“Crickets.” I shrug. “You might be stuck with me at the restaurant forever at this point.”
“I can think of worse things. Seeing you every day would be a dream, honey.” He’s a big guy, old school about stifling his emotions, but sometimes they get the best of him. Inhaling a deep breath through his nose, he appears to suck back whatever he was feeling. “I know you’ll get something soon. Hopefully, it will be in the city so we can still see you.”
Standing behind the chair, I grip the back of it. “I hope so, too but teaching positions seem to be hard to come by in Manhattan. I’ve been applying in the boroughs, but I might have to expand my search out to Jersey.”
“What’s meant to be yours will be.”
Silently, I manifest with him, but mine involves a contract being ripped up, and Mr. Landers learning a hard lesson. Not sure if that is possible, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen. I laugh while opening the door. “You have such faith in me, Dad.”
“Always. I’d bet everything I had on you, Delaney.” I know he would. He would for any of his kids.
“Love you.”
“Love you, cannoli.”
Giggling, I close the door. My smile travels with me as I work my way back to the front of the restaurant and out thedoor. In the sunshine of the block, I walk to the next door and punch in the code to release it. I don’t bother checking the mail, hurrying past and dashing up the stairs. I unlock the door located on the first landing and shoulder check it open. Sometimes it sticks. This time, it didn’t, so I stumble inside. I catch myself before landing on my face. “Jesus.”
“Language, Delaney.” I want to roll my eyes, but if I did that every time she warned us about our choice of words, my eyes would be stuck at the back of my head. “Lorenzo oiled it the other day,” my mom says from the kitchen. “But you wouldn’t know since you haven’t been home in days. How are your adventures away from your family?”
I exhale the exasperation that will be heard in my voice if I don’t release it and walk to the other side of the peninsula where she’s making cookies.Uh-oh.It’s almost like she knew I’d stop by and was preparing for her guilt trip. “You make it sound like I’m purposely avoiding you guys.” She might not be entirely wrong.
“You’re not?”
“No, I’m not.” I can’t resist her double chocolate cookies, and she knows it. She must really be upset that I’ve been gone. I reach for a cookie, but a plastic spatula swats my hand. I angle my head. “I can’t have one?”
“No. Not until you tell me what’s going on with you.”
“Nothing is going on with me,” I reply, keeping my tone even so I don’t raise suspicion, though I think it’s safe to say it’s already raised as high as it can go. Nothing gets past my mom. “I’ve just been hanging out with a friend.”
A smile and her eyes gleaming in delight are the first warning. She’s about to come in for the kill. “Is this a male friend by chance?”
I’m twenty-four. It wouldn’t be so out of the ordinary if I had male “friends” as she likes to call them—guys I mightbe dating versus actual friends who are males. I’m not sure Warner would classify as a male friend or a male “friend” of mine. He’s just a male. The enemy. “Might be.” Might not be, but I really don’t want to go into this. “I’m not ready to talk about it just yet, but I promise not to keep you out of the loop forever.”
“Forever?” The ends of her bobbed brown hair sweep over her shoulders in reaction. So many of my features came from her—my blue eyes, hair color, even my shorter stature. Growing up in Connecticut, she has her quieter, deep-in-thought moments. Pleasant small talk comes naturally for her and rubbed off on me, though I’m certain Warner would argue otherwise. Sometimes she leans into my dad’s Italian side with gestures of love, kisses, and hugs. We’re not shy about making our feelings known, and I adore the warmth I feel in this home.
I grin, already cruising to my bedroom. “Not forever. For now. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, Delly.”
When I open my bedroom door, particles of dust float in the ray of sunshine streaming in through the window. You would have thought I hadn’t been here in months. Two days have already changed things. I even feel different standing here, like the little girl no longer exists.
I’m not really married.
I’m not playing house.
I’m not dating him, and I sure as heck am not in love.
This is ridiculous. It may not be a fully thought-out plan, but it has enough legs to get me going. It’s up to me to stay on track. No emotions needed. No feelings should be involved.Other than detest.That one I’ll allow when it comes to Warner.
I grab a suitcase from under my bed and lay it open onthe mattress. A few things from different drawers get tucked, a couple pairs of flats, and then I stand at my closet, blanking on what I should pack. I shouldn’t overthink it. It’s a heist of his heart so that I can inject some humanity back into it. “Black, it is.” I pull a black sweater, a blue satin tank top that always looks good on a night out, and some fitted pants from the shelf. I tug a red dress from the hanger and neatly fold it on top. After adding a pair of jeans, I give the case a once-over before slipping over to my dresser to grab a body spray. I set it back down when I remember how divine his soaps smell. My spray smells cheap in comparison. I return it, but spot a framed photo of me shoved against the windowsill by books I had to read for class. I grab it and a few other knickknacks and place them on the dress so they don’t break.
Dabbing a little makeup on, I don’t overdo it, but I do add some color back into my face. Exhaustion has zapped more than my energy and installed dark circles. Nothing a good concealer can’t cover. After adding gloss to my lips, I toss it all in with my clothes.
Last order of business—tuck the newly broken phone into the base of the suitcase. Once that’s done, I seal her up.
Trying to exit without a scene will be an interesting task. I know as soon as my mom sees the suitcase, I’m going to be given a hard time again. But as luck would have it, she’s standing at the bay window on a call. I hug her from behind and kiss her shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few days. Text if you need me.”
Whispering, she says, “Take a cookie.” She nods, but I can tell she’s pulled back into the phone conversation. “Mom, I said I’ll come out next Friday . . .”
