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CHAPTER TWELVE
DOMINIC
At a quarter after nine the last guests straggled out, and I switched the front door sign to “Closed.” The evening had been busy but successful, and it was time to thank the people who helped make it happen. Gio always had the softer touch when it came to people skills, but I could make the effort when I had to. In the seconds before I stood in front of the staff and started talking, I just kept hearing my brother’s voice in my head, saying, “Don’t be a dick, don’t be a dick.”
“Excellent job, everyone,” I said, meaning it. “Really, amazing night all around. Now clean up and go home. Some of you will be at Espo 1 tomorrow for a final training shift. Everyone else, I’ll see you here in two days for the grand opening. If you have any questions about anything, feel free to reach out.” I paused and looked at the collection of expectant faces. “Honestly, I couldn’t be happier with this team. I thank you and I applaud you.”
For a few seconds I was the only one clapping, but Melanie quickly joined in, and the rest of the staff followed. Relieved smiles spread across the staff, and a few approached me for a handshake. Melanie wasn’t one of them. She returned to the table where my grandmother had sat all evening, observing everything with bright, shining eyes. It was past the time she usually turned in for the night, and for the last two hours, I’d been trying to get her to agree to go home. But my grandmother’s stubborn streak still burned strong, and she insisted on staying until the end.
I saw Melanie lean across the table and whisper something to Donna that made her throw her head back in laughter—the way she used to do when she was younger. In my early memories Donna Esposito was the quintessential hostess, forever occupying her post near the entrance of the old Esposito’s and offering an animated greeting to all who entered. My grandfather had been much quieter, always busying himself in the kitchen and emerging only at the insistence of his sociable wife. She used to know how to talk to anyone; the grumpiest old bastard didn’t stand a chance when confronted by Donna Esposito’s charm. But lately, as age clouded the edges of her mind, she’d become more wary of strangers. Her memory for names and faces wasn’t what it used to be. I was surprised by the fact that she’d taken to Melanie immediately. Vaguely, I remembered mentioning her, but I didn’t think I’d said anything too outrageous. Then again, she might have had Melanie confused with someone she’d met decades ago. She’d said something odd earlier, something about Melanie being a member of the family.
“We were just talking about little Leah,” Melanie said when I approached. “Tara texted me. The doctor diagnosed the baby with an ear infection, poor thing. But she’s already had her first dose of antibiotics, and the fever’s under control.”
“I know. Gio called me.” I checked my watch. “Hey, Donna, we should really get you home.”
My grandmother primly wiped her eyeglasses with a clean napkin. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “It’s pretty late for this old-timer.”
I smiled. “You’ll never be an old-timer. So what did you think of the restaurant? Have we done the Esposito name proud?”
Donna settled her glasses back on her face and beamed. “It’s like coming home, Dominic. You boys have really worked a miracle here.” Her smile became melancholy. “I almost feel like if I stepped back into that kitchen, your Grandpa Leo would be back there rolling out pies and bellowing at Frankie to feed the oven.”
The mention of Uncle Frank, my mother’s only brother, brought an involuntary surge of loathing in me. He’d always been a weasel. When I was a kid, I once saw him empty the tip jar into his pocket. When he saw me looking, he tried to buy my silence with a wink and a greasy quarter. I didn’t take the quarter, but I didn’t rat him out either. Even though I’d already figured out that Frank was a shithead, I knew my grandparents worshipped him. He was their only son, the presumptive heir to their life’s work. There was no way to guess that someday my lousy uncle and his son would bring down the whole house of cards.
Of course no matter what my uncle and cousin had done, nothing excused my behavior when I found out the restaurant was going down the tubes. Only years later did I understand that I was angrier at myself than anyone else. My grandfather’s death had set off a chain reaction, and I never stopped feeling like that was my fault.
As I helped Donna out of her seat, I noticed Melanie was watching me.
“You mind sticking around for a little while longer?” I asked her.
“Not at all,” she said. I could see she was pleased by the request. She looked fresh and casual tonight, hardly a trace of makeup. She’d had her hair tied up while she was working the dining room, but now it was loose and tousled. I could easily imagine rolling over in bed and seeing her look exactly like that. Only my fantasy included fewer clothes.
I gestured to the kitchen. “Go ahead and usher everyone out of here in half an hour and lock up. I’ll be back later and I’ll finish the cleanup.”
Melanie stood up and started collecting dirty plates from tables. “I’ll stay at least until you get back.”
“No,” I said, a little too forcefully. “Don’t do that.” She looked startled, so I smoothed the comment over. “You’ve been working so hard to make all this happen. It’ll make me feel less guilty if you get out of here at a reasonable hour.”
“But I really don’t mind staying, Dominic,” she said, but I cut her off with a wave of my hand.
“No need,” I said. “Good night, Melanie.”
I didn’t want to see Melanie’s reaction. I didn’t want to think about how right it seemed to have her in my world or how much more I wished I could share with her. The day I met this girl I knew I wanted to back her into a wall, wrap her legs around my waist, and get sweaty. But I hadn’t. I wouldn’t. I’d made promises long before I met Melanie. Promises to my brother, promises to myself. I couldn’t allow anything to interfere with what Gio and I had been working toward for so long. Every time I turned on the kitchen lights at the start of the day, I thought of my grandfather working endless hours in the old restaurant. He’d given everything he had for the family. I hadn’t appreciated that when I was young. I appreciated it now. If I started something with Melanie, I’d inevitably fuck it up somehow. So for her sake—and for mine and for Gio’s and for the future of Esposito’s—I could keep ignoring the way my heart jumped every time I saw her sitting behind an absurdly large desk when I stormed into her office to carry on about something that wasn’t even important. I could pretend it was no big deal that she kindly tended to my eighty-two-year-old grandmother and had even paused in all her busy tasks to escort Donna to the restroom earlier without thinking twice. Yes, I could disregard every natural instinct I had where Melanie Cruz was concerned.
“Hey, Dominic,” Melanie called.
I held the door open for Donna and glanced back. The servers were clearing the tables and laughter rang out from the kitchen. Melanie was standing right where I’d left her.
“Did you get to talk to the reporter at all?” she asked.
“The reporter showed up?”
Melanie nodded. “Yeah. I talked to her and so did Gio, but I figured she’d want a word with you too.”
“Apparently not.” I shrugged.
Melanie was frowning, but I didn’t know if that was because of me or because of the reporter. In any case, I had to get Donna home, so I turned around and escorted my grandmother to my parked truck.
As soon as I walked into Sonoran Acres, a nurse in purple scrubs marched over and gave me the stink eye.
