Resist Me(46)

“James,” Suzy cooed, holding out her arms to him. “I’m so happy you’re with Izzy.”

“We’re not together,” I said.

“Uh huh. Sure, hon.” Mia laughed, drinking in James at such a close proximity. “I’ve heard a lot about you, James.”

He turned to me, winking with a grin on his face. “You have? That’s interesting,” he replied, looking back to Mia. “I hope they’ve all been nice things.”

She nodded as her smile widened. “Yep. Izzy’s told us all about you,” she said as she looked down at his crotch and wiggled her eyebrows.

“Oh,” James said, and laughed.

“For the love of all that is holy, shut the hell up, Mia.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. A sense of doom seeped into my body.

My ma leaned over and whispered not so quietly to Mia, “They were kissing outside.”

“You were not,” Suzy said, smacking me on the shoulder. “I knew you liked him,” she whispered—also not so quietly.

“Would everyone just shut it, please?” I begged, ready to run out of the house like a little girl throwing a temper tantrum.

“What’s all the commotion in here?” Pop asked as he entered the foyer with his eyebrows knitted together. As soon as he saw James, his face lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. “James, my boy,” he said, holding out his hand to him before pulling him close. “How the hell are ya, and my boy Tommy?”

“Fine, Mr. Gallo. I’m just fine, and so is your son.” James shook his hand, gripping his forearm.

I glared at my girls as they stood there with dopy-ass grins on their faces, staring at James. “Traitors,” I mouthed, snarling my lips.

Suzy stuck out her tongue while Mia shrugged and laughed. My ma, on the other hand, was watching James and my pop very closely.

“Come on and sit with the men. Dinner will be ready soon,” Pop offered, motioning toward the family room with his head.

“Hello?” I whined, wondering where my greeting was.

“Sorry, baby girl,” he said, stopping and walking in my direction. “I got caught up in the moment.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my cheek.

“Seems to be a problem in this house,” I groaned.

“Let’s go, son. They’ll call us when it’s time to eat,” Pop said to James.

Son? Really? What the fuck just happened?

James gave me a wink before he disappeared with my pop to lounge in front of the television and bullshit. Ma smiled at me and quickly excused herself to check on dinner.

I turned my attention to Mia and Suzy. “What the fuck just happened?” I asked.

They laughed and shrugged. They were no fucking help.

“Just nice to have someone new here for a change,” Suzy responded.

“A fucking homeless guy wouldn’t get that kind of reception,” I bit out.

“Maybe if he was as sexy and locking lips with you he would.” Mia laughed.

“Fucking lying bitches,” I muttered, walking away from them.

I did love those girls. They were lying through their teeth, but they knew what had gone down between James and me. They were looking for some juicy gossip and they’d get it, but not today.

“Need help, Ma?” I asked as I walked in the kitchen to find my mother straining the pasta.

“You talk and I’ll cook,” she replied, keeping her back to me.

“I’d rather cook.” I leaned against the counter and watched her.

She looked at me with a smile on her face as she tossed the pasta, washing away the last bits of water. “I’m sure you would, but I want to know how James just showed up this weekend.”

“The boys invited him to dinner, Ma. I didn’t have anything to do with it. I’m sorry.” I crossed my arms, watching her.

“Baby girl, I know that. I mean how did he end up locking lips with you at my front door?” She laughed, knowing that I hated talking about this shit.

“I saw him last weekend and he dropped in to check on me.”

“Isabella, I wasn’t born yesterday.” She snickered as she poured the pounds of perfectly cooked pasta in the serving bowl.

She always had her ears to the ground. She knew everything that went on in this family.

“It’s a long story, Ma.”

“Do you like him?” She stopped, turning to face me with a grin.

“He’s okay,” I lied, feeling my cheeks warm.

“Just okay? Looks like he’s more than okay, dear.” She scooped sauce over the pasta, tossing it to keep it moist.

“Eh. He’s not my type.” I shrugged, hoping she’d drop it.

But in true Mama Gallo style, she replied, “You doth protest too much.”