And he doesn’t look old.” Ellie’s cheeks got splotchy. Poor kid had a blush like a rash. Although she was so pretty it didn’t really make a difference. With her waist-length brown hair and her big green eyes, she was the beauty of the family.
Sara had been the brainy one, but all that had gotten her was an almost-completed master’s degree and a load of student debt.
“So, I assume he’s still single?” Sara said, and got another funny look from Ellie. “Since you’re shamelessly mooning over him.”
Her sister broke out in laughter. “Mooning? Jeez, Sara, you sound like Nonna.”
Sara came out from behind the counter and snatched a pair of salt-and-pepper shakers that needed refilling. “Don’t change the subject.”
“What, like you did when I asked about you and Robert?”
“Oh, my God. Why did I come back here?” Sara heard a call from the kitchen and she went to get the order ready for the Cho family. Chinatown pretty much surrounded Little Italy now. Most of their customers lived there, or in Nolita or SoHo. At least people still kept coming to their place, even if they had other pizza joints closer. Thank goodness they kept getting those “Best in New York” awards.
Not that they were making a lot of money. Enough to keep up with the cost of living, but that was about it. Fortunately, their rent was still amazingly cheap, so they weren’t about to make any changes. What would her parents do if they didn’t run this place? As the sign above the marquee proudly proclaimed, Moretti’s had been in the family since 1931.
She thought about Robert as she sliced the large Sicilian pie, then closed the box. He’d been in Rome for two months now, and while they talked two or three times a week, she wasn’t quite sure where that left their relationship. For the three years she’d known Robert, he’d wanted to work for Inside the Vatican. More than he wanted anything, including her. Oh, he’d argue otherwise, but she knew better.
There were two salads to go, which she put in the cold bag, along with the liter of soda. Then she stuck it all on the pickup counter and turned to the next pizza while Jeannette caught another phone order. The dinner hour had just begun and they were already slammed. Especially with that birthday party for twelve coming up.
The bell above the door rang, but instead of Mike Cho, it was Dominic who walked into the restaurant.
Sara stilled, and in the span of a second she was thirteen years old again, a geeky, flat-chested, mousy little girl who’d cried for two whole nights, convinced her life was over.
He’d changed. Broader chest, a hint of a five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw, his swagger more assured. He’d been the best-looking guy in school, but now he might just be the best-looking guy in New York. His eyes seemed darker, and his hair looked like her fingers would get lost in those thick brown waves, and for heaven’s sake, even his smile had gotten more charming.
As if she didn’t dislike him enough already.
But it certainly made sense that Ellie had a crush on him. One quick glance at Jeannette, and yep, she wasn’t immune either. Sara remembered how she’d written Mrs. Dominic Paladino, Mrs. Sara Paladino and Mrs. Sarafina Paladino ad nauseum on a half dozen notebooks starting at age twelve. Which stopped abruptly at age thirteen, after that day. She’d destroyed notebooks, journal entries, anything that mentioned him, purging him from her life.
The next year it was time to make the big switch to high school. Even though she’d begged her parents to let her go to the all-girls Catholic school in Midtown, they’d sent her to Loyola. The school ruled by Dom and all his jock friends.
Lucky for her, he’d barely acknowledged that she was alive.
At least now she could return the favor.
* * *
DOM PALADINO HAD been grateful to get out of his folks’ house for a little while. The conversation had turned to Tony’s wedding. Again. Even with Catherine’s parents all the way in Europe, everyone, including them, felt compelled to throw in their two cents.
Poor Catherine had been getting it from both sides. She was trying her best to keep the affair to a manageable size but her folks—both diplomats who had about a million political “friends” that had to be invited—didn’t seem to know the meaning of compromise. At this rate, they’d have to get St. Patrick’s Cathedral to hold them all. Dom had told Tony to elope a dozen times, but had his eldest brother listened? Fine. His business, his problem. Just as Dom had left the house, the discussion had turned to the relatives who still lived in Italy that should be on the guest—
His thoughts skidded to a halt. Was that Sara?
Holy shit, she’d...blossomed.
He greeted Ellie and Jeannette in his usual manner, but his gaze was magnetically drawn to Sara Moretti. He hadn’t seen her in years and damn, she looked hot. Gorgeous light brown hair that hit just below her shoulders. And those eyes of hers. If he’d had any doubt she was Sara, those big hazel eyes would’ve confirmed it. He tried to imagine that skinny, shy kid with braces from his past, but her transformation was too impressive. Probably still smart as could be, though. “Sara?”
She gave him an abrupt nod, then turned her back to slice a large pizza.
Above the piped-in Italian music, he heard Ellie gasp.
He didn’t get it. Why had Sara been so curt? He tried to remember if he’d done anything bad to her back in the day. He didn’t think so. Yeah, at times he’d been an arrogant little shit in high school, but not usually. Mostly out of rebellion, considering he had his older brothers’ reputations to live up to.
Dom honestly couldn’t remember having much interaction with Sara, not even at church functions or here in her family’s pizza parlor.
“How are the wedding plans coming along?” Ellie asked.
“Oh, man. I don’t want to even hear the word wedding. The whole thing is insane. If I ever start talking about that, remind me, would you?”
“I bet Tony’s excited.” Ellie blushed as she went over to the soda machine. She poured him a cola, squeezed a piece of lime, put a lid on it, slid in a straw and handed the cup to Dom. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, Ellie. The boys at school still driving you crazy? Say the word and I’ll make sure they behave.”
“Stop it,” she said, the pink on her cheeks looking a little spotted. “They’re all stupid.”
“Still no one special then?”
“Ew, no.”
He laughed, just as Mike Cho, a guy he knew from Loyola, then the local gym, came into the restaurant.
“Dominic,” Mike said. “What’s the matter? You don’t lift anymore?”
“I moved. I’m living in the Cast Iron District now.”
“That’s not far.”
“No,” Dom said. “But I’ve been going to Body Space Fitness in Union Square.”
“I heard that’s a good place. They have a pool, right?”
