SEAN: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 3)

by Glenna Sinclair

  I could tell Joanne—Joey—was annoyed, but she didn’t say anything. She just let go of my hand and made her way back to the couch, curling up in a corner of it with the wine glass back in her hands.

  I would have much rather gone back to the couch with her. But the doorbell was already ringing. I could have ignored it, but then I remembered that Sara had a key.

  “Hey,” I said, running my fingers through my hair as I opened the door. “You’re out late.”

  “Yeah, sorry,” she said. “I meant to come this afternoon, but the baby took a late nap. And you know how I am about party planning, always waiting to the last minute for everything.”

  “Party?”

  “That luncheon I’m throwing on Wednesday? I need the silver punch bowl your mother gave you.”

  “It’s in the bar.” I gestured with a thumb over my shoulder, indicating the sitting room where I’d left Joanne.

  Sara came into the house and waited for me to close the door before following me into the sitting room.

  “This party is pushing me to my limits,” she was saying as we stepped into the sitting room. But then the words died on her lips as she spotted Joanne—Joey…I’ll never get used to calling her that!—sitting on the couch, her eyes closed as she waited.

  “I’m sorry,” Sara suddenly said. “I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.”

  “It’s just Joey,” I said, mentally patting myself on the back for getting it right.

  I went over to the bar and dug the silver punch bowl out. When I stood again, Sara was staring at Joey, and Joey was watching her, but neither was saying anything. The tension was pretty intense. I’d never noticed tension between the two of them before. I thought they liked each other, but this felt…odd.

  “Here it is,” I said, gesturing with the bowl.

  “Great. Thanks,” Sara said, coming over to take it from me. “You’re a lifesaver, as usual.”

  “What’s one more time in such a long list of moments?”

  Sara laughed, slapping my arm lightly. “I saved your life a few times, too, you know.”

  “Yeah? When?”

  “When your parents nearly caught you sneaking into the house that one summer night? I made a noise in the bushes so that they wouldn’t go around the side of the house. Can you imagine how that would have gone? Your mom in that fancy dress?”

  I laughed. I could remember that night. I was supposed to be grounded—at sixteen, it seemed like I was grounded every other week—but I snuck out to go to a party with Sara. And my parents were just coming home from a party of their own when we got back. I made some sound—I think something broke free of the side of the house while I was climbing the trellis—and Sara made a noise in the bushes so that my father wouldn’t go around to investigate.

  “Okay, I’ll give you that one.”

  “You should. Because if your parents had caught you, you would have been grounded for life.”

  “Can you see that? I’d still be locked in that bedroom with all my video games.”

  “Some punishment. My parents would have taken that stuff away. If I’d had any.”

  Laughter was dancing in Sara’s eyes. It was the first time in months I’d seen that much pleasure in her eyes. But then it disappeared when Joey moved up behind me and set her hand lightly on my arm.

  “Sounds like the two of you have known each other a long time.”

  Sara’s eyes narrowed as she focused on Joey. But it was only for an instant, quick enough that I could actually make myself believe it had never been there.

  “We grew up together,” she said with a touch of possessiveness in her voice. “If there’s anything you ever want to know about this guy, just ask me. I have lots of stories.”

  Joey smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Sara hesitated, her eyes moving over Joey briefly. Then she nodded.

  “I should go.”

  We walked her to the front door and watched as she got into her car and drove off. Then I turned into Joey and slid my arms around her. “Ready for that shower?”

  Without a word, she took my hand and led the way up the stairs.

  She stripped out of her clothes as I turned on the shower. She was leaning back against the counter when I stepped back out, naked and looking so exhausted that I felt sorry for her. I lifted off my shirt and moved close to her, sliding my hands over her shoulders.

  “Do you want to just go to sleep?”

  She ran her fingers over my tattoo as she had done dozens of times since our first night together.

  “Are these her initials?”

  I looked down at my own flesh as if it was the first time I’d seen the tattoo instead of having passed years looking at it.

  “Partly.”

  She touched her finger to the s, then the larger n, and the tiny e. And then her fingers were back to the s.

  “Sara Elizabeth Nelson. You dated in high school.”

  “We did. For more than a year. And then Sara’s father got a job that required the family to move back east, to New York. I was devastated, and she was convinced I would forget her. So we snuck out one night and went to a tattoo parlor. I got this to prove to her that I wouldn’t forget.”

  “And did you?”

  I ran my hand over the top of her head, tugging away the elastic that held her ponytail in place. Her hair fell in a cascade down her back. I ran my fingers through it, stalling for time, as I formed my answer slowly in my own mind before saying it aloud.

  “I never forgot her. But we changed over the years. When she came back, I’d finished high school and gone to college, met new people, and became someone I wasn’t when I knew her.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Long story short? I told her I only wanted her as a friend, and she started dating my brother.”

  “Do you love her?”

  I groaned because, despite the fact that I’d known this question was coming, I still wasn’t sure how to answer it.

  “I was sixteen when I thought I was in love with her.”

  “But you did love her.”

