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“He’s not a bad fisherman, but he looks off today.” I cock my head to the side, studying him.
“We went to The Laura Inn last night and he had one too many whiskey shots.” My sister snickers. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets seasick.”
Mom and Dad are setting up a small canopy tent with lawn chairs beneath it, and I step in to take them out of my mom’s hands.
“Maybe if I just run quick and make a few pizzas. Maybe a dozen. We could even give them away for free.” Dad looks like he’s bargaining with Mom.
“Stop it, we’re relaxing today.” She laces her hand in his like I’ve seen her do a million times.
Usually, we rent a truck or a stand and sell during this festival, but this year Liam decided to only do the jars of our sauce, so I’m off the hook to help. But, per usual, Dad isn’t at peace unless he’s tinkering in the kitchen or feeding hordes of people. Sitting in a lawn chair spectating is probably the last thing he wants to do.
“Only because I love you,” he grumbles, holding the chair out for her as she sits.
“Think of it as a trial for retirement. When these people give us grandkids, and we can sit and hold babies while they worry about the business.” Mom grins like this is her ultimate goal.
“Retire! You been drinking wine this early, Leona?” Dad’s eyes are nearly popping out of his head.
Liam, who rarely ever smiles, is cracking up. “Mom, Dad will retire when he literally croaks in front of the pizza oven.”
“Liam Anthony!” She swats my brother with the sleeve of her raincoat. “Don’t even speak of such things. And he will retire because he loves me more than the pizzeria. I want to travel, I want to have a life outside of the place I have given decades to. You’ll see. It just depends on which one of you wants to take it over.”
We look at one another wearily but also with a glint of competition. From a business perspective, I would probably be the front-runner. I know how to keep it profitable, how many people to keep on staff, etc. Alana is also a good choice, but my parents are traditional, and they put the most pressure on her to get married and have a family. Liam wants no part of solely owning the restaurant, but if the farm comes with it, he’ll throw his hat in the ring.
Then there is Evan, who is also an obvious choice because one day he’ll run the menu, but that’s if he even wants it. If he even comes home.
“You really want to sell?” Alana presses because this is the first time my mom has said it out loud in front of everyone.
“Of course she does. But then she’ll come back when her hands are old and knobby like mine, because she can’t stand to be away from it.” Nonna pushes her way into the circle, and I rush to unfold a chair so she can sit.
“Maybe. But first I want the fantasy retirement.” Mom hugs her mother to her as they scoot their chairs close to one another.
With her mom sitting on one side of her and her husband on the other, Mom blabs on about traveling to Italy, taking long walks through town, and buying concert tickets whenever she pleases. It makes that part of my heart ache, the one that feels like a giant hole I always seem to be trying to fill. Two women haven’t fit there, haven’t stemmed the leak, and I can’t trust myself to think I’ve found one that has.
Even though I feel like I left all my joy back in Cassandra’s bed.
Sleeping with her had been …goddamn. Magical. Fucking unreal. The most intense and erotic thing I’ve ever done. But more than that, there was this connection I’d never felt with any other woman. Even the two I was going to marry.
It was like she’d sewn up that aching hole after planting herself there; the repetitive thump of loneliness is gone. What isn’t gone is this driving urge to see her, every second of the day, and I know that is dangerous.
This is how those first jitter anticipation stages always feel. Craving, intense longing, the need to be naked with that person every second. To talk for hours and hear everything that makes them tick.
Cassandra admitting that she isn’t happy in her life brought me sick relief. Because she then fessed up about Hope Crest making her feel a sense of comfort. That selfish bastard inside me wanted to make it all about him, will her to stay here and give up that fake city so we could make a real go at things.
But, like always, I’m getting way too ahead of myself.
In the three days since I’ve seen her, I’ve checked in via text to make sure she’s okay. Getting her number had been a back-and-forth of witty banter as she lay in her bed, half-dressed with her hair all sex-mussed. Just thinking about it makes me hard, and isn’t that awkward as I’m standing in a circle of my family members.
“Hey, you want to get some street corn?” My sister points to one of the food trucks parked in the municipal parking lot.
“Yeah, hopefully they have that sweet and sour flavor this year.” My stomach grumbles just thinking about it.
I also don’t mind walking this way because I get a glimpse of Cassandra standing in line at the nachos truck. My heart speeds up as it realizes she’s here, black jeans molded to her perfect ass that I had in my palms just days ago. I’m a feral animal when it comes to this woman, so much so that I have an intrusive thought of stalking up to her and claiming her mouth in front of all these people.
I love that she’s come down to the festival, and not hiding out from the town or the people who broke into her house.
When our eyes collide, she smirks, like we both have a sexy secret none of the hundreds of people flooding downtown know. Well, because we do.
“Hey.” She walks up to us a few minutes later, nachos dish in hand, confident as hell and gorgeous as ever.
