Lie to Me (Firsts and Forever Stories #15)

Chapter 1

Salvatore

The gorgeous guy in the tuxedo caught me by surprise. I’d just climbed into a taxi in front of my hotel, and not two seconds later, he stumbled into the back seat with a champagne bottle in his hand. “Just drive,” he told the cabbie. “I don’t care where we go.”

The driver met my gaze in the rearview mirror with a questioning look in her eyes. When I nodded, she pulled away from the curb. In the next instant, the man startled me again by bursting into tears. Sobs shook his slender body as he doubled over.

That completely threw me off. I wasn’t good with emotional outbursts, or people in general. After several awkward seconds, I asked, “Do you need help?”

I’d never seen anyone do a literal double take, until that moment. He glanced over, then whirled around and stared at me, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes as he blurted, “Where did you come from?”

“Rome, originally.”

That had been a feeble attempt at humor, but all it did was confuse him. “What?”

I tried again. “I was already in the cab when you climbed in.”

“I didn’t see you.” He raised the bottle and tried to take a sip. When he discovered it was empty, he mumbled, “Someone drank all my champagne.”

This guy was hammered, so where it had gone was no mystery. I leaned forward and told the cab driver, “Please take us somewhere with coffee, preferably a European-style café.”

A few minutes later, we pulled up in front of a tiny café and bakery, and my companion climbed out of the cab. I handed the driver some cash and asked, “Where are we? It’s my first time in San Francisco.”

“This is North Beach.”

“How is this a beach?”

“That’s just the name of our Italian neighborhood. The main drag is right around the corner, but it’s bound to be jam-packed on a Saturday night. I figured someplace quieter would be better for your new, drunk friend. Heads up though, because he’s wandering away.”

I cursed under my breath and hurried after him as he meandered down the sidewalk. Once I caught up to him, I gently grasped his shoulders and steered him in a wide arc, reversing his direction. He didn’t have his bottle anymore, and it was nowhere to be seen. I wondered where it had gone.

He muttered, “Where are we going?”

“To get you some coffee, so you can sober up.”

He stopped walking and turned to look up at me.

“You’re really tall.” He was probably five-eleven or so, which meant I had about five inches on him.

“Handsome, too. I like men in glasses. I don’t usually like beards though, but yours is nice because it’s really short.

Long ones are icky. I’ve had to watch way too many bushy beards turn into soup strainers at my diner in San Diego.

” He shuddered dramatically while I tried my best not to picture that.

“Let’s keep going. The café is right over there.”

He stayed where he was and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Salvatore di Pietro.” My stomach knotted as soon as the words left my mouth. Maybe I shouldn’t have given him my full name, not when people were looking for me. But it probably didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he’d remember any of this.

“That’s kind of a mouthful.”

“I know.”

“Does anyone ever call you Tory?”

“No, never.”

“Well, I’m going to.”

“Fine. Now, let’s get you that coffee.”

He began smoothing the lapels of my gray suit jacket with his palms. When he did that a few times, it started to seem like he was petting me. “I’m Armando Cortez. Most people call me Manny. I don’t know why. It just started happening at some point.”

“What would you like me to call you?”

“Anything you want.”

“Okay. Now about that coffee—”

“My son Kit got married today.” He looked around, as if he was trying to get his bearings.

“You have a child who’s old enough to get married?”

“He’s twenty-nine.” Armando looked like he was in his mid-thirties. How could he possibly have a son who was only three years younger than me?

“The reception ended a little while ago,” he continued.

“I’m proud of myself, because I held it together in front of everyone.

But once it was over, I had to get out of there.

I found a taxi and started crying and ended up wherever this is.

” He gestured vaguely at our surroundings.

“But you know that last part, because here you are.”

This was none of my business, but curiosity compelled me to ask, “Why were you crying? Don’t you like your son’s new wife?”

“New husband, and I think he’s great. He’s sweet and kind and exactly right for Kit.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Me, I’m the problem. I’m such a loser.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No, it is, especially when you compare me to my son’s new in-laws. They’re loaded, so not only did they pay for that big, fancy schmancy wedding, they also gave the boys a European vacation for their honeymoon. You know what I gave them for a wedding present? A coffee maker.”

“That’s a good gift.”

