He turns around after hearing my voice. He eyes me then concentrates on the pan in front of him again. “Steve’s sick.” His voice is sharp and cold.
Damn Steve. He should have called Todd.
“Oh,” I respond, focusing on Brent, the line cook. “Do you have the order of scallops ready?” My fingers tap along the metal, waiting for my dish so I can escape this room.
“Amelia, I need to see you when your shift is over,” Davis says over the flame rising from the pan. He flips it with a flick of his wrist, and he tosses the towel over his shoulder.
My mouth opens to say no.
“No excuses,” he adds.
I roll my eyes at his audacity, acting like I’m a damn child after the stunt he pulled.
“I have to go somewhere. I don’t have time,” I give my excuse.
Brent hands me the plate of scallops.
“Hey, I have an idea. Since you’re so chummy with Annabelle Rhys, maybe you can get her to cover my showing.”
Davis turns with a scowl on his face. “Just give me five minutes.” His voice is nicer.
Brent’s head stays down. He’s not a moron; I’m sure he can figure out there’s more to our conversation.
“We’ll see. Depends on when we get out.” I leave with the scallops and my dignity.
Three hours later, I’m counting my drawer.
“Let’s go.” Davis is standing next to me.
I peer left and right, finding the wait staff cleaning tables and counting their own tips. “We can’t talk here.”
“I’ll see you in my office. Are you almost finished?” He’s curt.
I want to scream ’fuck off’ and throw my apron in his face. The problem is, I need this job—or should I say, my landlord needs me to have this job.
“Give me a few. I’m sure you can find someone to fill your time.”
He narrows his eyes.
“Amelia.” He sighs.
But I don’t look up, and he eventually stalks down the hall.
I finish counting my drawer, and I purposely sit around and chat for fifteen minutes.
As my heart beats against my chest, my knuckles rest on the door. Then, I knock quickly.
Davis says, “Come in,” before I can claim he didn’t hear the knock.
I open the door. His chef coat is off, and his T-shirt is clinging to his sweaty body from the hot kitchen. God, he looks good.
“What?” I stand in the doorway. There’s no way I can veer any closer.
“Shut the door.”
I inch my neck through the opening and allow my eyes to look around the room. “Are you sure you’re alone? I mean, I would hate to interrupt you.”
“Give me a damn break. Shut the door, and get your ass in here,” he demands.
I cock my head, but I do agree that there are a few things to discuss. One being that our relationship is over.
I move to shut the door, and Lucy passes me in the hallway. She cringes, as though I’m in trouble. Little does she know, it’s Davis who is in the hot seat.
“Listen, I don’t want some bullshit, like she was doing a story or she’s a good friend,” I say, starting the conversation.
He leans back in his chair. “I’m not going to lie.” He clasps his fingers together in front of him.
“That’s refreshing.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“I met you both within days of each other. As much I don’t want to say it, you both intrigued me.”
“Well, I’m not really into that whole threesome thing. It’s fine if you want to date her, but I’m not going to sit here and wait to be picked by Brooklyn’s Most Eligible fucking Bachelor. All I want to know is will this affect my job?” I stand firmly in place. I’m proud of myself for standing up to him. Go Amelia.
He stalks over to me. His hand reaches out toward my cheek, but I slap his hand.
“You can’t touch me.”
He leans on his desk, his hands wrapping around the edge of it.
“Amelia, that picture was taken weeks ago, well before I fell for you.”
“How do I know that?”
“Trust me.”
“Trust doesn’t come easy with me.”
“The magazine comes out twice a month. I did a segment with her the night before you started here. We went to dinner, and that was all.” He steps closer into my personal space. “I swear.”
I will my body to back up and move away, but it’s like my feet are stuck in cement.
His thumb brushes my cheek. My eyes close from his touch, and the pieces of my heart pull together from his admittance. My heart is moving faster than it should be.
His story could make sense. You hear all the time about how the press insinuates things with celebrities.
I open my eyes and fixate on his. “That’s strike one.”
He laughs. “And that’s where they stop.”
There’s a truthfulness in his eyes that even my cynical self can’t deny.
“Good, because you only get two.”
I place my hand on his chest, and it vibrates from his laughing.
“This isn’t baseball?” The smirk on his face signals he’s joking.
I shove him but he steps even closer, both of his hands cupping my cheeks.
“I promise, you have no worries. May I kiss you now?”
I nod and catch a small smile before he bends down and captures my lips with his. I hope this doesn’t end in disaster.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Amelia
“You bought the lame excuse?” Todd looks both ways to cross the street then steps off the curb.
I jog across the street to catch up. “I did.”
His head shakes. “Haven’t I taught you better?”
“Hey.” I grab his arm once we’re on the other side of the street. “Let me be happy right now.”
My eyes plead with him, and he nods.
“Fine, but you’ve been warned.” He spins on his heels and treads down the sidewalk.
Changing the subject to keep the peace, I say, “Why are you coming over to my parents’ house again?”
“Your grandma asked that I come over.”
“What?”
We descend the stairs to the subway. He grabs my hand and weaves us through the bustle of people coming up the stairs.
