“I think you should see a doctor,” Rose told him one day as they got into a cab.

“What for? I've never felt better in my life.”

“If you're okay, then why are we taking a taxi?” she asked. “You used to walk all over the city.”

“There were years when I couldn't afford taxis. Now I can. If you keep on nagging me, I'll hire a limousine to drive me everywhere.” He smiled his wicked little-boy grin, but his eyes were weary.

“Bobby, I'm serious,” she said, fear making her voice sharper than she intended.

“So am I.” His voice was just as sharp, and there was a warning in it. “Don't hover, Rose. I won't put up with that.”

He meant it. In spite of everything she'd done, she could still drive him away if she pushed—even if what she was pushing for was for his own good.

“Well, if you're going to have a private car, at the very least I expect a Rolls.” She gave him a quick kiss on the lips to show him that the sharp-voiced harpy was gone and his understanding, undemanding Rose was back. But Bobby didn't respond. He sat silently in the backseat of the cab for such a long time that she was starting to get scared. Finally, he said, “Tomorrow night, I'd like it if you'd come to my place for dinner.”

The way he was looking at her, she knew she'd been right: going to his apartment was a big deal. A very big deal.

“To see your etchings?” she said as lightly she could, although her heart had skipped a couple of beats and her breath was suddenly coming too fast.

“Maybe,” Bobby said. But he wasn't smiling; he was looking at her as if he already knew what she'd be like when the room was dark and they were alone and hands and fingers were pulling at buttons and zippers.

“What time?” she managed to ask. And that was when she knew that whatever he wanted, she would do it—even without a ring on her finger. Because she wanted it too, no matter how well Nonna had trained her.

BOBBY DIDN'T GET out of the taxi to walk her into the lobby of her apartment building, and he didn't kiss her good night.

“Tomorrow night,” she said softly as she closed the cab door.

“Tomorrow night,” he said, and nodded.

But the next night her world fell apart.

ROSE SHOWED UP at Bobby's apartment dressed demurely in a skirt and blouse—on this night it would be overkill to go for a sexy look. That battle had already been fought and won. And she came emptyhanded—there was no food and fancy wine now. She didn't want to do anything to remind her of the last time she'd been desperate in his hallway, with her offering from ‘21.’