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“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” I reach over the table and place my palm over hers before she shreds the napkin in half.
Her hand trembles under mine, and I squeeze it lightly. “If ever you want to talk, not psychiatrist to patient but just Dixon and Madison, I’m here, okay?” I say, wanting her to know that I’ll never analyze her, or make her feel like a case study.
“Thank you, Dixon,” she says with a small sniff, wiping away a tear.
Concetta comes over with our coffees, and I reluctantly release Madison’s hand.
“Grazie,” I say, reaching into my pocket for my wallet to pay, but she waves me off.
“Non insultarmi, bambino,” she firmly states, and I smirk, as I know better than to fight with a Sicilian.
“Thank you. If you need me for anything, you know where to find me,” I say, and she nods.
“You just keep coming back to visit and bring theprincipessawith you, too,” she says, looking at Madison, who blushes.
“Deal,” I reply, and she bends forward, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
As she shuffles off to serve a customer, Madison asks, “How do you know her? It seems you’ve known one another for a while.”
“I’ve known Concetta since I moved to Manhattan. This cafe was mine, Hunter, and Finch’s savior throughout college.Without her double espressos, I dare say I would have slept through half of my exams.”
Madison laughs as she adds sugar to her coffee. “Who are Hunter and Finch?”
“They’re my friends. I’ve known them my whole life, and we moved to New York together for college,” I explain. “Finch is happily married to his high school sweetheart, Heidi. They’ve just had a baby girl.”
“And Hunter?” she asks, listening intently.
“Hunter is an acquired taste,” I tease, sipping my coffee.
“Well, they both sound awesome.”
“They really are,” I reply, thinking about how awesome those bastards are. “So what about you?”
“What about me?” she counters quickly, and I notice her hand shaking slightly as she stirs her coffee.
“I know about Mary,” I explain. “But what about your family? You mentioned you and your mom were close.”
“We are,” she replies with a small smile.
I know her family, just like mine, seem to be a touchy subject for her, but I can’t help myself as I ask. “And you said you had a brother?” I say, remembering her losing her footing when she mentioned him.
Madison nods, the discomfort obvious in her tense face. As much as I want to know why she’s suddenly clammed up, I don’t want to know that badly and ruin our day.
“I always wanted a brother,” I share, and see Madison’s shoulders instantly depress in relief.
“Yeah?”
I nod with a smile.
“Why?”
“So I could blame him for breaking my mother’s crystal vase.”
She bursts into laughter.
However, thinking about my current predicament, I can’t help but confess, “And it would make circumstances a lot easier to deal with.”
“What circumstances?” she innocently queries.
