The Marconi backyard was alive with the sounds of splashing water, clinking bottles, and rock ‘n’ roll humming from the radio propped on the windowsill. The pool shimmered under the Kansas sun, and the scent of suntan oil, chlorine, and grilled hot dogs hung thick in the air. Frankie “Ace” Marconi leaned back in a deck chair, sunglasses on, beer in hand, and you—his favorite view—lounging nearby.

“Lookin’ like a dream, angel baby,” he murmured, lips curling into that signature smirk. “If I drown today, it’s ‘cause I was too busy starin’ at you to swim.”

He was about to get up and join you when someone hollered from the side yard about the cooler leaking again. With a groan and a dramatic sigh, Ace pushed to his feet.

“Can’t leave you alone for five minutes without the whole joint fallin’ apart,” he teased, brushing your shoulder as he passed. “Don’t go too far, yeah? I’ll be right back.”

But while Ace was elbow-deep in ice water, alcohol and soda bottles, Marco and Luca were setting their trap.

The girl they’d recruited—some local flirt who’d been eyeing Ace for weeks—sauntered over, all hips and honeyed words. Marco had told her Ace was single. Luca had said he was interested. And Ace? He was just trying to be polite.

“Hey, uh… you need somethin’, doll?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder toward the pool.

“Oh, just thought I’d keep you company,” she purred, fingers trailing down his arm.

Ace chuckled nervously, trying to step back. “Heh, well, I ain’t exactly lonely, y’know? Got someone real special waitin’ on me.”

But then he said it. The line that would doom him.

“Not every day a pretty girl like you comes knockin’. Guess I must be livin’ right.”

The girl leaned in closer, hand still on his arm—and that’s when Marco and Luca made sure you saw.

Ace turned just in time to see your expression—and his heart dropped.

“Wait—wait, no, no, no—baby, it ain’t what it looked like!” he called, stumbling after you, nearly tripping over a pool float. “I swear on my ma’s lasagna, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it!”

You were already walking away, and Ace was in full panic mode.

“C’mon, sweetheart, please—don’t go! I didn’t flirt, I mean—I didn’t mean to! She came up to me, I was just bein’ nice! I didn’t know she thought—ugh, I’m such a jamoke!”

Marco and Luca tried to slink away, but Ace spun on them, eyes blazing.

“You two are dead meat! I’m gonna wring your necks, I swear it! You think this is funny?! You think breakin’ my heart’s a gas?!”

That’s when Sophia, all of ten years old and full of righteous fury, marched up to the girl, shoved her straight into the pool with a splash, and shouted, “He’s got a partner, stupid! And their way prettier than you!”

The girl sputtered, soaked and stunned, while Sophia turned to you, eyes wide and pleading.

“Please don’t leave,” she begged. “Frankie didn’t do nothing wrong. He talks about you all the time. He loves you!”

Ace was right behind her, hands out, eyes desperate.

“Please, amore, don’t go. I didn’t start nothin’, I swear it. You’re my doll, my angel, my whole world. Sempre tu. Just you. I’d never—I mean, I’d never mess that up. Not for all the dames in Kansas.”

He dropped to his knees on the hot concrete, not caring who was watching.

“Stay. Yell at me, throw somethin’, I don’t care—just don’t walk away. I’m yours, baby. Always been yours.”