Chapter Seventeen
The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas break in the school system was shockingly short. Normally, Marcee would love the time off. However, since she was involved in a relationship in its “hot and heavy” stage, as Alex so aptly named it, she wasn’t as eager to leave.
Still, Marcee hadn’t seen her parents in months and the thought of breathing in the semi-rank, cold air of New York City was exciting.
Remy was flying back to London to spend the holiday with his folks, so being the cute couple they were, they shared a ride to the airport.
It only occurred to her as she was driving that it would be the first time he’d be back home since his boss insisted he leave.
Aside from the paparazzi that followed him to the States, he hadn’t been in touch with anyone from his old life other than family—that she knew of.
What if he contacted his coach or a teammate? Even worse, what if he ran into Lola? Suddenly, doubt weaseled its way into her mind, slipping through cracks of insecurity she didn’t even realize were there. She thought they’d have until the end of the school year.
What if he doesn’t come back?
Marcee tried desperately not to let it show how worried she was once they arrived at the airport, attaching herself to him like plankton on a ship.
“Okay,” Remy breathed, pulling away from where their faces had been connected for an inappropriately long time. “If you don’t go now, I’ll be forced to stuff you in my bag and take you to London. You’ll hate it. Hours of no air holes and no food or water. It would be inhumane.”
“But oh, so worth it,” she murmured, pulling his face back down and sliding her tongue into his mouth. It was so good it should be criminal. Mounting him in the middle of the airport certainly would be. There was no way he could consider staying in the UK. They were too good together.
He pulled back with a groan. “Marcee, you’re killing me.”
“Ugh, fine.” She took two dramatic steps back, hands held up in surrender. “Better?”
“Yes. And no.”
“You’re a conundrum, Remington Lockley.”
“Then maybe you won’t get bored with me,” he replied.
“I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve,” she called out, walking backward through the first part of the security line. Her eyes and nose tingled as separation anxiety settled into her tear ducts.
She would not cry. She would not make a spectacle of herself.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” he yelled back.
Remy’s flight wasn’t due for hours, so when she looked back one last time, he stood in the same place, hands shoved in his jean pockets and a wistful smile on his face.
Marcee almost wanted to go back and convince him to come with her instead.
Almost, because that was crazy, right? You don’t bring a man home to meet your parents so soon, especially hers. They weren’t a cookie-cutter suburban family.
She had a connecting flight in Charlotte, so there wasn’t much time to nap on the plane, and with a fifteen-minute weather delay before they landed, she moved in a full sprint to get to the gate on time.
Once buckled in, sweaty, irritable, and clutching her messenger bag, she had a moment to reflect it was probably for the best Remy didn’t come.
Her parents were a subject she hadn’t tackled yet.
She wanted her and Remy to live in ignorant bliss as a couple for as long as possible.
Which is probably why she hadn’t pressed him to tell her more about the fake injury, Lola, and why he really left London.
The book she picked up in the airport gift shop was, sadly, not the one that turned her into a reader as she’d hoped. No matter what she read, or tried to, she couldn’t get into it. Instead, she munched on some peach rings and listened to music until they landed at JFK.
Marcee strolled through the airport, bumping shoulders with impatient world wanderers and disguised movie stars, and counted her lucky stars that she always had the city as a home to come back to, despite having run hard and fast away from it the moment she got her high school diploma.
Even though it’d been months since she’d been home, she fell back into the well-worn skin of a native New Yorker, boarding the train and subway like a seasoned pro.
The thrill of the bodies pressed against one another, rushing to and from their destinations, was like catnip.
There was no truly accurate way to describe the energy in the city and there was nowhere else like it in the world.
Sometimes she wondered why she left, but then she’d come across a corner store where she’d been kicked out because she didn’t have enough money for lunch, or a deli where Eli had gotten them subs after a run. Ghosts, lots of ghosts.
A little over an hour later, she skipped up the steps of Marcy Avenue station, gulping in the biting air of Williamsburg.