He pauses to answer my question until we’re on the platform, waiting for the next train. “She wants to try something with her sauce recipe.” He shrugs. “I’m not sure it can get any better, but she asked, and I’m not about to say no to your grandma.”
“So, I assume you’re staying for dinner. Todd . . .” I pause, wondering how I can tell him I invited Davis to my family dinner.
The train arrives, and Todd’s hand on the small of my back urges me to go first. With one seat left, Todd signals for me sit, and then he stands, holding the nearest pole. He distracts himself with his phone, his thumb brushing down the screen.
Sitting on the hard plastic bench, my hands clutch my purse. The distinct foul smell of the subway wafts through the air.
I think back to the first time I took Bryce on the train and how excited he was to do something he’d only seen in movies. He’d glamorized the day-to-day transportation most New Yorkers dreaded, but damn, if it didn’t live up to everything he’d thought. His smile was so wide the whole time. Groups of us would fight to take a taxi, but he still wanted to take the train. I guess, when you’re from rural Michigan, public transportation is exciting.
As always, the good memories bring the bad ones, like the times Bryce would hire private cars to come pick us up, showing how fast he’d changed from the boy who loved the subway to the man who demanded luxury.
Todd’s foot hits mine, and I look up to his concerned face.
His phone now tucked away, with his eyes, he’s silently asking me, What’s the matter?
I shake my head and shoot a small smile to appease him. I’ve bothered him enough with my problems. The horrible thing is, I was over Bryce
before Cam and I started—well, as much as you can be when your boyfriend of four years dies unexpectedly. . Maybe over isn’t the word, but I’d moved on.
Bryce didn’t stay lodged in my head for hours. I didn’t need alcohol to erase the memory of him. Cam was the first one who showed me I could love again, even though I’m not sure I even loved Cam now.
Todd’s foot nudges mine again and he tilts his head, signaling it’s our stop. I stand, and he waits for me to exit first.
“What were you thinking about?” He comes alongside me, and we scurry up the stairs.
“Nothing.” I don’t even look his way. Instead, I keep my eyes straight ahead.
He lets it go until we reach the street. Then, he grabs ahold of my arm and guides me to the side of a building. “Talk.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest and widens his stance, insinuating he’s getting comfortable until I speak.
I cast my eyes down and shuffle my feet. “I was just remembering Bryce.”
“Noodle.” He sighs.
This is exactly why I didn’t want him to know. He turns into Mr. Fix It.
“No.” I place my hand on his forearm. “It’s fine. It was one memory, nothing major. Let’s go.”
I circle away, and he doesn’t fight me, which surprises me. His glances get longer the closer we come to my parents’ house.
We’re two houses down when I stop. He peers over and patiently waits.
“I invited Davis tonight.”
He inhales and exhales a deep breath. “Okay.”
“You aren’t going to run away?”
“No, I’d rather face him after the shit he did to you.”
“He didn’t do anything. It was a misunderstanding. I told you.”
“Whatever. Just make sure we’re seated on opposite sides of the table.”
“Todd!”
He spins on his heels and stalks toward the house. I jog to catch up, and my hand is inches from his arm. My brother, Marco, approaches us from the other way, and I stop.
“Hey, guys!” he calls out.
He and Todd do that guy handshake and half-hug thing.
Marco embraces me in a warm hug.
“Hi, Marco.” I face defeat and wait for the fireworks that are sure to explode when Davis rings the doorbell.
* * *
Todd has been hidden away in the kitchen with Grandma. She shooed me and my mom out. The rest of us are jammed into the small family room. My four brothers, Marco’s girls, and my parents are all questioning what exactly is going on with Todd stashed away with my grandma in the kitchen.
“Todd doesn’t have some fetish for grandmas, does he?” Lucca elbows Bruno.
I narrow my eyes and disregard him. His joke doesn’t deserve a reply.
“What? No argument?” Lucca continues to bait me. “Maybe he prefers the younger version.”
I wish the heat traveling up my neck would stop with Lucca’s observation of Todd and me, but I should realize that nothing will stop his adolescent behavior.
“You know, like Mom!” He elbows Bruno again, but Bruno just rolls his eyes my way.
Unable to sit still, I linger over to the kitchen door.
Lucca is the jokester or want-to-be comedian of our family. We all know to disregard the majority of things that come out of his mouth. But that’s not to say that he doesn’t have us bending over in tears most of the time.
Finally, Grandma emerges from the kitchen, and I catch a glimpse of Todd through the doorway. Steam fills the small space, and Todd’s hovered over the stove.
“Keep on moving.” Grandma places her hand on my shoulder with a light push.
“Why is it such a secret?” I step forward as she demands.
“You’ll find out at dinner. Now, get going.”
The doorbell rings on my way back to the family room. My niece, Gianna, runs over and swings the door open.
“Gianna!” Marco screams.
I wave and tell him, “I’m right here,” which allows him to turn his attention back to the baseball game.
“Who are you?” she asks Davis, who’s standing in the doorway with bags of what I assume is wine.
“He’s a friend of mine.” I pat the girl’s head, and my fingers play with her long, dark hair.
