“I love you, too.” Blowing her a kiss, Teo raised a forkful of ziti to his mouth. “Thanks.”
After everyone had gone home, and she lay in her bed, Gina opened the copy ofRevolver. Her fingers skimming over the glossy pages, she smiled at the images of the drummer whose hair she pulled as a child. Bo looked the same as he did back then. He had a daughter now. Taylor was married with two kids already. She vaguely remembered when Tony mentioned he was going to his wedding.
Gina gazed upon those warm brown eyes that looked for her yesterday in the park, taking in every detail of him at her leisure. Music-driven. Protective of his privacy. Fiercely loyal to his family, who he said were his brothers in the band. The narrative painted him in a cold, harsh light. Funny, her perception of him was very much the opposite.
It’s probably all bullshit, anyway.
She’d read it all later. There had to be more to the man than that. But as her gaze lingered on his image, Gina couldn’t helpbut wonder if maybe, just maybe, Matt McCready might turn out to be worth the risk.
If he had to consume any more goddamn cannoli, he might vomit. It wasn’t because Matt didn’t like the rich Italian pastry, he did, but he’d been eating them on a weekly basis for how long—two months now? Every Thursday morning, he cut through the park, grabbed a coffee from Katie, then walked across the street to Rossi’s bakery on the off chance he’d see her, but she was never there.
Where was she? And who was this girl who delivered pizza one day and tied on a baker’s apron another? All Matt knew was her first name.
He should’ve gone after her that day he spotted her in the park, but Matt missed out on his opportunity, thanks to a gaggle of fangirls visiting the city on spring break. The Venery boys grew up in this neighborhood, so most folks who lived here had known them since they were kids and weren’t fazed to see them. Sometimes, though, people came around to seek them out. Hence, the reason they gated Park Place.
By the time he finished signing autographs and taking selfies with the girls, Gina was gone. Matt tried to catch up with her out on First Avenue, but she was well ahead of him by then. Too late, he called out her name. He should’ve chased after her,and he would have if the sidewalk hadn’t been so crowded with Saturday afternoon shoppers.
Catch you next time, bunny.
And there would be a next time.
It was Thursday, after all.
Matt watched the blonde chick stocking cookies in the display case through the storefront window. Thankful the bakery was empty and Mrs. Rossi wasn’t in sight, he opened the door. At the tinkle of the little brass bells, the girl glanced up at him and giggled.
“Gina’s not here, you know.”
Of course, she isn’t.
“How many cannoli would you like?” she asked, tongs at the ready. “We only have chocolate chip and pistachio today. My mother-in-law doesn’t make the flavors Gina does.”
“Mrs. Rossi’s your mother-in-law?”
“Yeah, I’m Nick’s wife.”
How did I not know that?
“I’ll take a dozen.” Not that he planned on eating any of them. “I have a meeting this morning.”
“You want to get something else, then?” And she moved to the other end of the glass case. “How about somezeppole? They’re kind of like doughnuts filled with pastry cream, chocolate, or jam, but my favorite way to have them is when they’re still warm, out of a paper bag, covered in powdered sugar.”
“All right, you convinced me.” Matt leaned against the counter and nodded. “Give me the doughnuts.”
“They’re so good.”
“So… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name…” He glanced up and gave her a flirty grin, the one that turned the ladies into goo.
She blushed. “Sara.”
“Sara,” he repeated. “Can you tell me when shewillbe here?”
“Sorry, I can’t do that.” Sara went to work, plucking Italian doughnuts out of the case with her tongs.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know when that might be.” She closed the lid of the bakery box, tying it with red and white string. “Gina only comes in to help sometimes—when Rosemary guilt-trips her into it. Like she doesn’t already work her ass off at the hospital.”
“Hospital?”
