“Just give him a few more days, baby,” Rory pipes up, flashing her husband her sweetest smile. “He’s moping.” “Rafe doesn’t mope,” Angelo grunts. “He does now that he’s a heartbroken little fool.” Angelo’s eyes slide to mine, narrowing in disgust. I don’t care if he thinks I’m pathetic. I just know if he tries to pull me off this sofa I’ll put him in a headlock, stomach wound or not. “Fine,” he snaps, rising to his full height. “I’ll meet Tor in Cove alone. I’ll be sure to bring back a box of tampons and some ice cream.” He storms to the foyer. “Make it chocolate chip,” Rory calls after him.
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