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“Good morning, Mr. Santarossa!” I say in my most energetic voice. “Dante surprised us by showing up early. Isn’t that nice?”
“If you say so,” he grumbles.
“Good to see you too,” Dante scoffs, turning to face the coffee maker. He busies himself with the task, focusing far too long on measuring out the grounds.
“I didn’t ask you to come,” Raul mutters.
“Okay!” I exclaim, clapping my hands. “Who’s ready for breakfast? Yours is on the table,” I tell my client. “And Dante and I will have cereal.”
“Excuse me?” Dante chimes in. “Cereal? Like… Raisin Bran?” His nose scrunches up, and the look of horror on his face is priceless. You would’ve thought I offered him a dirty diaper.
“No, like Fruity Pebbles. I’m not a monster.”
Raul chuckles while Dante scowls.
“I’ll pass.”
“Don’t be ungrateful, son,” Raul snaps. “Cambria works her ass off around here. If she feeds you cereal, you better take it and thank her.”
“I can handle myself, Mr. Santarossa,” I interrupt. “Thank you for defending me, but I’ll deal with Dante. He can go hungry if he doesn’t want my sugary cereal.”
This seems to satisfy Raul, and he takes a few bites of oatmeal.
Dante is in the kitchen corner, as far as possible from his father without leaving the room. Raul has his back facing his son, and it’s painfully obvious these two have zero social grace, especially when it comes to each other.
“I’ve got the coffee covered,” I tell Dante. “You go sit down at the table.”
“Thought you gave me an order, boss,” he grunts.
“And now I’m giving you a new one.”
Dante opens his mouth to fight me, but I bump him out of the way with my hip. He stares at me, mouth half agape, while I simply wink and shoo him on his way. After a few beats of awkward silence, I roll my eyes and fill up the coffee cups, joining the two stubborn men at the table.
“How was your flight, Dante?” I ask since Raul won’t.
“Fine.”
I give Raul a look and lightly elbow him. He frowns and moves his arm away from me like a little kid.
“And how is work going for you?” I continue.
“Same as it always is.”
Oh my god, this is like pulling teeth. Actually, I’d rather pull teeth. At least that’s a pretty straightforward task. Navigating this conversation, however, is a different story.
“Your father recently started–”
Dante’s phone rings and he jumps to grab it out of his pocket. Staring at the screen, a look of relief washes over him. “I have to take this,” he informs us as he stands from his seat.
“Of course, you do,” Raul grunts. “Go ahead. They need you more than I do.”
“That’s rich coming from a man who depends on me for his home and expensive medical treatments.”
“We all know you’re not doing it out of love for me,” Raul snaps.
“Now, Mr. Santarossa,” I butt in.
“That might be the one thing we agree on, old man.”