“It would’ve been. I picked out a really nice one.

It cost me two hundred bucks! That’s nuts, right?

Mine at home cost me three dollars at a yard sale, and it does the same thing as the expensive one—it makes a fucking pot of coffee.

” He looked defeated. “I would have loved to do a lot more for the boys, but there’s no way I can compete with Daddy Warbucks. ”

“Who says it’s a competition?”

He wobbled a bit, and then to my dismay, he sat down on the sidewalk. “No one, but I always wanted to give Kit the world. Instead, all I gave him was a lifetime of financial struggles. And a big-ass coffee maker.”

For lack of any better ideas, I sat down with him. “I’m sure you did your best.”

“It wasn’t enough.” He made a sweeping gesture that almost tipped him over.

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s great that his new in-laws are super supportive and generous.

He deserved that gorgeous wedding, and it’s fantastic that he gets to go to Europe with his new husband.

I promise I really am happy for him. But also, fuck my life. ”

“What does his mother have to say about all of this?” That was a roundabout attempt at finding out if he was married. But why? We weren’t on a date, and his marital status didn’t matter.

“He doesn’t have one. I got my girlfriend pregnant when we were in high school, but she didn’t want to be a mom. I’ve been a single dad since I was seventeen.” I did the math based on his son’s age and was surprised to discover Armando was forty-six.

“That couldn’t have been easy.”

That started him on a long, slightly slurred ramble.

“It wasn’t, but I love my son, and I tried really hard to do right by him.

I had to work all the time to support us and keep a roof over our heads.

I guess I got used to working a lot, because it’s still all I do, especially now that I own the diner.

It’s always work, work, work. This is the first weekend I’ve taken off in years.

No wonder my social life is nonexistent. ”

He pushed his hair out of his dark eyes and continued, “Everyone else had someone to bring to the wedding, but not me. That’s another thing that made me sad tonight.

I have no one, Tory. It feels like life passed me by, and it’s too late for me now.

I’m going to be alone forever.” He looked like he might start crying again.

While he was talking, a group of frat boy types walked by and stared at us.

One of them smirked and started to make a snarky comment, but he instantly thought better of it and shut up when I glared at him.

Most people found me intimidating, but not Armando.

For some reason, he seemed to feel right at home spilling his guts to me.

I turned my attention back to him when he muttered, “I wish you could have been my date today, Tory. It would have been fun to dance with you at the reception.”

“We don’t need a wedding for that. I promise I’ll dance with you if you get up, drink some coffee, and let me take you back to the hotel.”

“You will?”

“Absolutely.”

I would have agreed to almost anything at that point, if it meant getting him up and moving in the right direction. My worry was that he might pass out at some point, which would make all of this infinitely more difficult.

As to why I’d decided this man was my responsibility, that was anyone’s guess.

“Okay, then.” He tried to stand but didn’t quite make it, so I got to my feet and took his hand to help him up. He teetered a little and ended up falling against me with an, “Oops.” When he put his arms around me and grinned, it confirmed my suspicion that the “fall” had been intentional.

“You’re so cuddly,” he murmured. “You’re like a big teddy bear.” He had terrible instincts when he was drunk. I was far more grizzly than teddy bear.

He nestled against me, which felt good, but I couldn’t get distracted. “The café is probably closing soon. Can we please keep moving?”

Armando let go of me and took an unsteady step backwards before announcing, “I hate these shoes. They’re giving me blisters.” He almost tipped over as he pulled off one of his loafers, but I caught him before he hit the ground.

To expedite the process, I picked him up and carried him down the sidewalk. He wrapped his arms and legs around me and rested his head on my shoulder as he said, “I like you, Tory. You’re hot, and you’re a good listener. Can we be friends?”

“Sure.”

The young woman behind the counter didn’t bat an eye as I carried Armando into the café.

I put him down and ordered two coffees to go, and he crouched down and peered into the bakery case as he muttered, “Those cookies look so good.” He tapped the glass lightly with the tip of the shoe in his hand, like a cat pawing at a door.

There were three Florentines left, and when I added them to our order, he straightened up and patted his pockets. After a moment, he exclaimed, “I don’t have any money! I forgot that I didn’t bring my wallet to the wedding.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got it.”