Inferno - Chelle Bliss by Chelle Bliss

“Bear decorated it.”

I glance down at her with my mouth hanging open. “Really?”

She nods with the kindest smile. “He loves decorating.”

My brain’s close to short-circuiting with that nugget of information. Bear looks like anything he’d decorate would be covered in oil and made of steel or cement. The chandelier over my head is beautifully delicate, made of brass, with over a dozen small lights.

“I’m ready to go, and I’m starving.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“We’re going to Maria’s.”

“Oh. Where’s that? I’ve never seen it.” But that’s not surprising. I still don’t know the area very well. There’s so much in such a small space that it’s hard to distinguish every local business.

Although this isn’t a big city, it definitely has some similarities to Chicago. I think I could live here a lifetime and still not know everything that’s around me.

Fran walks out the door with her purse tucked under her arm. “It’s not far from here. The best food you’ll ever eat.”

“What’s the cuisine?”

It didn’t take me long to realize that this area of Florida is seriously lacking in great food options. That’s the thing I miss the most from Chicago. The food was the best, and if you had a taste for something, you’d find it somewhere within a few miles’ radius.

“Italian. I hope that’s okay.”

“Okay? It’s the best,” I tell her as I follow her outside, waiting for her to lock the front door. “Italian has always been my favorite.”

“Maria’s serves the best Italian in town.”

“Perfect.” I rush in front of her to open the passenger door to my car, but she shoos me away. I back away with my hands up. “Sorry. I was trying to be nice.”

“Babe, I’m old but not an invalid. I can open my own door. It’s nice of you, but the only person who opens a car door for me is my husband.”

My heart melts a little at that statement. I stare at her over the roof of my car. “He opens the door for you?”

She nods with the brightest smile. “Always. And you don’t dare settle for less. Too many shitheads out here.”

Fran slides into her seat as I get into mine. “Chivalry isn’t dead, baby girl. You’ve just been dating the wrong men.”

That isn’t a lie. She probably doesn’t know how right she is with that statement. Jeff never opened a door for me. He’d hit me with it first. “How long have you and Bear been together?” I ask, making conversation as I start up the car, but then I remember I have no clue where I’m going. I grab my phone, pulling up GPS.

“There’s no need. I know the way.”

I stash my phone back in my purse. “Lead the way.”

“Go back to the main road,” she tells me before I pull out of her driveway. “And we’ve been together as long as I can remember. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to remember a time before him.”

“That’s really sweet.” And it is. I’ve never had grandparents to look up to and watch grow old together. Long-lasting relationships haven’t been a part of my life. They’re something I’ve seen on television shows and figured were made-up.

“Tell me about your life.”

I shrug as I keep my eyes on the road. “Not much to tell, Fran. I’m a foster kid from Chicago. Pretty basic.”

She reaches over, touching my arm. “That’s sad, baby.”

“It is what it is.”

“You have anyone at all? Your foster family or anything?”

I shake my head, ignoring the sadness of my life as much as possible so my eyes don’t fill with tears. “I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen.”

“Not anymore, sweetie. You have me.”

“I have you?” I ask, confused.

“No one should be alone, and I’ve never had a daughter. I’m going to take you under my wing a little. Is that okay?”

“Is it okay? Is it okay?” I repeat, each time raising my voice a little. “Oh my God, Fran. That’s the nicest offer anyone’s ever given me.”

With each passing year, my yearning for a family has only grown bigger.

She pats my arm. “Good. Now, what’s going on with Stone?” She points for me to turn. “Why isn’t he wrapped around your little finger yet?”

“It’s complicated.”

“From what I saw at the Neon Cowboy, there’s nothing complicated about it. I saw two young kids who had the spark and sizzle. A man doesn’t look at a woman the way he looked at you unless he’s falling—and falling hard and fast.”

“Fran,” I say softly, feeling the need to let her know what was really happening. “It wasn’t how it looked.”

“It’s exactly how it looked. I saw two young, beautiful people who were a perfect match. Two young people who were attracted to each other but weren’t honest with themselves.”

“Stone rescued me from a bad situation that night, Fran. I didn’t even know him an hour before that.”

“Time is irrelevant when it comes to soul mates, baby.”

I glance over at her. “We’re not soul mates.”