“Pizza fries?” I ask.
“Pizza fries.”
I lean my head on his shoulder, and he swings an arm around me.
“I think you’re good for her,” he says. “For Eva. She’s happy—?well, happier. And I think she’s good for you, too. I just wanted you to know that.”
“Thanks. I mean it.”
Suddenly, he shoves me upright and flicks open my music book in one motion. “Now get your ass to work.”
I plant my fingers on the keys and smile like I’m posing for a picture. He ruffles my hair, and I start the beginning of Fantasie as he leaves.
But as soon as he’s out the door, my fingers go still.
Luca and I are in the middle of the most epic pizza-fry war in our history when my phone rings. I have about five overlapping strings of cheese stretching from the plate to my mouth. Luca has only three, which means for the first time in years, I’m winning. My mouth is full of fries and pepperoni. Emmy sits on the couch in the living room and plans out a fall menu for LuMac’s, mumbling that we’re going to choke to death, but she’s got a little smile on her face.
When I first got there, Emmy gulped me into her arms and held me for what seemed like hours, so I know Luca must’ve filled her in on everything that’s happened and what’s going on between Eva and me. It felt so damn good to prop my chin on her shoulder, I let her hug me for as long as she wanted.
“You know I love you to pieces,” she whispered in my ear. “And I love Eva to pieces, but I worry about you both. Put the two of you together and double the worry. Do you understand what I’m saying?” I could only nod against her shoulder. We didn’t say anything about Maggie. What was there to say?
Turns out, Emmy refused to feed me a meal consisting solely of pizza fries, so she made roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and green beans, which was a little slice of freaking heaven after two days of vending-machine food and LuMac’s doughnuts. But she’s nothing if not a total softy, so she cooked me up a batch of pizza fries too. Now it’s nine o’clock at night, my stomach is close to popping from the home-cooked meal, and I’m stuffing fried potatoes covered in cheese and processed meat into my mouth in Luca’s kitchen.
And I love every minute of it. Because I’m laughing and Luca’s laughing, and I think he and Emmy both knew I needed this.
My phone trills in my bag, and Luca points a finger at me that says, Don’t you dare answer that.
I ignore him, chewing rapidly and, unfortunately, breaking my victorious strands of cheese. Grabbing a napkin, I wipe my face while I dig my phone out of my bag’s depths. Only one person would be calling me right now, and I say a few silent prayers to the gods that she’s not stranded at Ruby’s or some guy’s apartment a town away.
But it’s not Mom.
It’s Eva, and the second I see her name, a little flare of happiness ignites in my stomach, despite all the food in there right now.
“Hey,” I say after I swipe my finger over the screen. “I thought you were at work.”
Nothing for a split second, but I think I hear her sniffle or something.
“Eva?”
“Yeah. Hey.”
Her words flow out on an exhale, and her voice sounds small. Small and tired and scared. Immediately, my hackles are up, and I’m out of my chair and walking toward the front door.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Are you okay?”
“What’s going on?” Luca’s out of his seat too, following me. I shake my head at him and hold up my forefinger.
“Um,” Eva says, her voice shaking. “I’m . . . I’m at the hospital.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m okay. Just a bump on my head, but—?”
“Just a bump on your head? What the hell happened?”
Luca disappears from my view, and I hear him call for Emmy. On the phone, Eva doesn’t answer me, but I hear her labored breathing and some beeping in the background.
Hospital noises.
