Chapter Five
It was tricky business, flip-flopping from working all night and sleeping all day to regaining some sense of normalcy when she was off.
Night shift fucks with a person’s natural circadian rhythm.
And that was why Gina worked six twelve-hour shifts in a row every two weeks—to have those eight precious days for herself afterward.
She learned early on that two or even three wasn’t enough, considering the first one didn’t count, since she was practically comatose for most of it.
Of course, it was this altered state of consciousness that explained why she was at the bakery on her first day off that counted.
Yesterday evening, still coming out of a brain-fogged delirium, Gina’s mother somehow convinced her to work this morning.
They had a special order for two hundred and fifty cannoli.
Like, who in the fuck needs that many?
She glanced over at her mother, hunched over a stainless steel table as she painstakingly piped buttercream onto the three-tier cake for the Campisi wedding on Saturday. It was on account of that stupid cake Gina had to get up before the sun to make the damn cannoli.
“But I’m exhausted, Ma.”
“If you worked normal hours like everybody else, you wouldn’t be,” Rosemary said, reaching for the coffeepot. “When are you going to day shift?”
“I told you. As soon as there’s an opening.” Gina didn’t bother telling her there were two nurses with seniority on the waiting list ahead of her. It could be years from now.
“Quit that job.” Her mom handed her a mug filled to the brim. “You should be working in the bakery with me, anyway.”
Not again.
“Let’s not do this. Okay, Mom?” Gina curled her fingers around it and took a sip.
“Are you gonna help me?”
“With what?” she asked, taking the coffee and her sleep-deprived ass over to the kitchen table.
“Sara took a large cannoli order, and I already have a wedding cake to do on top of everything else.”
Gina adjusted the clip holding her hair up and sighed. “Let Sara do the cannoli then.”
“She can’t make ’em like you do.”
Bullshit.
Sara Malinowski Rossi, wife to her second eldest brother, Nick, had been working alongside her mother-in-law for nearly four years now.
She was perfectly capable. Contrary to her mom’s misguided and arrogant opinion, a person did not need to possess an Italian bloodline to make authentic Italian food. It was a learned skill, for chrissakes.
Not having nearly enough energy to argue with her, Gina caved, and here she was, folding mascarpone into Galbani whole-milk ricotta cheese.
Since it wasn’t the “traditional” recipe, Rosemary Rossi never used it in her cannoli cream filling, but Nonna had taught her that adding mascarpone, or even some heavy cream whipped thick, in with the ricotta made the dessert creamy and extra delicious.
“Sara said the flavors are up to us, but they asked for a variety, Gina.”
“I know, Ma.” Like she hadn’t looked over the order form before she got started. “I’m gonna do chocolate chip, candied orange, and pistachio.”
“That’s my girl.” Happy with her answer, her mother beamed. “Classic.”
“And some in chocolate, vanilla, and lemon pastry cream.” Shrugging off her mom’s disapproving stare, she stifled a giggle. While not unheard of, they certainly weren’t typical cannoli fillings. “I’ll even make extra for the display case.”
Which meant she’d have to whip up six different batches of filling versus three.
She’d be stuck in here all day, but the small act of defiance was so worth it.
With a satisfied smile, Gina sifted powdered sugar into the cheese mixture, humming Venery’s latest single.
She couldn’t say why the song was in her head, except they played it on the radio all the damn time.
“Vinny’s mother stopped in yesterday.”
Was she supposed to give a shit?
“That’s nice.”
“His sister is getting married soon, and she’s planning the bridal shower. I’m doing the cake, of course.” Her lips twitching, Rosemary set the pastry bag down. “He’s been asking after you.”
“Who?” She knew exactly who he was, but Gina wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction.
Ignoring the question, Rosemary went right on talking. “Vinny’s a fine young man, Gina. He’s a financial advisor now. Works for a big investment firm on Wabash, downtown.”
Like I fucking care.
“Good for him.”
“He’s sorry, honey.” Coming from behind, her mom hugged her. “At that age, boys think with their cazzo.”
“Ma!” If she only knew. Vinny didn’t just think with his dick, he was a dick.
“I know he regrets your misunderstanding.” Rosemary turned her around, practically batting her heavily mascaraed lashes, her head tipped to the side. “You should give him another chance.”
“Save your breath, because that’s never gonna happen.”
“Why not?” Her mom held her at arm’s length, studying her. “You still have feelings for that boy. Think I’m blind? I haven’t seen you go out with anyone else.”
“Not interested.” At all. “And I don’t feel a goddamn thing for Vinny Passarelli.”
“Grow up, Gina. You’re twenty-three years old.” Throwing her hands up in the air, she let her go. “You were just kids, then. Vinny has a bright future ahead of him. He can provide for you—”
“I don’t need anyone to provide for me, Mom. I can take care of myself.”
Maybe it was time to move out of her parents’ house.
Get her own place. She’d been tossing the idea around since she passed her nursing boards, but reasoned she’d wait until she finished grad school.
Rent or tuition? She couldn’t afford both, but her sanity was more important. A master’s degree could wait.
“Just think of the beautiful babies you’d make together.”
“Basta!” That’s enough!
Naturally, Sara chose that moment to come in the back door. Her gaze flitting from mother to daughter, she hung her coat up on a hook. “Good morning.”
