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“Like the orange juice that’s made from concentrate?”
He ran his hands down his face. “You’re hard to crack, you know. I’ve never failed at making someone laugh before. I may as well have asked why the chicken crossed the road.”
ext morning, a loud banging ricocheted through the room, and Haven jumped out of bed as Dominic’s voice carried through the door. “Rise and shine!”
She glanced at the clock—a few minutes past seven. She pulled open the door when Dominic knocked again, and he grinned brightly, raising his eyebrows. “Too tired to get changed last night?”
She glanced down and realized she still had her clothes on from the day before. “I didn’t think about it. Why are you up early?”
“Because I’m starving! Breakfast is in order.”
“Did you want me to make you something?”
He laughed. “Of course not. Damn, girl, are you awake yet? Do you really think I’d drag you out of bed so you could cook? We’re going out for breakfast . . . just you and me.”
* * *
Crossroads Diner was packed when they arrived, and much to the dismay of some waiting patrons, Dominic got a table right away. Looking through the menu, Haven ordered French toast while Dominic rattled off a list of eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, fruit, and toast. She wasn’t surprised because she was used to feeding him, but he smiled sheepishly anyway. “What can I say? I’m a growing boy.”
“I think you’re done growing, Dom.”
He laughed, pushing up his shirtsleeve and flexing his weak muscle. “I need fuel, though. These guns are the only ones I carry and they don’t come naturally, little sis.”
“Little sis,” she said, echoing his words.
“Yeah,” he said. “Someday you might make it official by marrying my shithead little brother.”
She smiled at the thought.
The waitress returned with their food, and the two of them ate. Despite the fact that the place was noisy, a comfortable silence surrounded their table.
“Did you ever think it would be this way?” Dominic asked after a few minutes.
“What way?”
He waved his fork in the air, motioning all around them. “This way. Coming here, having a life, getting a family, meeting Carmine. All of it, really. Did you ever think this would happen?”
She contemplated his question as he took a bite of food. “My mama said I’d end up somewhere like this, but I figured I was given the life I had so the most I could do was get used to it.”
“I can relate,” Dominic said. “Did you know I was adopted?”
She was caught off guard. “No.”
“I am. My real mom . . . well, no, Maura was my real mom in every way that counted. The woman who birthed me was raped, and out I popped.”
Haven’s mouth dropped open. “I was made the same way.”
“I figured,” he said. “See, you and I aren’t that different. None of us are when it comes down to it. The only difference is my mom stumbled upon me at the right time and saved me from what could’ve been a disaster. I wonder all the time where I’d be if they hadn’t taken me in.”
“You got lucky.”
“I did,” he said. “You and Carmine aren’t that different, either. My brother’s a spoiled little shit—that’s why he’s picky. Everyone always catered to him. Not saying I was neglected, because I wasn’t, but Carmine received the kind of attention I never had to deal with.”
“What kind of attention?”
“Attention from, uh . . . Dad’s friends.” He glanced around to see if anyone was listening. “At my christening when I was a kid, there were about two dozen people. It was relaxed, a potluck at the house. Carmine’s christening was a few months after mine, and hundreds of people came to show their respect. It had to be catered and held in a reception hall.”
Haven frowned. “That’s horrible.”
