Do I like her?
Lucio slides his hands under his shirt and lifts his fingers, replicating a heartbeat. “Does she make your heart do this funny thing in your chest?”
“We’re not having this conversation.”
“Does she make your junk feel alive again?” he continues, but I’m not playing along.
Pop comes to sit on a barstool near where I’m cleaning. I can feel the weight of his stare without looking up. “I know I’m not the best person to talk to about this shit, but the one thing I know a lot about is wasted time. There’s nothing worse than looking back and realizing everything you missed.”
“Spoken like a man with regret,” Lucio mutters under his breath.
“I have many regrets,” Pop tells him, hearing his words clear as a bell. “I regret all the years I missed with you kids. I regret the holidays and evenings I missed with your mother in my arms. I missed out on way too much. More than a person should miss in a lifetime. But I made my bed.”
“I have too many regrets, too.”
Mine all are about Marissa. The countless hours I spent at the bar when I should’ve been home with her. Precious seconds I wasted, thinking there would always be more, when that wasn’t the case.
“The only thing you can do is move forward and try not to repeat the mistakes of the past.”
Who is this man? Where did my father go? He’s never been one to dole out words of wisdom, and even when he did, they were never any good.
“For once, I can finally agree with Pop on something,” Lucio says, shocking both of us.
“Helloooo,” a woman says from the doorway. “Are you open?”
I’d know that voice anywhere. Tilly’s twang is like music to my ears after listening to them prattle on about what I should do with my life.
“Well, come on in, doll. It’s cold outside.” Pop motions to her as he glances in our direction.
“I just wanted to drop these off for Tate.” Tilly’s bathed in sunlight, looking like an angel and holding a pink box in one hand.
Lucio leans over. “Dude, she’s gorgeous.”
“Shut up,” I whisper, but he’s absolutely right. The woman is off the charts beautiful.
“And she bakes. Don’t be a dumb fuck,” he tells me as Tilly heads toward us.
My father’s on his feet quickly and cuts her off before she can make it to the bar. “I’m Santino, their father.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Santino. I’m Tilly Carter, owner of the cupcake shop next door.”
My father grabs her free hand and brings it to his lips. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet such a fine woman.”
Tilly blushes and lets out a small laugh. “You’re a handsome devil, aren’t you? I see where your boys get their good looks.”
Pop is eating up the compliments. He stands a little straighter, probably as sucked in by her beauty as I am. I can’t let him linger, and I head their way, cutting him off before he has a chance to sweet-talk her a little more.
“Go get her,” Lucio says quietly, just as annoying as my sister and mother.
The silly thing Lucio did with his hands under his shirt earlier rang true. My heart speeds up, beating a little harder and stronger than it was moments before she walked through the door.
Everything about Tilly Carter is sheer and utter perfection—from her pert little nose, light freckles dotting her round, high cheeks, and wavy auburn hair that changes color like the weather.
“Well, aren’t you a sweet little thing.” Pop holds his hand out, forcing Tilly backward a little so he can get another look.
I know he’s soaking her in, and it’s easy to do with the outfit she has on underneath that knee-length coat. The woman probably doesn’t own a pair of jeans or sweat pants. I’ve only seen her in pencil skirts and blouses, looking like she’s about to go out to dinner at a fancy restaurant instead of whipping up a new batch of desserts.
“Easy now.” I place my hand on my father’s shoulder because he’s overreaching.
