Chapter Twenty-Four
Hazel
If there was one thing about me, it was that I could get lost in an online shopping hole almost endlessly. And when it was with someone else’s credit card? There was no limit.
I had carts full of stuff in eight different storefronts when my eyes finally got too dry from strain to keep looking at the computer.
I swiveled in my chair, blinking some moisture back into my eyes as I glanced out the glass windows of the shop.
Men were milling around everywhere.
Over near the opening of the maze, Ant was stripped down to his boxer briefs and was rubbing down his body with baby wipes, dropping them all into a lined bucket someone had placed beside him.
It was the first time I’d seen him without his makeup on.
He was a good-looking guy, with a jaw that could sharpen glass, a wide mouth, and high cheekbones.
The girls may have been drooling over his character, but they wouldn’t be disappointed in his face either.
There were flashes of lights in the woods, and I imagined that somewhere out there, a man who’d betrayed the Grassi Family was finding his eternal resting place. Right on the property of the man he’d been trying to steal from.
It felt oddly fitting.
There was a soft knock at the door, making my hand shoot out toward the gun before I even turned.
But it was just Dante.
I made my way over, unlocking the door, and letting him inside.
“Am I poor?” he asked, shooting me a sweet, but tired, smile.
“I didn’t buy anything yet. But the carts are bursting.
I wanted to show you everything before I actually hit the buy button.
Oh, except I did totally order ornaments.
Custom ones. For the store. They have a cute little Christmas tree farm on them, the name of this place, and this year’s date.
I figured they would be a fun, limited-edition thing to offer. ”
“I like the way your mind works. Would you mind if we go over the carts some other time, though? Honestly, I’m fucking starving.”
“It can wait. I’m hungry too. I stole one of Domenico’s gross protein bars from under the counter.” I ran my tongue across the roof of my mouth a few times. “I can still taste it,” I said with a nose wrinkle.
“How about we grab something on the way home?”
Home.
I liked that more than I should have. Especially since we weren’t even officially dating.
“Is anything even open this late?”
“The diner is twenty-four hours. We can order takeout.”
“I actually haven’t had diner food yet,” I admitted.
“What? You’ve been in Jersey for months.”
“I know! I just didn’t want to go alone, I guess.”
“Alright. Change of plans then. How about we go and have some sit-down diner food? Then we go home.”
“I like that plan. Do they have those silly little radios like they show in the TV shows about Jersey?”
“They have ‘em. But they don’t usually work anymore. More for the aesthetics than for actual use.”
“The vibes are still fun. Let me just grab your card,” I said, rushing over toward the desk.
“Do you have any water back there?” Dante asked, following me.
“Yeah,” I said, producing a bottle. “Why?”
He said nothing, just uncapped it, grabbed some tissues, wet them, then gently tipped my head up and started dabbing at the dried blood on my neck.
“Does this hurt?” he asked.
“Not really. That knife was really sharp. It was like getting nicked by a razor when you’re shaving your legs.
I mean, not that you shave your legs. But it kinda just burns for a second then you forget about it until it’s mostly healed, then it itches.
Which is a long way of saying it’s no big deal. ”
“No big deal,” he repeated, tossing the tissues in the garbage before gently framing my face with both his hands. “Hazel, I could have lost you tonight. I can’t think of a bigger deal than that.”
He leaned in, his forehead kissing mine for a long moment. And I swear in the silence that followed, I could hear my heart growing, expanding, filling up with him.
I was pretty sure it was me who angled up toward him. But he was quick to seal his lips to mine, to kiss me long and deep until I felt it in my toes. Until I felt it in my bones.
“Keep making sounds like that and we’re gonna end up giving everyone out there a show.”
“I mean, there’s a floor behind the counter,” I said, getting a sexy little chuckle out of him as his hand reached for mine. He threaded our fingers, grabbed his card, then led us out of the shop.
We said a quick goodbye to both Domenico and Ant before climbing into his car.
It occurred to me as I slid into his passenger seat that I had no idea where my car was. Nor did I particularly care. I was kind of enjoying having a chauffeur.
“What’s the smile for?” Dante asked as he reversed out of the parking spot.
“I was just thinking that I am kind of enjoying being a passenger princess.”
To that, he let out a little chuckle. “Yeah? Well, I like driving you around.” His hand moved out, grabbing my thigh, then giving it a little squeeze before letting it settle there as he drove down the highway. “Your car is parked at Famiglia, by the way.”
“Famiglia?” I asked, brows scrunched.
“Luca’s restaurant. I wanted to put it somewhere that was safe and wouldn’t get towed. We monitor that place twenty-four seven. We can get it whenever you want it back.” My stomach twisted. “But I’m in no hurry to give up my position as your personal driver.”
“Personal driver and personal chef… and personal security guard.”
“All positions I’m enjoying holding,” he assured me as he took the jug handle to spit the car back out on the other side of the street so we could pull into the parking lot of the diner.
I passed it every day since I’d been in Navesink Bank. It was a gaudy silver structure with a domed foyer and big picture windows lining all the sides.
I’d been oddly fascinated by it each time I drove by, wondering about the people inside.
Was the man sitting alone, cradling a cup of coffee and looking off into the night, just enjoying a quiet moment to himself, mourning a love lost, or was he waiting for a date that might not come? Was the server going to offer him a conciliatory smile before passing him the check?
Were the group of rowdy girls there after a night of clubbing? Were they celebrating a birthday? An engagement? Or maybe a recent breakup?
As we were led by a middle-aged server over to a window seat, I couldn’t help but wonder what people might think of us as they drove by.
Would we look like colleagues? Friends? Or would someone see our chemistry, the delicate beginnings of a new connection?
“Okay. So, what does a real Jersian order at the diner?”
