Chapter 48
Olivia
Now
My mind gets snatched and held hostage for a moment.
Because between Aéropostale and Tumblr is a new email from Celia.
Goose bumps break out all over my body. I swear even my left pinky finger tingles.
“Celia, what the hell? I told you to haunt Carmello, not me,” I say, but I’m really wondering if she scheduled an email for me like she did for her son and his dad.
And then suddenly my belly warms like it knows Carmello is behind me before he says, “When did you tell her to haunt me?”
I whip around to face him, pulse racing before it settles to a rhythm that makes me feel safe. I wished for it, and he came. He hesitates before he takes a seat. But he’s not close enough.
“At the cemetery one day,” I confess. Then: “You’re looking at me like I might bite.”
“You can if you want to,” he says.
I bite back a smile, and ask, “Why are you here?”
He nods his head to my phone. “Read for yourself.”
I inhale once and then open Celia’s email, which is when I notice it’s really addressed to the person sitting beside me. He cc’d me in it when he sent it to himself.
“I don’t feel comfortable reading something meant for you.”
“How do you think I felt when you tried getting me to read the emails you two sent each other?” he replies. “Just scroll to the bottom, Jones.”
I lift the phone again. “Fine, Rodriguez, but I don’t know why—”
I’m silenced for the second time today because underneath Celia’s superlong signature to her son and a wordy PS, there’s a short message from Carmello.
O,
After you read this, do you think we can meet to talk at the pedestrian bridge?
I’d pick you up, but I want you to have the freedom to get there on your own, or not.
Still, you should know that I had already been solid and decided in my decision to keep you in my life.
Even if it’s just through a computer screen.
—Mello
“I’m here because I waited all day for you to message me after reading my mom’s email, then I realized maybe you didn’t, but something told me you might already be here anyway.
” I raise my head, confused about what this all means.
“I’ll explain everything, but first, I need you to read it. Please,” he says.
I agree, then he scoots closer. With his thigh pressed up to mine, I take my time with it.
Minutes later, there are tears in my throat and my nose is running and I can barely breathe.
Celia Rodriguez loved her son, and she loved me too.
She picked me for her restaurant and to be family for Carmello after she was gone, and she wanted to give me the choice to accept.
Carmello wipes my nose with his shirtsleeve, even though he definitely has germophobia, and I lean my head against him while I read the letter again.
“Paula,” I say with a smile.
“The deceit,” Carmello says, and I hear him smiling too.
“How dare they,” I say right as another email hits my inbox. It’s from Carmello.
I stare at the pdf file attached in the body of the email, then my head snaps up to look at him. He leans in to kiss one of my eyebrows, says, “I need you to read through this one too.”
My face tingles and I want him to do that again, but I nod and do as he asked.
What I learn while I’m scrolling: the document was dated a week ago and drawn up by Carmello’s new lawyer.
With his e-signature attached in various boxes, he gave me 25 percent of his shares, which would have caused him to lose controlling interest in the restaurant.
Had Celia’s second will and testament not been discovered obsolete today, Carmello Rodriguez would’ve been giving me more than just a partnership.
Fifty percent of the restaurant would have belonged to me.
I work on my breathing until it slows, I get my heart to steady, and then I meet Carmello’s eyes and say, “How dare you, Mello.”
“You wanted me to take my time,” he says, “but I’ve spent so many years overthinking when it came to you, O.
And I’ve learned more about myself and the way my stuff clashes up against your stuff and makes things hard for us faster in these few weeks than I did in a decade.
” He brushes a strand of fallen hair from my face.
“But I know exactly what I want and that’s you in my life, in whatever form you see fit.
However close you want to be to me. I do have fears, but I don’t think they’re those same fears anymore.
I won’t ask you to stay in the way I want you to stay, but I will ask that you always find a place for me in your life. I can’t lose you again.”
“You came here with a pdf file in hand, smelling as good as you do, sitting as close as you are, and you think you’re losing me?” I ask. “I’m confused as to why we’re not kissing yet.”
“You’re making that face that you know makes me weak, Jones,” he says.
“So be weak, Rodriguez,” I say.
He gets close enough to barely skim his lips against mine and things happen to my body that shouldn’t be happening on the bridge with this many people waiting on the sun to set.
“I can’t just yet,” Carmello says, pulling back with a smirk.
“We should talk. You know, take our time. Be certain.” I call him a tease, and he shrugs.
“Olivia Jones, this is serious. You say I’m quick to try to fix things, but you didn’t even finish reading the pdf file to know the terms in which I’m giving you my shares before you got impatient. ”
“All right,” I say, “you might have a point that I’m impatient. But knowing that, if you can be so kind and explain the boring language to me so that I can stare at your beautiful face and hear your voice while I listen, that would be much appreciated.”
“You’re such a princess,” he says with a laugh that makes my stomach somersault.
“Fine, but you should sit down with my lawyer later to talk about anything you don’t agree with.
And we have to adjust some of it anyway, because in order for you to be an equal partner with me, I need to give you 50 percent of my shares, instead of 25 percent, since my mom stole hers back from you.
” My pulse quickens. Carmello really wants me to be an equal partner.
I open my mouth to speak on it, but he gives me a stern look.
“No, Olivia. You’re going to sit here and listen to me now. ”
“Sheesh,” I say. “Did I sound this sexy being strict earlier?”
He attempts to raise a brow at me, and it’s cute, even though he’s bad at it.
“Anyway, as of right now, I had my lawyer include terms that say you don’t have to officially live in Rhode Island.
You can travel as a private chef if you want to.
But I’ll need you to contribute, which I stipulate needs to include that friendly attitude of yours and your big brain.
You can work on the accounts if you’re not here, make sure our event nights are running smoothly when you’re in town.
Come up with new ideas too. Celia’s Place wouldn’t be what it is right now without your input.
And you’re currently looking like you want to jump out of your skin, but if you’re worried that my contribution to the workload will weigh more than yours, don’t.
I want to spend more time with Teddy and other people that I love without feeling so stressed about it, so I think we should figure out the funds to hire a couple station chefs.
I’m certain the date-night event will help with that. ”
His eyes start to flick away like he just said a little too much, but I tug his shirtsleeve.
“Tell me more,” I say. “Please. Your story is getting to the good parts.”
He smiles. “I want you to make the decisions that feel best for your nervous system,” he says, and those words alone do the work, but he keeps them coming.
“I promise you, O, I am not trying to keep you in Rhode Island against your will, and I promise it’s not because I don’t trust that you’re happy here when you tell me that you are, I just want us to be fair to each other.
And being fair means we should consider all parts of you, including the ones that itch to get up and go search for new adventures.
All you’re required to do is communicate with me.
If something changes with your availability or anything else, I need you to slow down a little and explain it to me, give me the time to process.
And I promise to be better at communicating what the restaurant needs too. What I need from you.”
“I have a feeling this offer of freedom is for more than just us as business partners,” I say.
“First,” he says, “do you know that you belong to Celia’s Place and it belongs to you?”
Damn. He’s good at this. “I’m grinning like I know, aren’t I?” I say. “Now tell me about the second thing. The us stuff. I’m getting rather impatient again.”