Chapter 10
Carmello
Now
“Hat or no hat, Teddy?”
“Hat,” my son says, then pops the pastelito back in his mouth.
It’s only 8 a.m. on a Sunday, and some other kid might be eating cereal, but all Teddy wants lately is my homemade chicken- and-cheese pastelitos or plain white rice.
Never together. Daniela’s been stressed because he won’t eat school lunch, and she worries teachers will start talking shit if we keep packing his lunch bag the way we’ve had to.
My blue nose pit bull One Piece sits beside Teddy, begging for a bite with pouty eyes, and I know if I turn my back long enough my son will slip him a little.
But I keep an eye on them in the mirror. “Okay. Hat stays, sneakers go.”
Teddy lets out a huff and I can’t blame the kid. I’ve switched outfits a few times already, and I can only hope his annoyance means my indecisiveness won’t influence him to give his mother a hard time with his school clothes tomorrow.
“That was ridiculous of me,” I say, in the hopes of detering him just in case.
But I do feel ridiculous. I’m only going to work in the kitchen.
Usually, that means black cargos, a long-sleeved black tee, and whatever sneakers are closest to the door.
But since Olivia’s here, I’m conscious of stains on my shirt or smelling like sweat after a day in the hot kitchen.
Because whenever she passes by, I’m hit with a rich, seductive smell.
Each time I see her I try not to notice the unobstructed view of her skin while she wears those square-neckline shirts.
I don’t need to look good for her, but who wants to look bad seeing their ex?
I justify this feeling by telling myself she won’t be here much longer.
My dad was right. I don’t know Olivia anymore.
But some things still seem true. She doesn’t want money.
Icing her out hasn’t worked because she hasn’t left.
So…this morning I had an epiphany. On my eighteenth birthday, Olivia and I sat outside of Celia’s and she asked what I wished for.
I told her I wanted to own a restaurant of my own.
But while I was having visions of us doing it together, she wondered if it might get boring after a while.
I told her my mother never seemed bored, and she said, “Well, I just don’t know if I want to be locked in like that. ”
From what I’ve overheard at the restaurant, she’s now a private chef with multiple clients, and that suits her.
She’s never wanted to be stuck. And that might be the thing I can count on to not have changed at all.
Once she realizes what it actually means to own a restaurant, she won’t want it.
Especially not with me. But I don’t think it’ll be enough for her to realize on her own that she’ll have responsibilities; I’ll have to give them to her.
When she starts feeling trapped, she’ll be on her way, leaving her shares in my name so there’s nothing keeping her from traveling the globe.
And then I can pretend none of this ever happened.
“One Pieeeeece,” Teddy says, stretching the name with a giggle. He falls back on the bed while his favorite friend licks the crumbs from his face. And even though One Piece has never hurt a soul, the voice in my head says, What if he accidentally nips Teddy’s skin even a little?
I try to shake the thought off, knowing the worry is unwarranted, wondering where the hell it came from, but while Teddy is playfully pushing One Piece away, I can’t help telling them: “Be easy, boys.”
***
Daniela’s unloading groceries from her trunk when I pull up with our son.
Since I take him overnight on Saturdays, she can go to the supermarket alone on Sundays.
We usually catch her right when she arrives back at her house.
Like last week, I tell her to bring Teddy inside.
She reaches for his hand, and I grab the grocery bags.
While Teddy’s in his room, we discuss our schedules and put food away.
Because Daniela does real estate, her in-office hours are the only predictable part of her week.
Over the years, we’ve developed a good routine for our busy lives, but sometimes she goes on vacations with her friends out of state while I take care of Teddy full-time.
I’m always happy to see her go; she works so hard and naturally does more of the parenting than me: he has a room at my house but he lives with her.
Still, with everything going on right now, the vacation to the Bahamas she has in a couple of weeks slipped my mind, and she can tell by the look on my face.
“What’s wrong? Did you forget?” She’s not quick to overwhelm, but she cares deeply, and I don’t want to explain how I was blindsided by my mother’s meddling.
She’ll ask questions that I don’t have answers for right now.
Besides, I have my own feelings about Olivia being around Teddy that I’ve yet to unpack.
These past few days, he hasn’t been to the restaurant, and I can have my dad take him if something random crops up so he doesn’t have to be there until Olivia’s gone.
