Vince's smile widened. He pulled off his sunglasses with deliberate slowness and tucked them into his jacket pocket. His eyes, now those were the same. Dark and assessing and not quite as warm as his smile. "Surprised to see me?"
April found her voice. It came out cold and flat. "What are you doing here?"
"Getting coffee." He gestured at the menu board behind her. "This is a coffee shop, right?"
"You need to leave."
His expression shifted—just a flicker, like a mask slipping for half a second before sliding back into place. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, baby. I just want to talk, April. That's all."
She was aware of the line behind him. Of customers watching. Of Hannah frozen beside her, eyes wide. Of Sonny looking up from the espresso machine, his expression sharpening.
"There's nothing to talk about except for you leaving," April said quietly.
“April, baby, please.” Vince’s expression went soft and sad. “It took me so long to find you. I’m not mad, okay? I just want to talk. Can’t we talk?” He looked around, caught the eye of the customer standing behind him and shrugged while laughing lightly, as if he’d only asked April the time.
“You heard my sister,” Hannah said, her voice colder than April had ever heard it. “Get the hell out of our shop.”
April felt her father suddenly at her side. His face was set in that expression April knew too well—the one that meant someone was about to get thrown out bodily if they didn’t leave immediately.
"You must be Vince," Sonny said, his voice carrying authority. "You need to leave. Now."
Vince glanced at him, unimpressed. "And you are?"
"The owner. And I'm telling you to get out of my shop."
April put her hand on her father's arm. "Sonny, I'll take care of it."
Vince’s eyes went wide. “Oh, you’re Sonny Taylor. My apologies.” He extended his hand. “I should have realized you’re my fiancée’s father. Good ta meet ya, sir.” Sonny just stared at his hand.
April nearly died right there. Then her fury rose, blotting out everything except Vincent Romano.
“Yourfiancée? How dare you call me that? It’s been almost ten years, Vince. Are you delusional?”
Vince covered his heart. “Love has no expiration date, April.”
April actually laughed. “Okay, yeah, okay. Youaredelulu.” She wiped a tear of mirth from her eye. "Yeah, Vince, we can talk.” She looked at the customer over his shoulder. “Sorry, sir, Hannah will be right with you.” She pulled the tie on her apron and grabbed the neck strap.
“April, no,” Hannah said, still glaring at Vince.
Sonny looked at her, then at Vince, then back at her. "You sure?"
"I'm sure. This won’t take long." She set the apron on a low shelf under the counter and started to go past her father.
He didn't move immediately. Just stood there, a wall of protective father energy, before finally stepping back. But he watched ever move his daughter made.
April walked out from behind the counter. “Come on,” she told Vince.
"Lead the way, baby. I’ll take you out to the finest restaurant they got in this little pisshole town."
God, that was equal parts hilarious and fury-inducing. He’d just put her in the position of defending the hometown that hated her.
“Yeah, well, I grew up in this little pisshole and I love it.” She was struck by the fact that it was true—somewhere along the way, she’d come to love her hometown.
Now’s not the time for shocking revelations, April. One conversation with this clown—who seems more pathetic than scary now that we’re face-to-face—and send him on his way.
“Sorry, baby.”
She hated that he called her that. Hated it with a fury that made her hands shake. But she kept it together and headed toward an empty table in the back corner that hadn’t been bussed yet—the one farthest from the other customers but still visible from the counter. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
