Page 17

“I didn’t realize it’s a clothes-optional meal,” a woman says behind me.

I whirl around, shielding my junk with the cracker box. A million questions rattle through my head as I stare at an older, stout woman with silver hair, an apron, and an arm full of food.

“Do you know me?” I ask. “I mean, do you live here? I’m not…” I trail off, at a loss for how to recover.

The woman cackles and takes slow steps to the island. “Larky said you would need get-better food.”

My brain processes Larky is Lark, who is Skylar.

“Here’s some pastina soup. One with egg and one without.” She separates the containers. “Some riso in bianco for an upset stomach and tea with honey.”

“You made all this for me?” The portion size is enough for five hockey players.

“Take home what you can’t eat.” She waves her hand.

“Thank you. I’m Maverick Maher.” I hold my hand out to shake.

She gives me the once-over and steps closer to embrace me, ignoring my hand. “My Larky needs more people to love him. Be good to him, okay?” She squeezes me tight, as if she can impose her will on me, even though she’s not as tall as my armpit.

“Are you his grandma?” I step away, unable to find a family resemblance and keeping my germs to myself. I wouldn’t hug me.

“Eat.” She points at the food, then opens a drawer to hand me a spoon and a fork. “I’m his nonna by choice. He’s good to me while waiting for me to die.” She laughs at my expression. “Call me Maria.”

I choke on the rice dish, and she moves me to sit at the island. The kitchen has been renovated recently. Whoever did it kept the charm of the old house while adding sleek countertops and a huge stove that looks shiny and new. The warm wood exudes coziness.

“This is really good, Maria.” I taste the soup with egg. “Your family is lucky to have you.” My mom has lots of skills, but cooking is not at the top of the list.

“Do you hear heavy footsteps banging around the third floor? No, you don’t.” She tsks me as if I were a child who should know better. “I live alone. So that’s why me and Larky are so good for each other.”

“Sorry for your loss.” I shove more soup in my mouth so I’ll shut the hell up.

“My poor Mario died years ago. No kids.” She shrugs like it’s not a big deal.

“That’s terrible. How did he die?” This soup is exactly what I need.

She shrugs again. “Doctor couldn’t say.” A smile spreads across her face. “He died after eating my pastina.”

I inhale soup into my lungs and think I’m drowning.

“Nonna.” Sky stands in the open doorway in loose gray sweatpants and a tight crop top with his hands on his hips. “We agreed to keep that a secret. Someone might call the cops on you. There’s no statute of limitations on murder.” He saunters over and hugs her.

Mercifully, Sky slaps between my shoulder blades and air escapes.

“You’re both certifiable,” I grumble.

“She’s my chosen family,” Sky says. “She will cut me with a comment or a paring knife. Whichever the situation calls for.” He kisses the top of her head.

“I’ll leave you boys. Be good. Or don’t.” Her cackle follows her out.

“You feeling better?” He sits on the stool next to me and scoops up some rice.

I nod awkwardly and strangely shy. “She seems great.”

“She’s one of a kind, for sure. And she gave you the fancy to-go plastic, she must like you.” He’s powering through the rice dish in the same way as a person who has never seen food before.

“Um, she showed up with this before she met me. I’m in my underwear. I met your nonna in this.” My hand flaps near my naked chest. “In my defense, I called out and thought I was alone.” I can’t look at him and risk getting hard. His smell is stronger with sweat, and I don’t trust myself not to beg him for another chance. “Sorry you got tricked into taking care of me. I was oblivious to what Brant was doing. He told me he was finding me a nurse, and I was too out of it to question him.”

“Why did he choose me out of all the people in your contact list?” he asks with surprise.