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Every counter is covered in food. There’s pastries, pizza, pasta. A whole platter of grilled cheese. Chicken noodle soup and pastina piled into bowls.
There are five cakes.
Five.
“Is there a party?” I murmur, wondering if we should back out quickly before I have to tell Luna to keep out of the food.
“Good morning,” I hear a familiar voice rumble.
I freeze, ice creeping up my spine.
Elio emerges from behind a platter of noodles. He’s wearing an apron, he has dark bags under his eyes, and his smile could power a generator.
He’s looking right at Luna. “I thought you might be hungry this morning, but I don’t know what you like,” he says softly.
She blinks. “I love cake,” she whispers.
Heck no.“You can’t have cake for breakfast, sweetie.”
Her eyes glimmer with tears. “But Mommy…”
“We will save the cake for later,” Elio says gently. “But here, remember you told me, you like toast from France?”
“French toast,” I automatically correct.
Shit.
Elio’s eyes latch onto mine, and his whole face crinkles into a smile.
Double shit.
“French toast,” he says, the words rolling around in his accent.
“Mommy said I could have French toast!” Luna shrieks.
Elio guides her to the tray. She grabs way more than I might want her to have, then douses it in powdered sugar, but I don’t stop her.
As Luna settles down at the small kitchen table to eat, I turn to Elio. “Did you know how to make all this?”
“There are videos on YouTube, Caterina. I may be an idiot, but I am resourceful,” he says in a light tone.
I flush. “I never said you were.”
“Ah. But you did not think that I could cook after the grilled bread?”
“No,” I admit softly.
He laughs, a low chuckle that ripples up my spine. “I can cook. And, I am also an idiot.”
“Don’t say that,” I respond automatically.
He makes a scolding noise. “Caterina, listen to me. I am as foolish as I say because I let you walk away last night without explaining.”
Every muscle in by body goes stone still. “What?” I squeak, hoping Luna is too engrossed in her food to hear us.
“I let you walk away without telling you that I want you. More than anything. I spent all night cooking food for my daughter because if I spent any time trying to sleep, all my mind did was think of you. And it was torture, Caterina,” he murmurs.
“Torture?” I sound like a parrot but all I can do is repeat the words that are the loudest in my mind.
