Page 58 of Mine Again
“Well, he can gift his smug ass right off this island,” she mutters, tightening her grip on my arm. “Ideally into a volcano. Isn’t Mount Etna due for an eruption?”
I laugh, the tension in my chest easing a little. She gives me a sideways glance, her mouth twitching. “You’d help push him in, wouldn’t you?”
“With pleasure.”
That gets a real smile out of her. “Sisters who bury bodies together…”
“Stay out of prison together,” I finish, looping my arm through hers. “Come on, let’s find Mari before someone else tries to claim you like a prize goat at auction.”
“Or a broodmare,” Mia adds with a shudder. “Ugh, I need a shower after that conversation.”
Chapter Twenty
Isabella
Ienter the café and spot Andrea before he sees me. He’s at the window table he reserved for us yesterday, typing on his phone.
He’s dressed in jeans and a navy sweater. No designer labels or gold watch here. His hair is a little messy in a casual, I-didn’t-try-too-hard way, and his sneakers look like they’ve seen a few dog walks.
Okay…
Not like the men in my world, who love to flaunt their ill-gotten wealth.
He looks up, sees me approaching, and smiles. Friendly. Open.
I slow near the table. How on earth do I greet him?
Handshake? Too formal.
Cheek kiss? Too intimate.
Wave? Too weird.
Nothing? Rude.
Oh God, what do normal people do on a first date?
He stands when he sees me approach, a smile already forming like he’s genuinely glad I came.
“You look like your picture,” he says, offering a small, warm smile. “Only… real.”
I smile back, a little uncertain.
“You too. But… taller.”
We hover for a beat. That awkward what-do-we-do-now moment hits hard. I go for a handshake just as he leans in for a cheek kiss.
We collide.
My hand bumps his chest. His cheek grazes the side of my head, and I mutter something that might besorryorplease kill me now.
He pulls back, laughing softly. “Okay. That was a strong start.”
I laugh too, trying to play it off. “Just making sure we cover all greeting styles in one go.”
He gestures to the seat he just got up from. “Preheated,” he quips, sliding into the chair across from me.
That’s when it gives out.
