Page 2 of Ruined: Tobias

“Who?”

“You know.” Eric shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. “His fiancée.”

A chuckle escaped. It was a good cover up for the damned tightening in her chest every time she was reminded he was engaged. Not that it should matter much, but when he’d come to inform her of it, somehow, they’d ended up in bed. They’d not spoken of it again, pretending it never happened, which was fine with her.

He was not only an idiot but also her Kryptonite.

Tori placed her free hand on Eric’s lower arm. “You don’t have to tiptoe around me. Tobias and I are long over. It’s been what, twenty years? I don’t know why everyone acts as if our high school relationship just ended last week.”

Eric frowned. “Probably because we all kept expecting you’d get married and have a happy ending, even after all these years.”

It would never happen. If anything, they hated each other more and more as time passed. How he’d acted over her spilled vegetables was par for the course. If they’d had sex the night he’d come to inform her of his plans to ask someone to marry him, it was the result of him drinking, which he rarely did, and her having had half a bottle of wine.

Oh, and that damned television series of a super-hot Scottish man always taking his shirt off.

She sighed. “I better get inside. The sauce won’t make itself.” Tori gave Eric her best smile. “Don’t forget law enforcement always gets a free meal at Victoria’s once a week.”

“I may just come for dinner today. Nothing like your lasagna to end the day on a good note.” He walked away toward his cousin, still smiling.

The dim interior of her restaurant always made her feel at ease. Victoria’s was named after her great-grandmother, who’d lived in Italy. Tori had also been named after the woman. The way her father described her great-grandmother, the woman was the reincarnation of Jesus’ mother Mary.

Every time her father talked about his grandmother, her mother’s eye rolls made Tori think the woman hadn’t been all that saintly.

When her parents moved to Laurel Creek, Tori was a toddler. They’d opened the Italian restaurant because her father’s cooking was in high demand. Once Tori was old enough, she’d worked at the restaurant on weekends and summers.

Over the years, Tori learned every secret and recipe from her father. They’d spent many a day listening to fifties music while stirring sauces and cutting pasta. Her father insisted she cook each item on the menu over and over until it came naturally.

So when he’d suddenly died of a heart attack, Tori was poised to take it over along with her mother. Now that her mother had passed, it was only her.

The year her father died had been the hardest of her life.

“Hey, Tori,” Marco, her head chef and manager, greeted when she walked into the kitchen. “How’s it going?”

She maneuvered around the kitchen to a metal table. “Dropped all these outside. My old market bag finally gave out.” She dug the offending item from her back jeans pocket and held the tattered remnants up for him to inspect. “Too bad, I really liked this one.”

“You get attached to shit too much,” Marco said, walking over to inspect the food. “Things look okay.”

“One tomato met a gruesome end.”

“Rest its red soul,” Mario said, grabbing a bowl and putting the items in it to rinse off. “I’m in the mood for pesto.”

Tori lifted an eyebrow. “So pesto chicken over bow pasta will be the special?”

He nodded, already dismissing her. “You take care of the tomato sauce, while I work on my masterpiece.”

It would be an hour before her pasta would be hanging out to dry, so she hurried to grab the canisters of flour and everything else she’d need.

They worked without speaking. Marco’s favorite music played over the wireless system. She’d given up trying to talk him out of listening to what she termed “wedding-elevator music”. Now, three years later, she sang along with Barry Manilow as she kneaded the dough.

“Delivery for Victoria Romano.” A guy holding a vase filled with flowers entered. Her favorite flowers, daisies and yellow roses were framed with puffy baby’s breath.

Tori’s friend Allison, owned a quaint flower shop across the street, ever so often she’d send over flowers. Allison was such a good friend.

Had she sent the flowers after Tori had spilled all the details of her night escapade with Tobias? No doubt, her friend was trying to lift her spirits.

She was fine and didn’t need to be cheered up. Sleeping with Tobias had been a huge mistake and Tori vowed to forget about it.

Still, it was a sweet gesture.