Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“You can call Rocco,” she said with a wink. “He’s only a block away.”
“Mom.” I shot her another warning look that she ignored with a smile.
I strolled around the room. I wasn’t going to lie. I did wonder what Rocco would think about me owning my own coffee shop. I could go to Scarab and ask him, but I wouldn't. A month had passed since I’d last heard from him, and even though every day, I woke up hoping he'd come back into my life, I didn't want to make the first move. I'd done that already. I wanted to be with him so badly, but one thing this experience taught me was that I was stronger than I thought I was. He'd said those words to me. He'd made me believe it. It wasn't like I was moping around waiting for him.
For three weeks, Gabriel, Dominic, and I were helping my mother out with the properties she was now the sole owner of. She'd offered them the estate in Palermo, which they both refused. I'd told them to burn it down for all I cared. I didn’t mean that, though. I’d always loved that estate. In the meantime, we’d agreed to keep it between the four of us. Mom suggested we could finally put the grape trees to use and make some wine. That was all it took for my brothers to come up with all the different ways a winery could be profitable.
My brothers wanted her to keep the estate in Connecticut. It wasn’t like she needed anything that Dad had left in her name. And after everything, she didn’t want most of it, but that estate was her baby. She’d been the one to buy the land. She’d met with architects and contractors and had everything made to her liking. The only thing Dad had there were his paintings, which Mom wanted to donate to museums. She’d always hated keeping them there, where “only Dad’s mafioso friends, who knew nothing about art, would see.” The only things left to sort out were Dad’s businesses, and my brothers were handling that as they saw fit.
I chose to stay in New York, which my brothers were thrilled about. Mom would be nearby in Connecticut, and she'd helped me find a rare two-bedroom with a huge private terrace. It was far too big for one person, but I loved it. The guys and their wives had helped me with the furniture and stocking up the kitchen. All of them except Rocco, which stung deeper than I wanted to acknowledge. I pushed that thought aside and tried to maintain my excitement about the coffee shop and the party I was having tonight. Everyone was coming over for a housewarming party. We’d have drinks and charcuterie. I’d already decorated the place and set up the small bar–a gift from Gabe– for the festivities. I looked around the coffee shop again. When Rosie found out about it, her first question was, “Will you have brunch on Sundays?” I’d laughed, but it was a good question.
I turned to Charlie. “Do we serve brunch on Sundays?”
“We do.” He laughed and went back to the bread he was making.
Charlie was a little older than me and had worked here since the coffee shop opened. Most of them had, and they’d been excited and welcoming when they found out that Mom bought it for me, which was nice. It made for a smoother transition.
“Good. I have some friends who love brunch.”
“You mean, everyone in the world?” Charlie raised an eyebrow.
“Not everyone loves brunch.” My smile dimmed when I thought about Rocco and the choice words he had to say about it.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” I blinked, shaking my head. “Sorry.”
He went back to the bread. Mom walked back over to me and told me to say hi to the camera. I waved and smiled as she spoke Spanish to whoever was on the other end of the call, telling them how amazing the place was and how they had to visit. With Dad gone, she felt comfortable inviting her family and friends from back home. Before, she’d only gone to them or met with them somewhere for vacation, but never had them in our space. It was too risky, she’d said. When she said things like that, it made me stop and wonder how paranoid she must have been during her marriage.
“You ready to go?” she asked, putting her phone away.
“Do you think I can walk?” I asked. “By myself?”
“I think you can do whatever you want.” She set a hand on my shoulder and smiled. “Of course, security will still follow you from afar, just to make sure. Only for the next few months. After that, you can drop them.”
“Okay.” I smiled.
It was still better than having to get in the back seat of a car all the time. I’d fully intended to go home, but my feet went in the other direction, and before I could talk myself out of it, I found myself walking to Scarab. I’d told myself to let him come to me, but I couldn’t wait any longer. Rocco was patient. I wasn’t. I needed him to answer one question. If it wasn’t what I needed to hear, I’d walk away and never look for him again. I was approaching the door when it opened. I stopped dead in my tracks and held my breath. When I saw it was Nico, I let it out, but then a woman walked out, fixing her lipstick, and I felt my heart plummet into my stomach.