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She took a deep breath. “It changed him. You’d think he’d be overjoyed, see every day as precious. Don’t get me wrong, he was always difficult before. Bossy, traditional, real old-school Italian, you know, just like the movies, but now he’s even harder. He acts like we’ve only been given a reprieve, like the axe could fall any second.” Her gaze panned over the restaurant, visualizing something beyond the space. “He can’t see what a gift it is to have her with us still.”
His chest tightened to the point of discomfort. He so wanted to touch her, but any overture might be taken the wrong way. And frankly, he wasn’t sure he could trust his body not to want to go there if he laid a finger on her. He was such a dick.
“My mother died when I was twelve and my sister was just two,” he said, drawing a jerky uplift of her chin. “My stepdad didn’t handle it so well.” That was a complete understatement.
His mother’s death from cancer had sent his stepfather into a spiral of neglect—of himself, his stepson, and his daughter, before he died a couple of years later with a bottle in his hand.
Liquid pain filled her eyes and she curled those long fingers around his palm. His whole body sighed into her hand’s embrace.
“That must have been awful for you.”
It had been hell but luckily for Jack, his own surly teenage years had kicked in and created other distractions.
“And for your sister. She was so young. What about your biological father?”
“He wasn’t around. I met him once but it didn’t go so well.”
“What happened?”
“He wasn’t interested.” The father-son reunion had been a bitter disappointment, a foregone conclusion when reality overtakes hope. He shook off that dark memory and focused on a happier time. The happiest of times. “Not long after my mother died, I found cooking. Or rather it found me.”
Her hand squeezed tighter, so he talked, knowing she liked the sound of his voice.
Women dug the accent, for sure.
“I acted out, got into trouble. Fights, stealing, kids’ stuff. I ended up in a program for juvenile delinquents that taught me to cook. Apprenticeship in Paris at eighteen, my first restaurant at twenty-three, my first restaurant failure at twenty-four—” That netted him a wry smile. “More success, British TV. I opened Thyme on 47th, conquered America, and here we are.”
“Wow, just like the Beatles. The American dream fulfilled. And it’s about to get better with your new show.”
He wouldn’t have put it in quite those terms but he could see why she would think that.
Money and fame equated to better for most people.
“Nice switch,” he said. “We started out talking about you and I managed to make it all about me.”
“One of my superpowers.”
A throwaway comment, but he suspected there was a lot of truth in there. Putting other people first was how she operated. And last night, she had taken a chance on him and he’d turned her down for his own self-flagellating reasons. Yep, he was a dick squared.
“What about your fairytale ending? Your mom’s better so you can kick start all your grad school plans again.” The thought of Lili living in the same city as him sent an unreasonable thrill through him. Curiously, it wasn’t sexual, or not only sexual.
She released his hand and his stomach felt weirdly hollow despite being stuffed with pasta and bread.
“I have responsibilities here. Managing this place.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” he prompted.
“It’s not so bad. The killer is the early morning deliveries. I’m so not a morning person.”
His head shot up so fast he almost got whiplash. “You handle the deliveries?” Most chefs or their sous took care of that. He had a team of people who took care of it.
“Dad’s first mate, Emilio, lives in the suburbs, so it’s difficult for him to make it in that early. We used to split it when I lived at home, but since I moved to the apartment upstairs a couple of months ago, I do it.” There was a noticeable bite in her tone. The bonds of familial obligation had to chafe some time.
“What else do you do?”
“Scheduling, payroll, ordering, the books.” She smiled. “The usual.”
Despite the brevity of their acquaintance, he recognized a forced smile when he saw one. “That’s a lot for one person.” All this and caring for her mother. Admiration got all mixed up with his libido, which was pretty much how one defined a crush.
