parker is the nickname.”

“What? No way. It’s gotta be Spidey.”

Sonny and I are still looking into each other’s eyes. But then, because the Spiderman kiss is scorching hot, and I’m all hopped up on adrenaline and self-worth, my eyes jump to his mouth.

I can’t kiss him. Not here in front of his family. Not when there’s still so much left to discuss. Kissing him would be a sign that we are us. It shouldn’t be a spur of the moment funny-ha-ha kind of thing. It should be a commitment. A kiss would say I’m on board and I’ll be here until this train reaches the end of the line.

That’s it, I’m kissing him.

I swing backward slightly so that I can swing forward, and when I do, Sonny puts his hands to the side of my face. He draws in close, and my heart skips excitedly. Before his lips can touch mine, though, he moves his head an inch to the side, so his lips graze my cheek all the way to my ear.

Holy hotness, Batman. Spiderman. Whomever.

“Tonight. Hot tub. We are figuring this out. And then I’m going to kiss you so good and so hard, the Spiderman kiss will look like child’s play.”

Before I can go up in flames, Sonny puts one arm around my back and stretches one up my leg and around my hamstring, and I release from the bar. He pulls me close as easily as I pulled Sweetness, and he cradles me just as carefully.

If a lot more possessively.

A lot.

And I love it.

I’m panting—we’re both panting—and it has nothing to do with exertion. Not a single freaking thing.

It is tension. Excitement. Anticipation.

Tonight cannot come soon enough.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sonny

PJ and I are inseparable all day, and it’s the best day I’ve had in seven years.

We help Jane and her husband all morning with everything they’ll allow us to do. We get the animals settled in temporary pens in the farm’s famous white barn and then return to the animal barn to clean up whatever we can. We all take quads, UTVs, and farm trucks around the farm to clean what we can and report back any damage we can’t fix. We have snowball fights and make snow angels and snowmen.

By mid-afternoon, Jane insists that we’ve saved them days of work and she sends us back to the reunion grounds.

We’re famished. The power has been restored, and we blast the patio heaters in the pavilion, where we all gather.

PJ makes some calls and finds out the kitchen staff and chef are dealing with frozen pipes and damage at their own homes, so they aren’t able to come. She looks like she’s bracing herself when she tells my family.

“I’m really sorry, but we don’t have our chef. We have all the supplies for dinner, and the food was kept safe thanks to the cold. I can reach out to the diner in town, but I’m sorry. I wanted today to be perfect—”

“Perfect is overrated,” my dad says in his strong, reassuring voice. His cheeks and nose are flushed after an entire day working in the cold, but he looks exhilarated. “The storm didn’t ruin anything. In fact, I’d say that today was my favorite day yet.”

“Bianca,” Great Aunt Mary says to Nonna, “what is it you always said about you and Antonio? Something about how your imperfections made you perfect for each other?” Aunt Mary asks.

“If she said that,” my mom says, “she stole it from Good Will Hunting.”

This earns a laugh. Nonna waves her hand dismissively. “I never said that.”

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