She peers up to me with a puzzled look. “You have a lot of friends here today.”
“She does?” Davis asks.
I shake my head.
“I think Todd is more Grandma’s friend today.” I smile down to her.
She runs back into the family room.
I watch her go then turn back to Davis. “Come in.”
I wave my hand, and he steps through the doorway.
“Todd’s here?” he asks cautiously, like he has with our earlier conversations regarding my friendship with Todd.
“He is. I didn’t know he was coming, but I guess he and my grandma are cooking Sunday dinner.”
His face bears no smile, and suddenly, he’s fidgeting with the bags hanging from his hands.
“Here, let me take those from you.” I reach out to lighten his load and distract the conversation from lingering on Todd.
He happily hands me one bag. “Those are for dinner.” He raises one up higher. “These are gifts.”
“Aw, you shouldn’t have.” I place my hand over my heart.
He chuckles. “Sorry, beautiful. They’re bribes for your parents and grandma.”
We share a smile.
“Too nice.” I lean closer, cupping my hand over my mouth, as though I’m going to divulge the biggest secret. “You should’ve brought a keg for my brothers.”
“Nah. I’ve learned over the years, it’s the grandma and mother who count the most. If I can get their seals of approval, the dad and brothers will soon follow.”
“Have you now? How many grandmas have you had to win over?” I cock my eyebrow.
His hearty chuckle emerges again. “Not too many.” He winks and leans in closer. “Promise.”
I could clasp my heart and faint to the floor with the way his voice rapidly sends jolts of electricity through my body.
“Davis.” The distaste in Todd’s tone can’t be missed by anyone in the room, not even from Marco and Bruno.
They stand to attention right behind him, as though they’re his boys, ready to defend at all costs. If I had to guess, they’re there solely because of me. Todd’s uncertain disdain alerted everyone that a foreigner was on the grounds of Casa de Fiore.
“Todd.” Davis steps forward, outstretching his hand to the curious Todd. “You cook like a grandma?” he questions, the words printed across Todd’s apron.
Todd swings his arm around my grandma, pulling her small-framed body into his. “Today, I do.”
He looks down and winks to her, and a scowl forms across her face at Davis.
Great first impression to the one you need to impress the most, Davis.
“Mrs. Fiore, pleasure to meet you.” Davis places his hand out.
My grandma stares down to his outstretched hand, and my brothers snicker behind everyone.
I lean over to Davis, placing my hand on his shoulder. “Mrs. Mancini. She’s my mom’s mom,” I clarify.
His shoulder slumps in my hand. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Mancini. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
He never draws back his hand, and I notice Marco’s eyes are fixated on it hanging in the air for my grandma.
She places her small hand in his and finally releases her smile. “Pleasure. You’re the cook I see on television, right?”
Just like that, Davis has won over my grandma.
“That I am. Davis Morgan.”
“You should join us in the kitchen . . . sometime.” She turns back around and hooks her arm through Todd’s to have him escort her back into the kitchen.
He glances back to me, a smirk across his face. I’m fairly certain he’s loving the fact that Davis messed up.
“I’d love to, but I don’t want to step on any toes,” Davis calls out.
“Don’t worry. Todd and I already made the gravy,” Grandma says.
I watch my grandma and Todd disappear through the kitchen door, and my eyes swing back toward Davis.
He follows before being stopped in front of the wall of Fiore Army that I call my brothers.
Oh, shit. I quickly see my brothers side by side like a united front.
By the time I can add anything, they’re all shaking hands with him and praising how much they love his show.
Really?
“You made it through us. Now, it’s the old man.” Marco clasps him on the shoulder then returns to the family room.
The boys disperse into different directions, and Davis looks over to me with a cocky grin.
I point to my dad, who is relaxed on his specific spot on the couch. He has the remote in hand, and his feet are propped up on the ottoman. The kicker is neither of these men have any clue what they are in for. I knew my dad would eventually warm to Todd because our relationship was strictly platonic. Not to mention, Todd is a guy’s guy. He can talk endlessly about cars and sports. Davis, though . . . I don’t know him well enough to know what he would have in common with my dad.
“Dad.” I walk into the family room with my hand in Davis’s.
“Lia,” he says without looking up.
Lucca chuckles in the recliner, intently watching the show to see what’s going to happen.
“This is Davis,” I announce.
My dad looks over from the corner of his eye. He must realize the situation because then his head snaps to us. His feet fly off the ottoman, and he’s standing faster than I thought he could move.
“Davis?” he questions.
Lucca is bent over, laughing, holding his stomach.
“Lucca, out.” My dad points to the doorway, and Lucca covers his mouth while leaving.
“Hello, Mr. Fiore.”
Again, Davis extends his hand, and again, a family member analyzes it for more than a second. Finally, my dad shakes it.
“Nice to meet you.”
Usually, my dad always immediately tells people to call him by his first name, but obviously, Davis has been placed in a different category.
“You, too. I wish I had known you were coming.” My dad’s eyes glance my way. “We’re used to Amelia’s strays, but you appear to be much more to her.” He looks down at our joined hands and then up to me.
Seeing You Page 13
