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“I insisted,” Shelby said. “And I know she loves Honor’s tiramisu.”
They ended up with the tiramisu, and a half-dozen assorted cupcakes loaded with two inches of buttercream. He eyed the mountain of sugar as he carried the bakery boxes out to his truck. “That’s insane.”
“Insanely good,” she countered. “Have you had one of her cupcakes before?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“They’re the best. Seriously.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He handed over the boxes once she was in her seat. “You can get a cavity just looking at one of those things.”
“It’s worth it,” she declared.
Dev shook his head, until he remembered Asher’s wife had baked Loyal and Roxanna’s wedding cake and yeah, it had been fucking amazing. He’d barely resisted a second piece.
When they reached his parents’ house, he knocked first, but didn’t wait for them to come to the door before walking in with a loud, “Hello!”
In the next instant, the savory scent of onion and garlic and fresh bread filled his senses. He gave a low groan while taking Shelby’s coat to hang with his on the coat tree tucked in the entranceway corner.
“Wow, it smells amazing in here,” she said.
“Empanadas,” he said with
reverence. “I haven’t had them in ages.”
“I made them just for you, mijo.”
Dev turned around with a smile. “Mamá.”
He leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek and a hug. When she squeezed hard and held on a few extra moments, he was reminded of Shelby’s comment the other night about how his mom worried about him and Reyes—and likely Solana, too. A twinge of guilt had him tightening his hold for a brief moment, too. They hadn’t made it easy on her or his dad with their profession choices, had they?
Finally his mom let go, and moved to give Shelby a hug. There was a quick exchange of whispers with their smiles, but he chose to ignore it when he heard his mom’s heartfelt, “Thank you.” He could hardly complain about a little scheming when it got him homemade empanadas and made them both happy.
His dad offered beer or sangria when they all joined him in the kitchen. Shelby took the sangria, but Dev declined. No alcohol for him until the job was done. Instead, he moved to the cupboard to grab a glass for water while his parents returned to their in-tandem cooking. He’d grown up watching them fairly dance together in the kitchen. And then there were the times they literally danced while the sauce simmered.
“Is Rey coming, too?” he asked.
“No.” His mom reached up to brush away a dark strand of hair that had escaped the bun at the nape of her neck, her brow furrowed. “He made up some excuse about working on his taxes.”
He heard the hurt in her voice, underscored by concern. When he glanced at Shelby leaning against the counter with her glass in hand, she gave him an I told you look. He turned back to see his dad graze his mom’s arm with his knuckles. She leaned into the gesture as if needing the comfort of his touch.
Dev set his water down and moved up on the other side of his mom. “You don’t have to worry, Mamá. Rey’s working on things, same as me.”
She huffed out a breath and twisted to face him, knife in hand. “Of course I worry, Devante. Your father and I both do when you and Reyes hold yourselves at arm’s length. Neither of you have been here for family dinner since Christmas, and you’re only here tonight because of Shelby.”
He shot her another glance, then hung his head with a rough sigh. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I’ve stayed away because it’s not always easy to put on a positive front.”
“You don’t have to put up a front with us,” his mom argued.
“I didn’t want you guys to worry.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Yeah, so I’ve been told.”
His mom looked at Shelby, who gave her a quick smile.
When she turned her hopeful expression back up to him, he nodded confirmation before shifting his gaze between her and his dad. “I really am working on things, I promise. You know my physical therapy is going well, and I also talk to a therapist once a week. I started just before Christmas, and things are going good.”
