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His eyes turned rheumy. “When your mother became ill…” He coughed. Started over. “When your mother became ill, I was not the husband she needed. The thought of losing her almost destroyed me but you, Liliana, you were so strong. Managing everything, keeping us all on schedule for your mother’s doctor appointments, taking over at the restaurant. I could not—we could not—have survived these last two years without you. I do not mean to be hard but I have been so afraid of how my life would look if neither of you were here.”
In the pause, he took a deep breath. “I know the restaurant has suffered while I have been so weak. But the kitchen, it is where I feel the strongest, where I feel like myself. And to realize I have failed there, too, shames me. La cucina Italiana is my life and I couldn’t even win against Jack without cheating.”
He sighed so wearily that her heart listed.
“Dad, you haven’t failed. All our lives you’ve provided for us. Mom is better. That woman is not going anywhere and you’re going to have to get on board with that.” She rubbed his strong arm, the one that had never failed to comfort her as a child. “You are a great, great chef. The best. The problem is not the food, it’s just in the details. There’s so much more we could be doing. An online take-out menu, a food truck, drink and meal specials, small improvements that won’t change the fundamentals of who we are but would keep us competitive.”
Head dipped, he placed his hands on the sink and took a moment. “Liliana, as well as failing as a husband, I have failed you as a father. I wanted you to always be here, working by my side, but for a while now, I’ve known you were meant for better things. You are far too beautiful and talented to be stuck in the restaurant.”
Her numbing heart sparked, and the pain of the last week lessened by the faintest degree. Now would be the time to lay it all out, dissect every hurt, revisit every sharp comment, demand satisfaction. Being held in her father’s unconditional grip was enough, his acknowledgment of her worth the satisfaction she needed.
“What do you want to do?” he asked, and she gulped because it was the first time he had ever asked.
“Make sure everyone knows how amazing the head chef at DeLuca’s in Wicker Park is and then—” She inhaled deeply. “Graduate school, Dad. I don’t know when or where or how I’ll pay for it, but I’m going to do it. I have to. I’ll always be your daughter. Wherever I am, my heart will be here with you.” She had a life to plan. A life without Jack, but she could make it the life she dreamed of before she met him. Their time together had crystallized the realization that she deserved good things.
“I think your heart is somewhere else, Liliana.” He considered her carefully. “He asked me to collaborate with him on a cookbook.”
“Jack?”
He gave the barest shrug, the embodiment of Continental nonchalance. “Do you think he meant it or was he doing it to for other reasons?”
She supposed it was possible, but… “He meant it, Dad. He really admires you. And he’s too much of a perfectionist to risk attaching his name to something he doesn’t believe in. Kind of like you.” A wisp of hope blossomed in her chest. “You should do it. The world should have a chance to cook your fabulous gnocchi.”
Her father’s mouth turned up in a hint of a grin. Chefs were an egotistical bunch and Jack Kilroy, crafty and not a little egotistical himself, knew that better than anyone.
“Tell me more about your ideas,” Tony said.
An hour later, a blueprint for survival was in place: Tad would draw up a stock inventory and control plan, Lili would get to grips with staffing and decor, her father would tackle the menu, and Marco would work on publicity. So much to do before the premiere of Jack of All Trades but keeping busy would keep her idle heart from veering into devil territory.
The weight was lifting slowly from Lili’s shoulders though she wasn’t sure she was ready to let it go. A burden can ground you just as much as it can weigh you down.
Sometimes, it’s the only thing stopping you from flying away.
Forty
There was no answer to his knock at the DeLuca’s brownstone and for a moment, Jack was at a loss for what to do next. The last couple of weeks had seen a distinct deterioration in his mental faculties. He would walk into the fridge in his new kitchen and forget what he needed. He would scroll through his phone contacts without a clue whom he had planned to call. Some weird form of dementia had ravaged his brain. Break-up senility.
The sweet murmur of voices carried on the warm air and he followed it through the side path to the back of the house. On the deck, his eyes fell on Lili’s bare, golden legs stretched out in front of her and his heart wrenched a response. Damn, he hadn’t been expecting that. As he rounded the railing, Jules spotted him.
“Hey, Jack.”
“Hi, Jules.”
He felt like he was walking through treacle, every step a dead-weight. Nothing dead about his heart, unfortunately. It bounded about his chest like an excited puppy that had just spotted his owner. Fan-freaking-tastic.
The light from the twinkling tree lights cast an unearthly glow over Lili’s face, highlighting her discomfort. She pulled up to a stand and carefully backed away toward the house, as though worried he might force her into conversation.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” she murmured, barely audible above the twang of the screen door.
He sat on the patio sofa and let his hands stray to the warmth of the fabric where Lili had sat. Her lingering vanilla fragrance joined with the herbal scents from the garden, an olfactory soothe that complimented this quiet haven in the middle of the city. In London and New York, there was no escaping the noise but Chicago, a city of neighborhoods offered pockets of peace for anyone who searched for it. No wonder his sister liked it here.
“Thought you were in Miami,” she said, breaking the silence he had been enjoying.
“I was. Now, I’m here.” He settled back with an exhale and let his eyelids shutter closed. The idea of falling asleep under the stars appealed so much he opened his eyes before the wish came true. “At least I will be off and on for the next few of weeks until the restaurant opens.
Then I’m back to New York.” And she would be tucked away in London, if he had his druthers.
She didn’t react. Just sat there with her hands clasped in her lap like they weren’t talking about her future. He didn’t know how to bridge the yawning emotional distance between them. The whispering night breeze and the rest should have conspired to make this the perfect spot for him to have a calm, reasoned conversation about her situation. Of course, she chose to deflect and talk about his situation.
