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He waves me out, and I exit into the hallway.
“Hey, Milo,” Doogan greets.
I close the door behind me. “How’s it going, Doog?”
He sighs. “Busy.”
I nod, but I still don’t care. “Yeah, I don’t envy the big guy tonight. Anyway, take care.”
“You, too, Milo.”
I head back to the main lobby where the same drivers are still working on their coffees. I give them a noncommittal wave and continue on through the front doors. It’s not that I hate them or this place.
It just makes it a hell of a lot easier to leave when you don’t give a shit.
CHAPTER 3
ANNA
Inavigate through the evening traffic of Boston, feeling more and more impatient with each red light, but I don’t let it impact my speed. Arrive alive, as they always say. I’ll get there safe and sound and when I do, I’ll get to hug and kiss the sweetest girl in the whole world.
The bakery comes into view, along with the bar on its left. Muffin Top and Ryan’s House, the best darn joints in town, but I’m more than a little bias. My brother, Vincent, owns the bakery. His wife, Evey, owns the bar with her brother, Tommy. And my daughter has spent about a third of her life running between them with her cousin, Zachary.
Bias schmias. My family is awesome.
I pull into the alleyway between the buildings and park my car in the back next to Tommy’s beat-up old Chevy.
I step into Muffin Top and inhale a deep breath, filling my nose with enough warm sugar to make me forget every moment of my day until now. It’s the end of the evening rush, leaving only a few folks left to finish off their coffee and pastries.
“Mommy!”
She sees me before I see her. Charlotte sits at the table closest to the register with Zachary, the surface overloaded with paper and crayons. She wears a pink stethoscope around her neck and I make a mental note to ask Vincent about it later.
The employee, Monica, stands behind the register with one eye on them and another open for potential customers. She looks up at me through her red bangs and waves hello. “Yo, Boss!” she calls out behind her. “Anna’s here!”
I give a thumbs up. “Thanks, Mon.”
Charlotte slides off her chair and rushes toward me. I meet her halfway, pulling her up to hold her as soon as she leaps for me.
“Hey, honey.” I kiss her cheeks all over. “Did you have a good day?”
“Yeah!”
“Yeah?” I stop at the table and rub Zachary’s thick, brown-haired head. “Hey, Zach-attack!” I say. “How’s it going?”
He barely looks up from his drawing. Five-years-old and he’s already too cool to say hi to his aunt, but I won’t hold it against him. He’s too cute to scold.
I nudge his chin as Vincent comes out from the back, easily standing a full foot taller than Monica beside him. His black shirt looks about ready to rip in half thanks to the muscles begging for freedom beneath it. Not exactly what you’d expect to see of a baker, but the Silva family has always been a little bit out of the ordinary.
He crosses his arms. “You’re late,” he says to me.
“I was fighting crime,” I say. I pinch the scope around Charlotte’s neck. “Why does my daughter have a stethoscope?”
He gestures behind him and turns around to head into the back, expecting me to follow.
“Uh-oh...” I murmur. I turn to blow a raspberry on Charlotte’s cheek and she giggles as I set her back down in her chair. “Stay here for Mommy. I’ll be right back.”
Monica gives me a reassuring I’ll-watch-the-kids nod as I pass by her into the back.