  “I did. She was very important to me. But she’s my brother’s wife now, the mother of my niece. I love her, but not in the way you mean.”

  Joey looked up at me, her eyes wet with unshed tears. I touched her cheek, ran my finger along her jaw. “Sara’s the past.”

  “She’s not. She’s still a part of your life. And she’s everything I’m not.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that you had a relationship with her? Why didn’t you tell me about this a long time ago?” she asked, her fingers still playing with the tattoo.

  “I don’t know. It just seems like so much ancient history. I don’t even think about the tattoo anymore.”

  She didn’t argue anymore. But her fingers kept playing with the ink, and it made me feel like she wanted to continue to argue, but she was restraining herself. I wasn’t sure I wanted her to do that. I didn’t want something like this to fester and become some big thing down the line.

  “Talk to me,” I said, touching her chin lightly, forcing her to look up at me. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking that I’m really tired, and now isn’t the time for this sort of conversation.”

  “Joanne—”

  “Please don’t call me that.”

  I ran my thumb over her bottom lip. “Joey. I don’t want to be with Sara. Not anymore. The tattoo was just an impulsive thing I did as a kid. I was even thinking of getting it covered up.”

  “With what?”

  “I don’t know. A picture. Or maybe Alexa’s name.”

  She nodded, her eyes refusing to move to mine. It felt like we’d stepped backward, that we were right back where we’d been this morning. But then she stood and led the way to the shower, her mouth finding mine the moment we were under the warm spray of the water. I pulled her close, so close, and I still wanted more. I wanted her closer. />
  Had I ever felt this way about Sara? Had I ever wanted to swallow her up, to be closer than two people could possibly be? I don’t know. I don’t think so.

  All I knew was that this was where I wanted to be in this moment. And that was enough for now.

  Chapter 29

  Joey

  “You never told me he had a tattoo.”

  “You never asked.”

  Rosie carefully pressed a light-colored leaf to the top of the cake she was working on, moving slowly and with such grace it was hard to reconcile this Rosie with the Rosie who burst into my bedroom all agitated three days ago.

  “What does it say? I couldn’t really see it.”

  I shook my head, not really in the mood to discuss my boyfriend’s past with my sister.

  “Is Rahul coming to help transport these cakes in the morning?” I asked, glancing at the clock. “Or, more accurately, I guess I mean four hours from now.”

  “I don’t know. He’s been sort of AWOL these last few days.”

  “Hmm…”

  I poured more cake batter into a set of cake tins. We had a couple of large orders. One was going to a party at a private residence, the other to a bachelorette party across town. One wanted the cakes there at noon, the other shortly before because the venue didn’t allow deliveries during business hours for some reason. This meant that by the time we got done with the baking and the decorations, we’d only have enough time to shower before we had to head out.

  “Jackson said we could borrow his car.”

  “How are things going with Jackson anyway?”

  “He’s a little annoyed that we’ve been spending so much time working on the cake business. But, otherwise, it’s okay.”

  She finished pressing the fondant leaves to the top of the bachelorette cake—it was meant to look sort of like a wedding cake with roses and lacy piping all around the top. Then she focused on me, watching as I finished filling the cake pans and popped them in the oven.

  “How are things with you and Jason? You haven’t gone over there in a couple of days.”

  “We’ve had cakes to work on.”

  “Nothing you couldn’t do during the day. You don’t have to be here when I decorate.”

  I shrugged, but I knew she could see through my nonchalance.

  “There’s nothing wrong. But these stories on that blog are really starting to get to me, you know?” I wiped my hands on a towel and carried the empty bowls to the sink. “They started out as a nuisance, but it seems like they’re becoming more targeted. And I’m the target.”

  There was a post just this morning that discussed the men who came to the bar where I worked. It was accompanied by a copy of the picture someone took last month of Jason and I in the backseat of his car outside the bar. But it had been altered to make it look like I was with someone other than Jason. Before that, there was a post that suggested I was hoping Jason would marry me so that I could get my hands on his money. And, before that, Dear Elizabeth had answered questions posted at the bottom of her posts, emphasizing the ones that implied I was less than honest, that I was a gold digger, or something.

  “It does seem like she has a personal reason to go after you.”

  “Jason still thinks that whoever’s behind it is trying to damage his reputation. Especially since his parents are coming back to the States next week.”

  “Really? Do you get to meet them?”

  I nodded. “He wants to have everyone over for dinner the night they get back. He wants me to work with Shelly on a menu.”

  “Does he want you to cook, too?”

  “No. He has a caterer who comes in and does that stuff.”

  Rosie whistled under her breath. “He really is rich, isn’t he?”

  She was leaning on the kitchen counter, watching me when she should have been working on the cake. I walked over, dipped my finger in a bowl of frosting and licked it off as I studied her.

  “He’s not from our world, that’s for sure.”

  “Our world isn’t the only one that’s worth living in, Joey. Maybe you’ll like it up there with him.”

  “I don’t think I fit in the way he thinks I should.”

  “Why do you have to fit in?”

  It was a good question, and I really didn’t have a good answer. I just knew that it was important.