“That is entirely up to you. I have a cousin who has never ordered anything but a grilled cheese and fries; my mom is a BLT kind of person; breakfast is always a popular choice, though.”
“What do you recommend?”
“The coffee. It’s bitter and borderline undrinkable. But that’s the charm of it.”
“Bitter coffee. Check. What else?”
“Well, I’m assuming you’ve never had disco fries before.”
“I don’t even know what disco fries are.”
“They’re fries topped with melted mozzarella cheese and brown gravy.”
“Brown gravy?” I asked, dubious.
“Trust me. It’s just something you have to experience to understand. But we will order pizza fries too, just in case they aren’t a hit for you.”
I flipped through the massive laminated menu—complete with pictures and little stories—feeling a little overwhelmed by the options.
“What are ‘fat’ sandwiches?” I wondered aloud.
“Sandwiches that have either meat or a veggie burger, cheese, veg, fries, and mozzarella sticks.”
“Well, that sounds perfect for my first diner sandwich then.”
I settled on the ‘Fat Albert,’ which featured a veggie burger along with the veg, cheese, fries, and mozzarella sticks.
We sipped our awful coffee as I flipped through the little tabletop jukebox full of oldies.
“Do people actually eat the desserts in that case?” I asked, eyeing the front counter where we were meant to pay with its long glass dessert case.
“What else would they do with it?”
“Well, it could just be for display.”
“To be honest, I’ve never had dessert from a diner, save for ice cream, and I don’t know anyone else who has either. I’d be dubious about the freshness.”
“What about the little boxes of cereal?” I asked, spotting the individual ones lined up on a shelf over the coffee station.
“You can order those.”
“Why would someone order cereal from a diner?”
“I’ve seen it. Not at this one, but the one up by the bars. Drunk people order weird shit.”
“Do you go to diners often?” I asked.
“Not anymore. But, fuck, we spent nearly every night at one when we were teens and early adults. There’s not much else to do around here before you’re of drinking age. So we’d hang around in parks until dark then make our way to a diner to spend a few more hours before heading home.”
“Your mom wasn’t offended you guys got food outside of the house?”
“My mom loves cooking. But I think even she was thankful for a break here and there. Especially when we were teens. It was insane how much food we could put away back then. She was forever standing in that kitchen. But I guess that’s all moms.”
“Well, not all moms.”
“Your mom didn’t cook?”
“Well, with how little she ate, she didn’t exactly spend a lot of time actually cooking. She did a big meal prep at the beginning of the week, making salads for every lunch and dinner. In the mornings, she would pour some egg whites in a pan and mix in spinach.”
“No cheese?”
“No cheese.”
“Just for her?”
“No, that’s what we all had to eat in the morning. No, it’s okay,” I said when he tried to cover up the disgusted look that crept across his handsome face. “It really was disgusting. I kind of dry heave anytime I see an egg white omelet now.”
The food came then, big plates full of fried, fatty, saucy, delicious treats. And I couldn’t help but realize just how different my life had become in just a few months as Dante clinked his disco fry with mine before I tried one for the first time.
There was no more food guilt. No worries about being too stationary, too lazy. My conversations did still often revolve around food, but not about the fat and protein content, but about how much I liked certain dishes over others.
For example, (don’t tell the native New Jersians, but) I liked the pizza fries more than the disco fries. Even if I was glad for the experience.
And ‘fat’ sandwiches? Possibly my new favorite sandwich in the whole world.
By the time we walked up to the counter to pay, I felt like I needed to undo my pants… and I didn’t have a button or zipper.
“You look a little green,” Dante said, watching my profile as we parked in his driveway.
“I’m in a fried food coma,” I told him, exhaling hard. “I might join you in the basement gym tomorrow.”
“Or you can come to the gym with me. We can somewhat go back to normal now.”
“You’re sure? What if there are more men involved?” I asked as we went in through the garage to the mudroom off of the kitchen.
“That’s something other people can worry about. You’ve done more than enough of—”
“There you are!” a voice called, making me jump and gasp.
Only to find Giulia standing in the kitchen, a cleaning rag still in her hand.
From the looks (and smell) of things, she’d been stress-cleaning for a while.
“Ma, what are you doing here?” Dante asked as his mother’s gaze slid to our clasped hands.
I had the silly, adolescent urge to drop his hand, to act like nothing was going on. Until I remembered that Giulia had all but orchestrated this.
“I came right over when I heard Hazel was attacked again.”
“It was nothing. Really,” I assured her, not wanting her to get upset. I couldn’t imagine the stress she’d been put through over the years. First by her husband, then all of her children.
“Nothing. That’s not what I heard.”
“Who was talking?” Dante asked, body tensing.
“Oh, no. None of that,” Giulia insisted, waving away her son’s tension. “I heard it from your brother. He didn’t walk away from me fast enough when the call came in.”
“And you were eavesdropping?” Dante asked, sounding close to clucking his tongue.
“It’s not my fault I have great hearing. It’s a mother thing. You’ll see eventually. Oh, what pretty babies you will make.”
“Ma…” Dante’s voice held warning, but there was a softness in his eyes when he looked down at me to offer his silent apology.
Was he thinking those things too?
Did he know that something had changed tonight? That any of the reservations I had about his lifestyle, his profession, they all evaporated?
I would have to find a time and place to tell him exactly that.
But not with his mom hanging around, making dessert, asking a thousand questions, and making more than a handful of predictions for our future.
By the time she finally headed home, we were both too exhausted to do anything but brush our teeth and fall into bed, dead tired.
Still, Dante reached for me. He pulled me onto his chest.
I fell asleep listening to the steady beat of his heart.
And I knew down to my marrow that this was exactly where I belonged.