His Mafia Queen

Dry and Sparkling

"I'm bored, pupper," I say aloud. Reese rolls onto his back in response, seeking a belly rub. "You just want to stay in bed and cuddle, don't you, buddy?"

I scratch his soft, tawny belly while trying to decide what to do. It's not that I want to go out; I definitely don't feel like putting on makeup, doing my hair, or getting dressed up. No, what I want is to hang out and talk with someone while in my comfy loungey jumpsuit. Have a glass of wine and laugh. Watch reality TV with a friend.

Like I used to with Lorna. Sometimes I miss my best friend with a visceral, raw hunger. AS much as I adore being with Gabriel, sometimes I crave female friendship. It's something that I've lacked since I arrived in Florida.

Sighing, I reach for my phone. I could call Brynn, but I wouldn't feel comfortable inviting her over to Gabriel's. Not because he wouldn't want her here — I'm sure he'd grant me anything I wanted at this point, if it meant me staying home — but because Brynn might feel uncomfortable in this house.

I tap a message to Gabriel. Hi Babe. When are you coming home? I'm bored.

Fifteen seconds later, he responds. Not for a while. I'm sorry you're bored, I'll make it up to you when I get home.

"Wonder what that means," I grumble. Probably not sex, since he fretted about the other night when we fooled around. He's worried that any activity in or around my vagina could trigger another infection. I tried to tell him that my vagina is fine, but he says we need to wait to have sex.

Grr.

I doomscroll for a while on my phone, checking Reddit and Twitter and Instagram, then turning to the New York Times. After five minutes, I'm depressed from reading the news, and I tap back to my messages. I can't interrupt Gabriel again.

My gaze goes to a message from Cath, and I think about how happy she was to see me at her party. She really is a fun person, although I'm still not entirely sure about her. Still, I'm bored, and if there's one thing I hate, it's that.

I tap out a quick message before I can second-guess myself.

Hey there! What are you doing tonight? Want to come over and drink wine and watch bad TV?

I chew on my cheek while I wait for a response. It comes surprisingly quickly.

I'd love to! Be there in an hour or less. What kind of wine?

I grin and reply. Something dry and sparkling

On it, she texts back.

# # #

An hour and a half later we're drinking champagne and eating French fries — she'd brought an entire bag from a fast-food place — in the TV room downstairs. Reese is with us, snuggled in his plush dog bed in the corner. We're talking about normal stuff like the TV show, Gabriel's love of minimalist furniture, and who bought what painting at the party the other night.

"You know the painting of the nude back, looking over the water?" Catherine's stack of silver bangles jangle as she lifts her champagne to her mouth. Tonight she's wearing a casual black sleeveless jumpsuit and what looks like velvet sneakers. Like if Dracula's bride wore athleisure clothing.

I nod. The painting of my boyfriend. Yes, I remember that, and the dozen others. Ugh, maybe I shouldn't have been so eager for her company. I'd hoped we wouldn't talk about the paintings.

"Well, that sold to a couple for fifty grand." Catherine waggles her eyebrows.

"Wow. Really? That's cool." I'm not sure how I feel about Gabriel's image hanging in some strange couple's living room. Or worse, bedroom. I wonder how Gabriel feels about it. Hmm. I'll have to ask.

I nibble on a fry. "Did you ever ask Gabriel about painting him? Selling his paintings? He seems so private, I'm surprised he is okay with that."

She grins widely. "I agreed to only sell the ones where you can't see his face. We talked about this when he gave me the startup money for the gallery."

"I see." It's kind of shocking how I'm able to keep a noncommittal tone.

"I'm so glad you asked me to come over," Catherine says, taking a sip from her crystal flute. The fries are sitting between us on a silver platter that I'd found in the kitchen. "Honestly, I wasn't sure you'd want to talk to me again after the party."

"Why?" I grin. Tonight I'm feeling snarky. "Because my boyfriend's face and body are all over your gallery?"

I haven't forgotten that fact, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to know more about her feelings for Gabriel.

Catherine giggles and tips her head back. "Oh, that. Yeah, it's a little weird. Some girlfriends might be upset about that."

"It's weird. I have mixed feelings. Part of me really likes you, a lot. You're interesting and fun and different from any other person I've met. Obviously I like you, because you're here and we're drinking champagne. I wouldn't have asked you here if I hated you."

"I love champagne, and bad reality TV," she says. "But what's the other part of you saying?"

"That you'd be happy if Gabriel and I broke up, so you could have him to yourself."

Her mouth opens, as if she's shocked by my statement.

I grin. "Kidding. Sort of."

She finally smiles and nods. "I get it. Really, I do. I'd be skeptical if my new boyfriend's mysterious friend from the past showed up with paintings of him as a college student. It's weird."

Finally, we're talking about this. Gabriel has been the proverbial elephant in the room, ever since I discovered that they had been childhood friends. "It is weird. But I'm trying to get used to it."

"I'm not interested in Gabriel as a boyfriend, Riley. We've been friends for a long time and have a mutual respect for each other. That's about it. I loved painting him over the years, because, well, look at him. When he was younger, he was even more interesting looking."

I open my mouth to say something, then close it.

"What?" she says. "Don't be afraid of hurting my feelings. Say what you're thinking. I won't be offended. Promise."

Usually when people say that they don't mean it, so I test her. "The paintings startled me. There were so many of them. It seems a little..."

"Obsessive? Creepy? Too much?"

"Yeah, all those."

She takes another sip of her champagne and sets down her glass. "I guess. It's difficult to explain, though. I was joking when I said he was my muse. In reality, I enjoyed painting him. He's a beautiful man, physically. I've painted others, not only him, by the way. I felt like the paintings of him were the best canvases to open the gallery with. I'll show more in the coming months."

"He definitely is a beautiful man." Maybe it's the champagne, or the honest conversation, but I'm not feeling jealous or angry. I'm simply curious to know more about Catherine. Her life has been so different from mine.

"I don't desire to be with him, though. I couldn't have a relationship with a man in his business. It's simply too close to my childhood. I don't know what I'm looking for in a boyfriend, but I know what I'm not looking for: a mafioso."

I nod, wondering whether I can trust her. Part of me wants to, because I genuinely like Catherine. She's smart, a little older, worldly, and I don't have to be apologetic about my association with Gabriel. She's also the only woman in his orbit that I can stand to be around for more than ten minutes — all of the other women we've met at parties seem stuffy, boring, and only interested in charity events and shopping.

She looks thoughtful for a moment before smiling. She squeezes my knee. "Besides, you two have something special between you that I can only admire from afar. It's nothing like what I'm used to seeing with him. He's a totally different person now that he's with you."