“I did,” I admit. “But there’s plenty of time before then. Everything’s okay. It’s fine.”
“Are you sure? Because I can look for a babysitter. A week is a lot and…”
I reach to squeeze her shoulder. “I’ve got him. Don’t worry,” I say because Teddy doesn’t respond well to strangers, and honestly, I don’t feel comfortable with anyone we don’t know watching him overnight anyway. I smile. “He’ll get to hang at the restaurant a lot.”
She sighs in relief. “His favorite place with his favorite person.”
“A win for the both of us,” I say. “Don’t forget to bring us good souvenirs though.”
She smiles, then scans me head to toe. “Do you have a breakfast date, Mello?”
“No. I’m going to work,” I say, stomach squeezing. “Why do you ask that?”
“You look really nice. Date kind of nice,” she says. “I like it.”
Daniela and I had casual sex only twice, and one of those times accidentally led to Teddy’s conception.
Turns out, it was the best “mistake” I’ve ever made.
We tried to date while Daniela was pregnant, but agreed there wasn’t the lasting kind of chemistry, and we shouldn’t force a relationship because we were having a baby.
I like to think we’ve flourished as parents because of our decision to be friends.
Some people think it’s weird that we’re as close as we are, and my biggest fear is that a future partner of hers will want us to change that.
She’s been dating her boyfriend, Connor, for a couple of years now, and so far he’s had no issues with it, but we’ll see how he feels if they take any next steps.
“Just going to Celia’s, but thanks for the compliment,” I say.
“I should’ve figured,” she replies with an embarrassed little smile. “It’s just I heard from a friend that you’ve been seeing this girl named Rachael who I went to high school with and…”
She trails off, and I hang her bananas on their stand. This is one of those moments when Rhode Island feels its size. Everyone seems to know everyone. But I’m surprised Rachael is telling people about us. “It’s not serious. We haven’t been seeing each other for long,” I say.
“Oh okay,” she says, and a flash of something I can’t discern passes over her face.
I hope she’s not worried that I’d have a random woman around our son. Daniela and I agreed years ago to talk to each other if either of us wanted to bring someone new around Teddy. Meanwhile, I’m also not going to tell her that I might be seeing Olivia again today, which is far from a date.
And Olivia Jones isn’t new. And she won’t be around Teddy. No issues there.
***
Laughter. Bold, loud, obnoxious laughter. That’s what I hear as soon as I enter Celia’s.
It gives my nervous system a twenty-second head start before I see her.
But I’m not prepared enough. Olivia Jones has her hair out today; it’s swinging at the same time as her hips while she shows Paula how to dance salsa.
At the sight of me, she startles before a nervous giggle escapes.
But she doesn’t stop dancing. I pry my eyes away from her body and shove my hands in my pockets.
She’s thicker in places that have me imagining things I shouldn’t imagine.
And I really need to get this girl on a plane to wherever the hell she’s going next.
“Good morning, Carmello,” she says.
“Olivia,” I say. “Paula.” I squint.
Paula gives me a guilty look. “You said you’d teach me but you’re always so busy.”
“Well, it’s a good thing Olivia’s here,” I say, then head to the kitchen.
***
I’m checking the temperature of the refrigerators when Olivia walks in.
It’s one thing to see her at the front-of-house but having her back here while the kitchen’s empty sends an unexpected jolt through me.
The first time we ever touched was in this kitchen.
I learned what her tongue tasted like a few feet from where she’s standing now.
And when she tugs her bottom lip with her teeth, I hate wondering if she’s remembering the same thing.
Her eyes dart away, and she says, “I’m still here,” in her smooth, low-pitched voice.
“Sixth day in a row,” I say.
“Don’t sound so happy about it.”
“I’m not going to pretend that I am,” I tell her. “But…I can’t waste time dwelling on it either. The restaurant opens in two hours. And we have work to do.”
Her gaze snaps back to mine. She seems surprised but doesn’t question it.
“What can I help with?”
“Check the freezers?”
“I can do that,” she says.
“I sure hope so.”
Olivia snorts, ties her hair up in a cute messy bun at the top of her head, and gets to work.
***
When our first batch of orders comes, she steps right in beside me to look at the slips. I can’t have her distracting us in the kitchen and think this could be a good opportunity to give her a task that might remind her how much of a drag restaurant ownership can be.