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“Thank you, Tim.” My mother smiled.
He shoved another big bite into his mouth. “Can I get a bigger slice of this and a glass of milk?” he asked the baker responsible for the delicious masterpieces spread before us.
I laughed. “Maybe we can have milk in the fountain instead of champagne.”
My mom snorted and stabbed her fork into the carrot cake. “Well, we can’t have plain vanilla.”
I took a bite of the banana cake and smiled. “I want the banana.”
My mom loaded a bite on her fork and frowned. “Really? The carrot is much better.”
“Mom, please. Can we not do this again? I would like the banana cake. Marco and I have a thing about bananas.”
“Fine. Get what you want. You do anyway. If Marco finds out I ordered the carrot, he’ll just get BartolobuddyValastro to pop in and bake you a cake.” She wiped her mouth and set her napkin to the side. “What is your fiancé doing today?”
“He’s out at the estate with Emilio. The security system is being installed.”
“I hate that you’ll be so far away. I’m sure he could get the Elliot’s to sell on the other side of the lake. He would have to sweeten the deal, but since he’s increased the value of the lake by a few million, I don’t see why it would be an issue.”
I sighed. It was twenty miles. It could have been an ocean and a continent away.
“Ready?” I asked. “I want to head back to the hotel.”
“Can I get the cake to go?” Tim hollered to the back of the bakery as he stood and buttoned his sportscoat.
A moment later, the baker handed him the cake in a plastic to-go container and a soda cup filled with milk. “Thank you for the sweet dinner.”
“We’ll take the banana,” my mom said. “I’ll call you with the details on how I want it decorated.”
I rolled my eyes. She could have this one.
A half an hour later, we were at the house. Mom had disappeared upstairs, and Tim was in the office with Santi. Orlando’s laugh erupted from the room. Maybe he’d found some time to spend with Deidre.
With my booted hobble, I went upstairs, knocked softly on Dee’s door, and waited. When she didn’t answer, I knocked harder. The little shit probably had her earbuds in. I cracked open the door.
“Hi,” I said, but she still didn’t look up from her computer. Her fingers furiously tapped across the keyboard. She smiled at the screen.
At least, she was in a good mood. I fully opened the door, her gaze snapped up, and the smile fell from her face.
“What?”
“Really? How long are you going to punish me for not taking you to the hotel?” I shut the door, limped over to her bed, and crashed onto the end like she’d done a thousand times in my room. “Yes, I selfishly wanted to spend the first night alone with Marco.”
“Whatever.” She went back to typing.
“Be pissed.” I flopped to my back on the bed. “But you should know you’re coming off like a spoiled princess. It’s not appealing.”
“Worked for you with Marco.”
I choked on a laugh. “I was supposed to be married two years ago.”
“He’s here now, and you ditch me to fuck him.”
“Yeah, well, that part is better than I expected, but I haven’t been the only one running to him. He’d still rush to Giada or Francesca if either got a sliver in their finger.”
She spun in her chair. “Who are Giada and Francesca?”
“I have no idea, but I hope they stay in Italy because I know he’s fucked them both.” I leaned up, rolled to my side, and braced on an elbow. “I’m sorry, Dee.”