“Morning, Sara.” Taking a calming breath, Gina untied her apron and plastered on a smile. “I was just gonna run across the street to get a coffee. Want anything?”
“Um…”
“You could make a pot right here, Gina.” Her hip cocked, Rosemary folded her arms across her chest. “That’s our competition, you know.”
The hell?
“How do you figure?”
“Leo.”
“Bakes muffins and cookies. Italian pastries and bread aren’t his thing.” Shaking her head, Gina couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re being ridiculous, Mama.”
“Still…”
“I happen to know just how much he loves your cannoli.” Appeasing her mother, she kissed her cheek. “I’ll get you a cappuccino, okay?”
“All right.”
“I’ll take a coffee, too,” Sara chimed in, pulling her long blonde hair into a pony. “Make mine a hazelnut latte with an extra shot.”
“You got it.”
Gina stepped outside. Leaning back against the brick wall, she inhaled a gulp of brisk March air and sighed. “Madone.”
Just before nine on a Thursday morning, Beanie’s was a madhouse.
She expected as much. It was a popular spot.
Leo, Katie, and Kelly were busy behind the counter, serving customers.
Taking her place in the back of the line, Gina contemplated getting some of Leo’s buttery banana-nut muffins just to piss her mother off.
She wouldn’t. That would be childish. She was tempted to, though.
If only she would quit with the meddling and keep her opinions to herself.
At least where my love life is concerned.
Not that she had one, and that was the point, she supposed.
Gina realized her mom just wanted to see her happy and settled with someone, but there was plenty of time for that.
Someday, in the faraway future. Unlike most of the girls she knew, she wasn’t in a hurry, and she wasn’t desperate.
And while she thought he might have been once, Vinny Passarelli was so not that guy.
“Gina, ma belle.” Wearing a green sweatshirt emblazoned with a sparkly silver shamrock, Leo leaned across the counter, kissing both of her cheeks. “Coming home from work?”
“No, uh, I’m helping Mom out in the bakery today.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Two hundred and fifty cannoli.” More like three hundred, but who’s counting?
“You need a pick me up, bébé. What’ll it be?”
She gave him her mom’s and Sara’s orders, then added her own. “And a quad-shot latte for me. A little sweet—”
“And a sprinkle of cinnamon.” He winked. “Leo knows.”
After Kelly swiped her card, she moved to the end of the bar to wait for the coffee.
Katie smiled. “Hey, Gina. Haven’t seen you in a while. How’ve you been?”
“Okay. How about you?”
“Living the dream, babe.” She placed a drink carrier in front of her and popped one of her drinks into it. “What do you need, Matt?”
“Can I get a refill, babe?” The guy handed Katie his empty cup, and leaning over the counter, he planted a kiss on her cheek. “Please?”
“Sure, gimme a sec.”
Rude.
When Katie turned away to pour him some coffee, he turned to look at her. “Hello, pizza girl.”
Her breath caught.
She took a good look at his face this time.
Brown hair, streaked with blond, fell past his shoulders.
His warm brown eyes appeared kind. Straight nose.
Full Cupid’s bow lips. He was a pretty boy—almost too pretty, not that she should think of a man that way.
Matt McCready was the same age as Tony’s, for fuck’s sake.
“I have a name, you know.”
“Gina.” He smiled at her, and she almost forgot how to breathe. “I remember.”
“You two know each other?” Katie handed him his refill.
“Yeah.”
“No,” Gina said at the same time.
Katie looked at them both, confused.
Matt cozied up to her. “You came to my house and brought me food, didn’t you?”
“I delivered a pizza,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
Nodding toward the espresso machine, Katie giggled. “I’ll just be over here finishing up your lattes.”
Sweat trickled down the back of Gina’s neck. Her teeth raking over her lip, she glanced in every direction but his.
With a husky chuckle, warm breath ghosted past her ear. “Catch you later, bunny.”
What?
She turned around, but he was gone.
Katie stood there, grinning. “He’s got his sights set on you, girl.”
“Yeah, sure.” Grabbing the coffee, Gina shook her head. “I have to get back. Thanks, Katie. See you.”
And hours later, after frying and filling three hundred and forty-two pastry shells, she was cleaning up the prep area with her mom when Sara poked her head in. “Some guy is out front asking for you.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, but damn, Gina, he’s cute,” she said, nearly squealing.
He held a bottle of pop and a white Rossi’s bag in his hand. Italian beef with sweet peppers and giardiniera. She could smell it.
“Just picked up my dinner.” Swiping his tongue across his lip, Matt grinned. “Thought you could help me with dessert.”
“Did you now?”
He sauntered closer to the glass case. And her. “Yeah, I did.”
“How about the cannoli?” Sara gushed, her grin so wide it looked like her lips might split open. “Gina made them. They’re so good.”
“Exactly what I had in mind.” He spoke to Sara, but his gaze was on her. “Can’t wait to taste it.”
“Which kind would you like?”
“I’ll take one of each.”
Sara went to box up his cannoli.
Gina leaned across the counter. “Hope you’re hungry. That’s a lot, you know.”
“Dessert’s my favorite thing in the world, pizza girl.” Matt winked. Then, leaning into her ear, he whispered, “And I’m starving.”