Husband

Remo's eyebrow arched ever so slightly, his lips parting as if he was about to retort. Yet, a moment later, he seemed to reconsider, and his lips closed into a thoughtful line.

"You're perceptive," he conceded, his voice betraying a trace of surprise. He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms casually, as if settling into the conversation with a newfound interest.

Abby tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Hmm—-It's a quality that comes in handy, especially when trying to understand people," she mused, her eyes holding a warmth that seemed to draw him in, like a candle in the midst of winter.

Remo's guarded demeanor seemed to soften, just a touch, under the gentle glow of her presence. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, and studied her for a moment. "And what do you understand about me, Miss Falcone?" he inquired, his voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity.

Abby's smile deepened as she regarded him, her eyes shining with an unspoken challenge. "I understand that there's more to you than meets the eye, Mr.Quinn. A layer— of mischief, perhaps— a touch of frost, but beneath it all, a story— waiting to be uncovered."

Remo's expression remained composed, but a flicker of intrigue danced in his eyes. Abby's words seemed to resonate with him, striking a chord he hadn't expected. He leaned back slightly, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his own coffee cup.

"A story, huh?" he mused, his tone thoughtful. "And what makes you think there's a story worth uncovering?"

Abby's gaze held steady, her stammer lessening as her confidence seemed to grow in the face of his genuine interest. "People aren't just one-dimensional, Mr. Remo. Every choice, every action, they all come together to create a narrative. And the way you carry yourself, the glint in your eyes—it's as if you're guarding a piece of yourself, one you're not ready to share with the world."

Remo regarded her for a moment, the enigmatic mask he often wore seemingly waning in her presence. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers now tapping rhythmically on the tabletop, a subtle display of his own nervous energy.

"You're quite observant, Miss Falcone," he admitted, his voice softer than before. "But be careful, curiosity has a way of leading us down paths we might not be prepared for."

Abby's smile remained unwavering, her fingers now still against the rim of her cup. "Perhaps it's the unexpected paths that often lead to the most intriguing stories," she responded, her hazel eyes holding his gaze with a newfound confidence.

Remo's lips quirked into a half-smile, a genuine appreciation for her outlook evident in his expression. He leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret between them. "You're a puzzle, Miss Falcone. A curious combination of shyness and courage, with a touch of mischief hidden beneath your own layers."

Abby's cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink, her shy smile returning. "I-I suppose we're all puzzles in our own way," she replied, her stammer less pronounced now. "And sometimes, the best way to solve a puzzle is to take the first step in unraveling it."

Remo's eyes held hers for a lingering moment before he leaned back again, a thoughtful glint in his gaze. "Touché, Miss Falcone," he said, his voice carrying a mix of admiration and something more—perhaps the beginning of a connection that neither of them had anticipated.

Abby took a sip of her coffee with a faint smile on her lips.

"So you said you needed my help?" Remo asked.

Y-yes" she said, her words clear and to the point.

"I need your protection. My dad's really sick and too weak to help me, and I don't want to burden my friends.

Sure, they'd offer me a place to crash, but I'd always have to watch my back, worried that my family might swoop in and manipulate me into doing their thing.

Unmarried women don't have many options, socially or legally. It's not exactly f-fair…but I can't waste time fighting battles that might not get me anywhere."

Taking a deep breath she continued,

"I need a h-husband."