“Neitherdid I,” I said, not caring how that sounded to my friend, as I now angrilyglared at my husband.
Wewere five minutes from my parents’ house, and I had to wonder, how long had hebeen here? How long had he been working in my vicinity without so much as aknock on the door, or hell, a phone call, or text? Had he been watching me?Following my every move? God, I had so many questions, there were so manyanswers I wanted to demand of him, but all I could do was stare, mouth agapeand eyes watering. Because above all the questions, demands, and anger, therewas the bittersweet truth that, had he successfully taken his own life, thismoment never would have been.
“Whatare you ladies havin'?” he asked, propping the broom against the booth, andpulling a notepad from his pocket.
“Whatare you—”
“Andy,”he cut me off gently. “You'll get your answers, I promise. But you both lookstarving, so let me feed you first.”
Icouldn't argue that, so I did. I let him bring out a basket of garlic knots anda bowl of salad. Then, after we'd polished those off, he produced two heapingbowls of spaghetti and meatballs that I couldn't imagine ever having thestomach capacity to finish. Everything was satisfying and excellent, and whenwe were done and nearly bursting at the seams, Vinnie asked if we wanteddessert.
“Oh,God,” I groaned, holding my hands over my stomach. “I think I'll die if I haveanything else.”
“Nah,you won't,” he laughed, then turned toward the blond guy behind the counter.“Hey, Kev. Tell Marco to bring out the caramel gelato.”
“Yougot it, boss,” Kev replied, and disappeared behind the swinging kitchen doors.
Turningback to Vinnie, I raised a brow and asked, “Boss?”
Histhumbnail tucked between his teeth and Tracey took that as her cue. “I need toget going,” she said abruptly, standing from the booth and grabbing her bag.“Thank you so much for dinner, Vinnie. What do I owe you?”
Heshook his head and cut the air with a gesture of his hand. He was his father'sson. “Don't worry ‘bout it. It's on me.”
Shesmiled and bowed her head graciously. “Thank you. And Vinnie?”
“Yeah?”
Shelifted her head to look into his eyes and said, “This is why you weren't taken,to be with her. Treat her right this time, okay? Treatbothof youright.”
Hetook a deep breath, as he studied her. Question creased the lines on hisforehead as he looked from her to me, but then, he nodded. “I will.”
“Good.”Tracey turned to look at me and waved with a flourish of her fingers. “I'llcall you soon. Maybe we should take this show on the road.”
Withone last smile, she hurried out, leaving me alone with my once sad and angry,but always devastatingly beautiful husband. Marco brought out a pint of gelatoand a few spoons and handed them over to Vinnie, who laid it all on the table.
Then,he sat down where Tracey had been and grabbed a spoon. I stared at himincredulously as he dug in, not knowing what was now supposed to happen, orwhat I should say, and came up with nothing.
Vinnienudged the other spoon toward me and with a mouthful of gelato, said, “Come on,sweetheart. Eat. And while you're at it, ask me whatever you want. I won't lieto you, but you gotta do somethin' for me, too.”
“What'sthat?” I asked skeptically, taking the spoon.
“Yougotta be honest with me.”
Andfor the first time in our months together, I agreed. To both him and myself.
CHAPTERFORTY-TWO
VINNIE
“Whatthe hell are you doing here?”
Thatwas her first question. Not how I'd been or what I'd been up to in the monthssince I'd last seen her. She wanted to know what the hell had brought me here,to this restaurant, in this moment. She probably thought it was all a set up,and I had to admit, it would've been a good one. But honestly, I'd been just assurprised to see her walk through the door. The moment had been nothing shortof serendipitous and I knew that. But she didn't.
“Iwork here,” I answered simply, digging my spoon into the tub of gelato.
“Hecalled you boss.”
“Right,”I said with a nod. “Because I'm his boss.”
