the check and money they’d left on the table and took it to the register. “I think we have a Hawaiian in the cooler,” she told Dom, and almost laughed at the face he made.
But it didn’t stop him for a second. “I’ll take it.”
“Sit down.” She walked into the kitchen, not the least bit pleased that even looking like he’d been through the ringer, he still made her insides quiver. She should have been over him years ago, the moment she’d overheard him talking to his friends about the dance, and yet there it was. That stupid little thrill. Just another one of the neighborhood girls who swooned the moment he showed up.
So embarrassing.
She got the pizza from the fridge, while he waited at the counter, turning over the take-out menu. As she got closer, his stomach rumbled so loudly she thought Carlo had probably heard. “You want me to heat a slice?”
“That would be fantastic.”
“I’m talking about the microwave. We’ve already turned off the ovens.”
“Microwave. Campfire. Cigarette lighter. It all works.”
“Here,” she said, handing him a medium drink cup. “Come on back and fix yourself a soda. You’re going to have to eat fast, because seriously...”
“You’re closing in three minutes.” He took the cup and lifted the divider that kept the customers in their place. “You always work by yourself at night?”
She rounded the corner and popped his slice in the microwave. “No,” she said, returning to the counter. “Jeanette left at eight.”
“Where’s your pop? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“He took my mom to visit family in Sicily.”
“Huh.” Dom looked puzzled.
“What? Because he never takes a vacation?”
“Well, yeah, that, too. I’m just surprised there are any Italians left in Sicily. I heard it was being overrun by outsiders.”
“You mean like Little Italy?”
“So, you noticed, huh?”
“Hard not to.” Sara didn’t mistake the easy small talk for a get-out-of-jail-free card. At any minute he was going to ask her what she’d meant the other night, and she didn’t know what to tell him. A lie wasn’t beneath her, if she was able to think up a good one. Just so she could put the whole stupid thing to rest.
A loud bang from the kitchen made her jump.
“Carlo, you okay?”
After a muttered string of curses in Italian, he said, “Yeah.”
Sara and Dom exchanged smiles.
Even after her seven-year foray into the world beyond Little Italy, Dominic Paladino was still the best-looking man she’d ever seen. It didn’t help that he was standing so close. She should’ve gotten his soda instead of inviting him into her space.
Dammit, the tummy fluttering had to stop. Now.
Dom was still looking directly at her. “So he’ll walk you home?”
“Who?”
“Carlo.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked as she made her break to the other side and went over to clear off the last dirty table. “Walk me home? I live five blocks from here.”
“I know. But it’s late.”
“Nine o’clock is nothing. There’s plenty of traffic. Some nights we let groups hold meetings here and I don’t get out before eleven.”
“What? That’s crazy.”
“Tell my dad that. He’s the one that says it’s our civic duty. Although how hosting a chess club is considered civic duty is beyond me.” She didn’t dare stop. If Dom knew he’d momentarily thrown her off balance, he didn’t show it. She walked right past him, straight to the microwave in back. “Your slice should be ready.”
Of course it wasn’t hot because she hadn’t set enough time. She added fifteen seconds and drummed her fingers on the counter while she waited, thankful for the partition between them. So far, so good, but she still hadn’t come up with anything to say when he finally asked about the elephant in the room.
The microwave dinged.
Sara took a deep breath.
Dom was already on the other side of the counter, putting the top on his soda when she came around the wall.
“Here,” she said, setting the paper plate in front of him. “If you want another slice you have to tell me now, because—”
“You’re leaving. No, thanks. One will get me home fine.” His smile dazzled, as always, but he looked tired. Like he’d had a rough day.
She smiled back, wondering what had put the faint lines at the corners of his eyes. The tie and blazer probably meant he’d just gotten off work. Despite what she’d written in the article, she’d known he was a good student and a hard worker. “Look, Dom—”
“Sara—”
They spoke in unison. He motioned for her to go first.
Nodding, she said, “I owe you a long-overdue apology.”
DOM REMEMBERED THAT shy smile though he didn’t know why he should. He hadn’t really noticed her much back in school. And she wanted to apologize? He hadn’t seen that coming.
Earlier, when they’d been talking about the old neighborhood, they’d had a moment where they’d connected. The past had briefly converged with the present. And then something had happened, but he didn’t know what.
“I shouldn’t have written that op-ed piece. It was wrong and I knew it and I still—”
“Hey, you don’t need to do this,” he said, cutting her short. “That’s all in the past. We were kids. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Wait.” He thought for a moment. “Wrong to write the article or wrong because you knew it wasn’t true?”
“Here,” she said, pushing a bunch of napkins at him.
“You must think I’m a real slob.” When he reached for one, his fingers brushed against hers. Something twitched, nothing big. A reminder that he was aware of how soft her skin looked, of the way her hips flared. How the shirt clung to her breasts.
“I don’t want to see you get sauce on that snazzy blazer.”
He glanced down and shrugged. “I had to meet with two new clients, and then I had an interview.”
Behind
