AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How’s Lars doing?” I asked as I placed the dry ingredients in a bowl.
“Good.” Mom used the mixer to gently stir the sugar with the butter, getting it combined evenly so the cookies would be spectacular. Both of us hardly ate sweets, so when we made them, it was more for the busywork than the actual reward. “He’s been taking it easy. He relaxes a lot more than he used to, which makes your father and me happy. We’ve urged him to retire and just relax, but he insists on working until the day he dies.”
“Talk about commitment…”
Mom chuckled. “He just loves this job and this house. But we told him he’s welcome to live here even if he stops working. A retirement package for him.”
“And he still said no?” I asked incredulously.
She shrugged. “Italian men are very stubborn. You know that.”
Bones popped into my head, and I couldn’t agree more. He was more stubborn than I was…and that was quite an accomplishment. “All too well.”
We continued preparing the dough before we started to scoop them onto the pan. We divided them evenly before we set them in the oven.
“It’s been really nice having you around the house again.” Mom took off her oven mitts and set them on the counter. “Just like how it used to be before you left for school.” She grabbed an open bottle of wine from the fridge and poured two glasses.
“Do you guys ever drink water?”
She drank from her glass before she set it down. “Do you?”
I grinned. “Touché, Mama.” I took a long drink, feeling the smooth flavor all the way down.
She pulled out a fresh baguette and some cheese, and we stood at the kitchen counter as we snacked and drank wine. The cookies would only be ten minutes, so it didn’t seem like enough time to get comfortable at the dining table. “I haven’t seen your father drink water since I first met him. He sticks to scotch. Wine is water to him.”
“If I have more than two glasses of wine, I’m already tipsy. Another glass and I would be drunk. No idea how he does it.”
“He has a very high tolerance, I guess.”
“Or maybe he’s drunk all the time,” I said with a laugh.
“If that’s the case, I’m very impressed. And I wonder what he’s like sober.”
“Can’t even imagine.”
She finished her wine and then refilled her glass. “So…” When she paused after the word, I knew something was coming. She didn’t start sentences like that unless the subject matter was delicate.
She was going to ask about the man in the painting.
“Your father is really good friends with Pierre, the owner of La Chalet in Milan.”
Not at all what I was expecting. “Oh?” I grabbed another piece of bread and smeared the cheese across the surface.
“And he mentioned he saw you there the other night…with a very handsome man.”
Shit. Why did he have to take me to that fancy place in Milan? Dinner at some random café would have been perfectly fine. I should have known I would be recognized. Any place that served Barsetti wine should have been off-limits. Now I felt my mother stare at me hard, her blue eyes calculating.
She sipped her wine but didn’t say anything more, letting the silence suffocate the conversation.
I had to say something, but I didn’t know what. I was usually quick with rebuttals, but when it came to Bones, I didn’t have the same strength I used to. He made me more confused than I’d ever felt in my life.
“He also mentioned he was a big guy…very muscular.”
Like in the painting. Shit. Why did my mother have to be so damn smart?
“Sweetheart, you know I never pry into your personal life. At least, I try not to. But I’ve never needed to because we’ve always talked about these sorts of things. From your first crush to your first kiss…we’ve always had a pretty open relationship. And I love that about us. And now…I feel like you’re keeping me in the dark on purpose.”
Because I was. I was keeping everyone in the dark. He was my dirty secret. But I could never come clean to my mother, not when it was a conflict of interest. Bones was an enemy to our family, and if I mentioned anything to her, the war would begin. If I kept my mouth shut and worked with Bones a little longer, maybe I could end it for good. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I drank from my glass and saw the hurt look stretch across my mother’s face. It made me feel like the worst daughter on the planet.
“Can I ask why?”
“I just…I don’t want to.” I couldn’t think of a better reason than the blunt truth.
“Because it seems like this is a pretty intense and deep relationship.”
