Later that night when I visited her, I tried to ask her out again. There was a moment where she looked at me as if she could think of me as more than a friend. My mouth went dry, and I couldn’t get the words out fast enough before Mr. Bella showed up.
I take a deep breath, my memories telling too much truth. Rocco threatened to destroy me if I ever touched her. At first, I thought he was joking, but his pupils got all dilated, and he never dropped it.
I tried to pretend that I didn’t love her.
I’d look the other way when we’d cross paths in the hall at school.
My feelings just continued to grow.
It was as if Rocco could smell them, because he was always there, too. He refused to get out of my way, and now after so many years have passed, I’ve still never had the chance to tell her how I feel.
“Hey, are you still there?” Mr. Bella hollers back through the boxes, inserting himself into my memories.
“Yeah.” I blink, and remember he’s still trapped. “Give me one moment, I’m calling Gia.”
I swallow, coating my throat as this is going to take every ounce of strength I have.
eight
Gia
As the sous chef of the resort’s five-star restaurant, I take my desserts very seriously. I had my perfect round cakes cooling in the pans, and I’m starting work on my famous chocolate ganache to coat the layers. I drop the vat of butter in the pan and turn on the stove, taking a moment to adjust the temperature just right.
“Wow, Gia!” Grace exclaims as she returns to the kitchen with a matte black folder in her hands. Even with her blonde ponytail tussled under her hairnet, and one single wispy strand of hair dangling next to her face, she still looks like a model. “Someone is blackmailing you. They dropped off all these photos, and there’s no note.” She yanks a glossy 8 by 10 out of the packet, flashing it at me. “It’s scathing.”
Churning my stomach into knots, I advance towards her while frantically wiping my fingers on my apron. “Give me those.” I tug the packet out of her hands, but my stomach loop easily relaxes. “These aren’t embarrassing photos. These are my newheadshots. I paid a lot of money to have them done.” I flip through the pile of 8 by 10s. Sure, my glasses are bigger than average, and I’ve sprouted more than a freckle or two since moving near the beach, but there’s nothingscathingabout these.
She perks a feather brow at me. “Headshots?”
Half embarrassed, I lower my gaze. “I’m thinking of going on this new dating app called,Your Last First Date. My dad got a free match card the other day while he was standing outside his shop. He clearly isn’t going to use it, so he gave it to me. I looked it up, and it has really good reviews, and frankly, I must be doing something wrong.” I shake, the hopelessness of being forever single seeping in. “I’m not having any luck with the available dating pool.”
“What?” Grace’s perfectly pink-stained lips part into a gasp. “When were you going to tell me this secret?”
“It’s not a secret.” I drop my voice, remembering we’re still at work. “I didn’t think I needed to advertise it everywhere.”
“I totally understand.” She asserts with a giant supportive nod, and whispers, “Did your date last weekend not go well?”
“There wasn’t anythingwrongwith him, but there wasn’t anything right either,” I continue in a hushed voice, hoping our manager, Marcie, doesn’t overhear my personal life saga. “He was so distracted by everything. If he wasn’t looking at his phone, he was ogling the table of women next to us. It’s my pattern that I get men who don’t care to spend quality time with me.”
“I had no idea you were feeling so overwhelmed you were looking online.” Grace’s lips grow into a full smile. “Online dating is going to be so much fun. What else do you have up your sleeve?”
A chuckle falls from my lips. “Well, this morning it was a sock left over from the dryer.” Before I can crack another joke aboutmy lackluster life, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, and my breath hitches in my throat.
North Newson.
His name sears a trail right to my heart. I hadn’t spoken to him in years. Not that I ever forgot about him. He seems to be that one “what if” in my life that never resolved itself. If I’m honest, he’s one of the main reasons I don’t care to go home much. It’s torture to my heart to see him over the fence. I’m instantly transported back to high school when I was head over heels for him.
Or maybe I’m not remembering the past feelings as much as I’m unable to push down current ones.
Either way, it’s immobilizing.
“I’m going to step out back and take this,” my voice floats out, while my eyes hang onto North’s name.
“Oh, more secret dates.” Her voice drops into a sweet giggle.
I wave her off as I step out the kitchen backdoor and into the private loading dock. The phone’s ringing, and I dig deep and suck back a chestful of fresh air before I press the phone to my ear. “North Newson. What a surprise.”
“Gia Bella. Your voice sounds exactly the same.”
