His Mafia Queen

Screams in the Night

Riley

"Really?" I cock an eyebrow. "I'm not so sure if he's different with me. That hurts to say, because no one wants to be average, but I'm pretty average."

Catherine stares at me, her face as impenetrable as stone. Then she breaks out into a grin. "How can you say that? I'm certain about how he feels."

Probably I shouldn't ask more questions. Shouldn't make it seem like I'm eager for an explanation. Shouldn't want more.

But I do.

"What do you mean? Explain." I top off her champagne glass.

"Well, for starters," she takes a big sip, "The way he was worried about you when you were in the hospital. He called me the night you were admitted."

"He did?" This is news to me.

"Yep. He called me first thing the morning after you were admitted."

I frown. "Where was I?"

"He said you were sleeping. He sounded so concerned, Riley. His voice was shaky. It was like he was going out of his mind. Said he hated to leave you for a meeting, and wouldn't have, but the whole restaurant shooting had happened."

"Hm." I'm still not convinced. "I'm very different from Gabriel. We live different lifestyles, he came from a rich background and I didn't..."

"I think the bigger question is, why are you so insecure? Why do you have a difficult time believing Gabriel would care for you immensely? How long have you been dating?"

"Several months," I hedge.

"Do you think you have a future with him?"

Being asked this question throws me off. I shrug. "Hopefully. But I think he'll get bored of me."

"Trust me, if Gabriel was bored, you'd have known about it in, oh, the first week or two. Don't let your insecurity get in the way of a good thing."

"I'm not insecure," I immediately shot back.

This earns me a head tilt and a smirk. "No? Then why do we keep dancing around this subject every time we talk?"

My mouth hangs open until I finally huff out a laugh. Catherine giggles. "You have nothing to be insecure about."

"Nothing like being blunt, Catherine," I jokingly grumble.

"Look, I'm happy to talk about Gabriel any time. Not just because he was my painting muse or because we've known each other for years. He's my friend. And I hope you're my friend. But I don't want to hear you tear yourself down, okay? It's not fair to you. I don't let my friends treat themselves like trash."

I growl hmmmm and fall silent. We lapse into watching some reality TV, joking and commenting on the obvious fakeness of the program. Cath is quite funny and her humor is sharp, biting even. I admire that about her.

She's lying on one side of the giant console sofa, and I'm on the other. Feeling cool and a bit sleepy, I get up to grab blankets out of a cabinet.

"You want one?" I ask Cath. "It's kind of chilly in here, but Gabriel's thermostat is some app thing so I can't control it."

"Sure do," she says.

I hand her one of two pink fuzzy blankets, then return to my place on the sofa.

She mumbles something about being tired as she wraps herself in the blanket like a burrito. Despite my earlier misgivings, it feels good to be with a friend, doing normal stuff like this.