Page 6 of Scorned Obsession

Renz sputtered another expletive. “Fucking move! This is not lover’s lane.” As if to emphasize the point, he blasted his horn. “The light’s green, motherfucker.”

“Do you always curse this much when you make deliveries?” We De Luccis cursed a lot, including me, but this seemed over the top for Renz.

He flashed me a grin. “Only time I let loose when I’m not around Sam.”

I laughed. “Oh, I see.” My brother’s daughter, Samantha, was almost six years old. “Might I remind you I was around Sam’s age when Mom and Dad got summoned to school because I called my classmate an asshole?”

He emitted a deep-chested chuckle. “Yeah, Liz and I are trying to hold off getting those summons for a few more years.”

“Losing battle, brother,” I quipped. “But…you seem on edge.”

Renz ducked his head to check both sides of the intersection before we crossed into Brooklyn. “I detest last-minute orders, but it was a favor for a colleague. Her baker is sick and they need dessert and bread.”

“I heard Liz is cooking Irish stew tonight.”

“Yeah, Mom’s recipe too,” Renz muttered.

My mouth watered. “Now my stomach’s grumbling.” I felt myself getting impatient. “Well, hurry up, then.”

Renz snorted, and I didn’t complain when he cut in and out of vehicles that were taking their time deciding where to go.

The delivery van finally made a turn into a row of upscale Brooklyn brownstones and slowed to a crawl. “This is the street.”

“What number is it?” I asked.

“511.”

“This is 480. It should be close,” I said. “Look, a car just pulled out.”

“I see it.”

“You didn’t need me after all,” I told him as he swerved to claim the spot.

“I appreciate the company of my baby sister,” he replied.

“Aw. You missed me.”

He switched the car off and turned in his seat to face me. “Everyone missed you. Sam kept asking when her aunt Bianca was coming for a visit. I hated that Sandro drove you away?—”

“He didn’t,” I protested. “I needed a change of scenery.”

“All right. Let’s talk later. You’re staying at my place, right?”

“Try to stop me. I’m gonna get my fill of Liz’s stew until you can’t roll me out of your apartment.”

He barked a laugh and got out of the vehicle.

I rolled down my window and called, “Sure you don’t need help?”

“I got this,” he hollered back.

Fine. I better check out my new phone. It had a new number that I was going to be more stingy with. I didn’t realize how much my identity was tied to a phone number. Maybe because I’d had the same number since I was old enough to have a phone. I set up my apps, promising myself not to download everything cool and clutter this new device. New phone, new me. It was then I looked up.

A couple came into my line of vision.

Sandro?

My gut clenched. Was my mind trying to stamp his image on every man with his build? He was in deep conversation with a dark-haired woman. His date?

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