Her parents had been residents of the neighborhood for years, or as they put it, “Long before it became a hipster refuge.” It was where she grew up and cut her teeth on specialty coffee and the best pizza in the world.
Her parents rented an apartment about four blocks from the station, so she buttoned up her coat, pulled down her hat, and started walking. The route was as familiar to her as Belle Cliff as she hustled home, her heart light.
Of course, it didn’t last.
She got a text from her mom before turning a corner, asking her to pick up a pizza. They forgot to place an order.
“Forgot, my ass,” Marcee grumbled, turning around and dreading the extra three blocks back and forth she’d have to walk in the cold. They didn’t have the money, of course, which didn’t bode well for the rest of this trip.
As soon as she walked into Tony’s, she regretted coming home. Worn-out booths covered in ripped checkered leather and the air heavy with garlic and pepperoni made it seem like she’d stepped back in time—six years ago, to be precise. Indecision and guilt twisted at her insides.
“What’ll you have?”
She didn’t recognize the girl behind the counter, thank God. She wanted to get a pie and get out.
“Large cheese, please.”
“Coming right up.”
“Marcee? That you?”
She recognized that voice, though.
Slowly, Marcee turned, plastering a smile on her face.
“It is you! Where have you been, darlin’?
You’ve gone and grown up on me.” Tony rushed from behind the counter, the gap in his front teeth flashing as he grinned and pulled her into a hug.
Flour puffed into the air off his apron, settling into his thick dark curls.
They never could convince him to wear a hair net.
“Hi, Tony,” she mumbled into his chest, which had gotten bonier with age.
Don’t cry, Marcee. Do. Not. Cry. Just because this man was more of a father to you than your own doesn’t mean you can cry all over him.
He pulled away, scanning her from head to toe. “You look so wonderful, sweetie. I can’t believe it’s been, what—six years? Why haven’t you come to see me, huh?”
Marcee reached forward on instinct and slid his glasses up his nose, and her heart lurched at the familiarity of it.
“Well, I don’t visit home that much…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes locked onto the picture hanging on the wall behind the counter.
Her, Tony, and Eli crowded into a booth, smiling as if they were the only people in the world.
It was taken a few months before Eli’s accident, when she was feverishly working and trying to save some cash before going to college.
“It’s okay,” Tony said, reaching out to squeeze her arm. “This place has a lot of memories for you.”
“Yeah,” she answered, voice cracking. She cleared it a few times before adding, “I’m sure you’ve seen my parents plenty, though.”
“No, darlin’, I haven’t.” He gave her an embarrassed smile. “About a year after you went to college, I told ’em I couldn’t keep giving them freebies since you weren’t working here no more.” His hand shook a little as he ran it through his hair. “They didn’t take it so well. Haven’t seen ’em since.”
Oh, dear God. Marcee ducked her head, heat covering her cheeks. She had no clue they were hitting up Tony for free food.
“Hey, hey.” He ruffled her hair, forcing her to look up. “It’s okay. Not your fault, so don’t put that on yourself.” He seemed to notice her bag for the first time. “Did you just get in town?”
“Yup, fresh off the plane.”
“Good. You’ll come see me again before you leave, right?” Over his shoulder, he called out, “Add a large order of wings to her pizza order, Cat.”
“Tony, you don’t have—”
“Yes, I do,” he interrupted. “I always take care of my kids. Even if they’ve moved on to bigger things.”
She blinked back tears, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around his waist and let it all out. But she wasn’t seventeen any more, and this wasn’t her home away from home.
“You’re the best, Tony.”
He stalked behind the counter, waving her off. “Yeah, yeah. Come back, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir!” When Cat brought out the food, she gave her an understanding smile, seeing the new girl like maybe Tony saw her all those years ago—just another teenager starting to make her way in the world and figure out who she is. It was a comforting thought.
Marcee cast a last lingering look at their picture before leaving. She didn’t know how she managed to smile so brightly with everything going on in her life back then. Probably something to do with the two people in the picture.
She’d come a long way.