  “What if his parents don’t like me? What if they take one look at me and decide that their son could do so much better with someone who’s more like them?”

  “And what if they love you?”

  I groaned. “I don’t think they will.”

  “But how do you know they won’t?”

  I leaned on the counter, my elbows on the counter in front of her so that we were almost nose-to-nose.

  “You have an answer for everything.”

  “And you overthink everything.” She leaned forward and touched her forehead to mine briefly. “Jason likes you. I can see it when he looks at you. And that, my dear sister, is the only thing that really matters.”

  “Thanks,” I said, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Now finish that cake.”

  ***

  Jackson showed up a little after nine. Rosie disappeared with him upstairs, leaving one of the cakes nearly finished, but not quite. If I hadn’t been asleep on the couch, only partially aware of what was happening, I would have killed her. As it was, I had to clumsily finish piping roses on the top of one cake and box it up before rushing off to take a shower.

  But, somehow, we managed to get the first cake delivered to the hotel where the bachelorette party was being held. The second one was a little more complicated. Jackson, despite using the GPS on his phone, managed to get turned around the wrong direction not once, but three times.

  When we pulled up the driveway of the house, I felt like I was walking through one of those dreams that felt like déjà vu. The house was huge, made of stone and brick, and set back almost half a mile from the road. It wasn’t in a secured community, but that was the only real difference between it and the feel and appearance of Jason’s house. It was impressive.

  We pulled up to the five-car garage and Rosie, chattering about the balconies and the stonework and the obvious luxury, caught a man by the sleeve who was carrying flowers through a side door.

  “Is this where we make a delivery?”

  The man looked down at her as if she was the dumbest person on the face of the Earth.

  “It is,” he said before brushing her off and continuing to the house.

  Rosie didn’t even notice his disrespect. She bounced back to the car like a dog who’d just been let off his leash after a long day in the car, all full of energy and excitement.

  “Grab a box,” I said.

  “What about me?” Jackson asked.

  “Just wait for us here,” I said. “This might take a minute.”

  We had three cakes to deliver. One was a large sheet cake meant to feed nearly fifty. The other two were smaller cakes that were decorated to look like books. Rosie carried one of the smaller ones while I took the other two, careful with every step since I couldn’t see my feet. Rosie pushed open the side door, and I was somewhat relieved to see it opened into a large, impressively equipped kitchen.

  A woman with dark hair pulled back into a severe bun pointed to the table.

  “I assume those are the cakes.”

  “They are,” I said, carefully setting my two boxes down.

  “I hope they’re good. We normally get the cakes through a proper bakery, but Mrs. Brooks heard that the two of you did a cake for a friend of hers and she had to have her own done by you.”

  I glanced at Rosie. She lifted her eyebrows and smiled wide.

  “Well, thank you for taking a chance on us,” I said, as I carefully lifted the lid on the larger box. It was always a bit of a risk transporting a decorated cake. We’ve had some major disasters where the cake shifted and the frosting was ripped away, or some of the fondant fell off. But this one was just as beaut
iful as it had been when I closed it up at the townhouse.

  “It’s not my party,” the woman said. “I’m just the caterer. What do I know about cakes?”

  She walked off in something of a pout. Rosie started to giggle. I shoved her with my shoulder, but I couldn’t help the smile on my face either.

  “Oh, the cakes are here!”

  I turned, my heart stuttering a little in my chest. I knew that voice.

  She was just as shocked to see me. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide at first, but then narrowing. Justin was beside her, the baby in his arms.

  “Sara.”

  “Joey! You’re our baker?” Justin asked, his eyes dancing, just like Jason’s did when he thought I’d done something amusing.

  Sara was staring at me as if I was the last person she wanted in her house. I had never felt quite so unwanted in all my life.

  “I guess I am.”

  Justin laughed. “Jason told me you had a baking business, but I was thinking cookies and cupcakes for some reason.”

  Rosie nudged me. Sara’s glare dropped as the baby made a sound. She turned to her husband, taking the baby gently from his arms.

  “Rosie, this is Justin, Jason’s brother. And his wife, Sara.”

  “And Alexa,” Justin said quite proudly, rubbing his thumb against the child’s cheek. “Can’t forget her.”

  “And their daughter, Alexa.” I tried to smile, which was easier than I’d thought it would be because the baby looked at me and smiled one of those sweet smiles tiny babies were the only creatures capable of producing. “Justin, Sara, Alexa, this is my sister, Rosie.”

  “It’s nice to finally meet you,” Justin said, coming over to shake Rosie’s hand. “Jason’s told me all about you.”

  “I hope it was all nice.”

  Justin inclined his head slightly. “Most of it.”

  And then he laughed even as he turned to his wife and offered her a warm kiss. Sara returned the kiss for a moment, then moved out of his reach even as he went in for more.

  “Got to go,” he said, his eyes on his wife. There was a lot of affection there. From him. I wasn’t as confident in Sara’s feelings for him. She was suddenly so hard to read. One moment, I’d thought she was my friend. The next…I was beginning to think she saw me as some sort of interloper she’d be happy to see disappear.